Total Immunity

by Robert Ward

  As his eyes grew accustomed to the low light, he looked over at the cages just behind Andreen.

  There was Winkie, leaning on one of them and smiling at him in an ugly way.

  A tangle of snakes crawled up and down a piece of carved driftwood which sat in the middle of the cage.

  There were pipes assembled from the cage walls, and a red- and-yellow snake crawled there and made a hissing noise which curdled Jack’s soul. Jack recognized it at once. A coral snake, the most deadly in the United States.

  How many snakes were in there?

  It was hard to say. Ten. No, more. Fifteen, at least. More like twenty.

  Jack looked up at Andreen, who had a wooden box in his own hands now.

  “So, Bobby Hopps, it has come to this.” Timmy smiled and showed a little gum.

  “I liked you, too. That’s the pisser. I guess I really have to mend my ways. I have always gone by gut instinct. Felt I could tell what was essential to know about a man on the first meeting. And, of course, your introduction to me was so spectacular. I guess I just fell in love with you a little. I don’t mean in any fag way, but you know, man to man. You are a charismatic type, Hopps, if indeed that is your name at all. You have the silent- but-deadly act down cold. But unfortunately for you, from now on it’s not going to be deadly, but dead. But I can make your death tolerable — even, I might add, pleasant. Through the marvelous world of chemicals, I can send you on to the next, and we all hope, happier world, in a state of advanced ecstasy. Or we can make it more like Hellsville. Now, you may ask by what manner can you make it terrifying? Fire, lead, edged steel? But sir, I must say no to all of those. What I have in mind is much, much worse. Death by Ronnie and Jerry.”

  He smiled and slid open the top of the wooden box.

  Then he reached in and pulled out a reptile that for a second Jack couldn’t name.

  “This is Ronnie, a full-grown and very bad-tempered gila monster. Picked up off the Sonoran Desert sands. Ronnie is a fierce little biter, wouldn’t you say so, Wink?”

  Wink had stepped up and joined his boss now. A diamondback rattlesnake slithered over his forearm and wrapped its head around Winkie’s massive bicep.

  “That gila can tear through sheet metal, so think what it’s going to do to you, Junior. Now, he’s not very poisonous, as you may already know. But his bite is excruciating. And what we like to do is mix it up a little. We start you off with a little gila juice, and then we add this guy, Jerry-boy, the old diamondback rattler. Trust me, when them two poisons team up, things get pretty interesting, Junior!”

  Tim waved the gila around slowly in front of Jack’s face. It had two big walleyes and a forked, flickering tongue.

  “Now maybe you want to tell me just what you were hunting for in my computer?”

  “Playing video games,” Jack said. “I come from an impoverished family that only has television.”

  “That’s funny,” Tim said. “Listen, my friend. We have a piece of paper, which you printed out. Why you would want to see my payment to my Porsche dealer is beyond me. The man was getting me a sweet deal on a Carrera. Admittedly stolen, but I doubt you’d go to all this trouble to find a stolen car. So there must be something else. Of course we could findit if I called in the tech boys, but that might get a bit messy, because once they found it, they’d know, too, and I’d have to off them . . . so suppose you save me all that trouble and tell me what it is.”

  He flicked his forefinger on the back of the gila’s head, setting the animal into a mad hissing fit.

  Then he set it down on Jack’s right arm.

  Ronnie opened his hideous jaws and slowly clamped them down on Jack’s forearm. Jack felt his dry lizard tongue flicking over the skin and then a pain that was beyond endurance. He opened his mouth wide as the gates of hell and screamed.

  “Ooooh, that must sting a little,” Andreen said. “Would you call it slashing pain or a deep solid one? I’m guessing slash.”

  “Fuck you!” Jack said, gasping for breath.

  “Tough nut, hey, Winkster?”

  “We’ll see just how tough Junior is,” Winky said.

  The monster dug deeper into Jack’s forearm, eating his way through Jack’s skin. The sensation of being eaten alive was unpleasant in the extreme.

  “Now maybe you want to tell me, and I can give you the proverbial hot shot. A nice mixture of heroin and cocaine, and I send you out with a Fourth of July rocket blast. This way you get all chawed up, and when they find you, your corpse will be embarrassed.”

  “Fuck you, Timmy-boy,” Jack said.

  “Okay, tough guy. Then it’s time for Snakey.”

  Without another word, Winkie applied the giant diamondback to Jack’s left arm. The snake sank in with two-inch fangs, and Jack screamed again.

  “Hey!” Tim smiled a little. “This could be one of those reality shows. A combination of a nature show with the greatest race. World’s Greatest Predators, Reptile Division. Which one of these deadly reptiles can kill the asshole the quickest? In the end we’d have a showdown and see which one could kill the other. Of course, that’s long after you’re dead. By the way, Hopps, I have some antivenom right here, if you want to tell me the truth.”

  Jack felt the venom shooting through his system, felt his stomach contracting violently, his head snapping back.

  Above him, Winkie smiled and wondered if there was a song in this deal.

  “Snakebit by Your Love. . . .”

  Jack screamed and his head lashed backward.

  “You sure are stubborn,” Tim said. “Maybe we’re going to have to go for the coup de grâce. That would be your coral snake. Man, once we put that one in there, there’s no antivenom in the world that’s going to be strong enough to bring you around. No, Mr. Bobby Hopps will have hopped his last, and since we’re going to bury you right out here in the godforsaken San Fernando Valley, none will ever know the pain you have suffered and died from. Now, that is sad . . .”

  Jack screamed louder. And spat venomous froth in Winkie’s face. Both men leaned back and Jack was able to rock the chair back a tad and violently thrust himself forward, knocking the rattler off at Mr. Tim’s feet.

  That made it Mr. Tim’s turn to scream and fall backward.

  He fell into Winkie, and both of them went tumbling down.

  As they rose, the snake bit Tim’s left thigh and he screamed and grabbed the writhing serpent, flinging it wildly toward Winkie, who fell against the cage, knocking open the half-latched door. As he fell, his head went into the cage and the dozens of snakes seemed to see this as their opportunity to stake their claim on their jailer. Three of them attacked his huge head as he screamed and flailed wildly.

  Jack felt the bonds grow looser on his right hand. And then he was free. He reached across and grabbed the gila, ripped it off his ravaged arm, then threw it into Andreen’s pale, terrified face. The monster clung to Andreen’s lower lip, hanging off his head like a reptile beard with feet.

  Andreen ripped it off his face and dropped it on the floor. Jack reached to stop him from pulling his gun, but Jack suddenly began to foam at the mouth and fell to the floor on his knees, snakes heading toward him. Jack looked up, and through a haze of poison saw Tim Andreen raise his pistol and put it to Jack’s head.

  Though his brain was a scramble, his body feeling as though his skin was suffocating, Jack knew for sure that the game was over. One more second and the bullet would split his brain and — given the agony he was in — it would be a relief.

  He heard the gun go off and waited for the split second later which would end his life.

  But there was a loud popping sound and the owner of the Valentine Club fell forward on him instead. With his last ounce of strength, Jack pushed him over onto his side.

  Tim landed on top of snake-laden Winkie, the two of them lying there amid a coil of vipers.

  “Jesus Christ, Jackie! Let’s get out of this freakin’ snake house!”

  Just before he fainted, Jack saw
Oscar reach his short, powerful arm down to gather him up. And just behind him, coming in the door, was Michelle Wu, with a very worried look on her beautiful face.

  32

  TWO HOURS LATER , Oscar and Michelle Wu stood above Jack who lay writhing in his bed in the ICU at Van Nuys Hospital.

  “Bad?” Oscar said.

  “Only when I breathe,” Jack said. “It’s like having a snake coiling ’round your lungs.”

  Michelle Wu smiled and took his hand.

  “That’s my Jackie. Always good for a laugh.”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “I’m a laugh riot. Ohhh, man . . . Trust me, having this shit in you ain’t funny.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Oscar said. “But the doc said we got you in here in time. Just takes a while for the antivenom to work. You know what the guy told me? They used to make it out of rattlesnake venom, but now they make the stuff out of hens’ eggs.”

  “Fascinating,” Michelle said. “You ought to go on freakin’ Jeopardy or something.”

  “Whatever,” Jack said, writhing in pain again as his stomach cramped. “I just hope the hens’ eggs do their thing soon, ’cause this is definitely not great.”

  Michelle held Jack’s hand tighter and he looked up at her with gratitude and a certain amount of surprise.

  “You saved my butt tonight,” he said. “I won’t forget it.”

  “Yeah,” Michelle said. “I surprise myself sometimes.”

  “I wasn’t going to bring that up,” Jack said. “But maybe you surprised me, too.”

  Michelle smiled and looked slightly befuddled.

  “Thing is, I blew a perfectly good gig saving you, Jackie. Now that Timmy’s dead, my singing gig at the Valentine Club will go down the tubes. I mean, what’s getting into me? I might be getting morals or something in my old age.”

  “I doubt that,” Jack said. “Anyway, I want you to know that I’m grateful.”

  Though another wave of nausea and cramps shot through his stomach, he managed a smile at her.

  She smiled back and then leaned over the bed and kissed Jack on the cheek.

  Just then a voice came from the back of the room.

  “Well, what do we have here, a party?”

  Jack looked over Michelle’s shoulder and saw Julie Wade standing in the doorway. She smiled at Oscar and glanced briefly but with maximum hostility at Michelle, then pushed past her to Jack’s bedside.

  “Oscar called me at home,” she said.

  She leaned over and gave him a kiss on his lips. Behind her, Michelle Wu suddenly seemed to find something very interesting to look at on the ceiling. In spite of their problems, Jack was overjoyed to see her. She looked stunning in a pink cashmere sweater and a short black skirt.

  “Hey, baby,” Jack said.

  “I was going to pick up Kevin,” Julie said. “But then I thought that I didn’t know what kind of shape you’d be in, so I left him at Charlie’s place. He’s sitting in the back room playing video games on Charlie’s computer.”

  Jack managed a smile. “That was smart, but I’m going to be okay. They tell me I need to spend the night — that’s all.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll take care of Kevin.”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “That’s fine.”

  She hugged Jack again, then stood up and looked at Oscar.

  “Do I have you to thank for saving Jack?”

  Oscar shrugged and pointed at Michelle Wu.

  “Not really. If Michelle hadn’t called me, things might have turned out a lot differently.”

  Julie turned to Michelle and did her best to look grateful.

  “Michelle Wu?” she asked.

  “Yes, and you must be the fabulous Julie Wade,” Michelle said. The contempt and jealousy in her voice were barely hidden.

  Lying there in bed, Jack suddenly felt an intense discomfort that had nothing to do with his snake and gila bites.

  “Jack tells me you’re an invaluable asset,” Julie said. “I want to thank you for saving his life.”

  “It was nothing,” Michelle said. “It was a slow Sunday night, and I didn’t have anything better to do.”

  Julie managed a small, dismissive laugh as Michelle reached down in front of her and caressed Jack’s cheek.

  “Oh, you’re hot,” she said. “Somebody better cool you down, baby.”

  She looked directly at Julie as she spoke, then turned and gave Oscar a kiss on the cheek.

  “Take care of him,” she said. “He’s my favorite Fed.”

  Then she turned and walked swiftly across the hospital room and out the door.

  Oscar laughed. “What a woman!” he said.

  He looked at Jack and Julie, who were now staring into one another’s eyes, as if they’d just met.

  “Okay,” Oscar said. “I think it’s time for me to head home to mi casa.”

  Jack smiled at him warmly. “Thanks, partner, I owe you. Tomorrow we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  Oscar smiled and squeezed Julie’s arm. Then he turned and walked out of the room.

  Julie sat down in the chair at Jack’s bedside.

  “Sorry I messed up, baby,” Jack said.

  Julie squeezed his arm. Touched his cheek.

  “I love you, kiddo,” Jack said.

  “Me, too,” Julie said.

  “I know I’ve been too much into my work,” Jack said. “But you’re going to be number-one part of the time. From now on. ’Cause I can’t afford to have you leave me, baby. No way.”

  He opened his arm and Julie hugged him tightly.

  But inside she was filled with doubt.

  33

  KYLE HAD LOST all track of time. All he knew was that he and Mike had almost gotten out of their bonds — twice — only to be slapped down by the bearded man, their lives threatened.

  Mike had been reduced to a ball of fear. He rolled over on his side, like he’d given up.

  But Kyle wanted out.

  He had been scraping his ropes against the old rusted pipes for hours. And worked his way through one of them. The problem was there were three more to go.

  Still, he had no choice.

  The guy had looked at them with such hatred the last time.

  And then smiled his pitiless smile, which said more than any words about what he was planning for them.

  They were going to be dead soon. He knew it.

  Both of them with their throats slit, or bullets in their brains.

  And they didn’t even know why.

  Who would have anything against them?

  Yeah, who?

  And not only that, whoever it was . . . who would have the nerve to do anything against his family?

  Who would have the balls?

  Not that it mattered now. He had to get out. Had to.

  Tears rolled down his face as he scraped the ropes harder and harder against the old rusted boiler pipes.

  The sons of bitches. They’d all pay. When they got out and told their dad, the assholes would wish they had never been born.

  34

  JACK STAYED IN THE hospital for two days, watching his swollen arm rise and fall as if someone had inflated it, then deflated it with an invisible bicycle pump. His stomach felt as though it had been put through a wringer, and he had dreams of snakes attacking his legs, sinking their fangs into his ankles.

  By the time he was released from the hospital, he felt a serious need to hit somebody.

  He had the information concerning what he thought was Blakely’s Mason Security account but when he investigated it, he found that it was a Cayman Islands account and that it was protected by laws which even the federal government couldn’t touch.

  As for Blakely’s wife, Val, she swore she knew nothing about it, and unfortunately Jack believed her. Zac had always been secretive . . . and Jack doubted that Zac would have let Val in on something that could potentially mean trouble for her.

  Hughes’s ex-wife, Leslie, knew nothing, either, and he had no children. Chanc
es were he was going to use the money for his retirement in either Mexico or Portugal. Jack found travel brochures for both places on his office computer.

  He remembered Forrester’s Little Cayman account, too. So there they were, three dirty cops, but he still had no ideas how all of that connected to Steinbach or Witness Protection.

  And he still couldn’t recall the old case — if it even existed — that seemed to haunt his dreams.

  It was maddening . . .

  The thought that one of them might actually get away with killing federal agents, that he might walk out of the whole thing . . . that he might even become a hero if he happened to tell Homeland Security something that led them to terrorists . . . well, that was too much. If that happened, Jack thought, there was no freaking justice left in the world.

  And for all his cynicism, Jack didn’t want to believe that. No matter how lousy he felt, with some of the poison still in him, he had to get back out there. Do the next step, which meant finding Jesse Lopez.

  So, two days after he was taken home, Jack was back at work. And ready to visit the car designer who had just gotten back from a weeklong trip to T. J.

  Lopez lived out in the desert, near Borrego Springs. The place where the wildflowers bloomed.

  Jack and Oscar drove there on a bright, sunny day, down Route 15 through Orange County. Jack was still in pain and half out of it on Vicodin. As they drove into the desert, Jack found himself obsessed with finding Jesse Lopez, considered maybe breaking his arm if he didn’t talk.

  Oscar, on the other hand, seemed to be taking the drive like a car trip, a mini-vacation.

  “You been down here before, Jackie?” he said as he drove.

  “No . . . to San Diego, yeah. But never Borrego Springs.”

  “Ahh, you gonna love it, man,” Oscar said. “They got bighorn sheep down here with antlers like you wouldn’t believe. And they got mule deer, and kit foxes . . . and the sunsets are amazing. Makes you feel alive, Jack.”

  Suddenly Jack was annoyed by Oscar.

  “You know,” he said. “We’re going down there to get this fucking skell Lopez, a guy who is involved in killing federal agents, Osc. It ain’t like we’re having a freaking holiday.”