‘Yes, I did, Mr Jones. By the way, what’s your real name?’
‘Aw, ma’am, I’m not gonna tell you that. I could get in a lot of trouble. But somebody’s coming to help you, OK? You hang in there.’
He’d heard Mr Green throw the deadbolt on the door at the head of the stairs, so he knew there would be no way to get out, and even so, they were probably in the kitchen and if they caught him they would more than likely kill him. And he was afraid it wouldn’t be fast. He was afraid he’d give out Alicia’s name, and start the whole nightmare all over again for her and her family.
But over in the corner, opposite the door to the laundry room, was a window. Big enough, he hoped, to get his shoulders through. Exit Mr Jones, he thought. Ernie Stanton was heading home.
FOURTEEN
SUNDAY
My phone rang again while we were still discussing what to do about what. It was Alicia. I said, ‘Hey,’ and she said, ‘Mom, you still with all the cops?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Then put me on speaker.’
I did and told her she had the room. ‘OK. Listen, y’all. I just talked to Mr Jones again. Mr Big’s name is Vladimir Andronikov and he lives at 410 Dalton Street in River Oaks—’
‘I know him!’ Lt Nixon said. ‘Really bad guy.’
‘Mrs Unger is in the basement in a locked room. There are three men upstairs: Mr Big, his henchman Misha, aka Mr Green, and Mr Brown. We don’t know Mr Brown’s real name.’
‘Nobody else?’ Lt Nixon asked.
‘No,’ my daughter said.
‘What about Mr Jones?’
‘I think you’ll find only three men on the premises,’ she said.
‘So your Mr Jones is on the lamb, huh?’ Lt Nixon asked.
‘I’m sorry, I really wouldn’t know anything about that. Mom, take me off speaker, please.’
I did and she said, ‘Wow, is that guy rude or what?’
‘Y’all lock all the doors and windows—’
‘We’re not at home, Mom. We’re playing miniature golf.’
All I could do was shake my head. ‘Just be careful, OK?’ I said and hung up.
Lt Nixon was talking. ‘Luna and me will work on the D.C. problem. Meanwhile, Marshallman, y’all take DeWitt and Mayfair with you to the River Oaks address. You might want to have SWAT back-up. This Andronikov is a seriously deranged sociopath. Now go.’
The four departed quickly, and I turned to my husband and whispered, ‘What do we do?’
‘Weren’t you listening?’ he scolded.
I don’t like to be scolded. I didn’t like it when I was three, and I certainly don’t like it now. But his mother was possibly in the clutches of another dangerous sociopath, so I’d let it go for now. ‘I was still on the phone with Alicia,’ I said.
‘Oh, right. Sorry. We’re with the lieutenant and Luna. Working on the D.C. problem, i.e., my mother.’
‘Who did you talk to in D.C.?’ Lt Nixon asked Luna.
‘I have a friend in the FBI. Agent Lorraine Jones. I figured this would be FBI jurisdiction.’
‘Yeah, ATF agent dead, federal court guards dead. Pretty much FBI worthy. What did she say?’
‘She’s gonna call me back.’
‘Give me her fuckin’ number,’ the lieutenant said.
While he called Special Agent Jones, I dialed Vera’s number again. It went to voicemail.
SUNDAY
VERA’S STORY
‘Let go of me!’ I screamed. Unfortunately there were so many people in the lobby, all checking out, and making so much noise, that my words got lost in the mayhem.
Gerald didn’t let go, but dragged me toward the front doors of the hotel. I tried stomping on his foot, but it didn’t slow him down. First time in forty years I’ve regretted giving up high heels.
We were on the street, and he was still dragging me and I was still screaming. Surely somebody would notice a little old lady being dragged off against her will! Surely?
We were half a block from the hotel when we heard sirens. Black SUVs stormed the hotel. I waved my free arm at the people exiting the vehicles, but nobody seemed to notice.
‘Hey!’ someone said.
Gerald had stopped, but hadn’t let up his hold on me. ‘Get out of the way!’ Gerald shouted.
I turned away from the black SUVs to see a black kid, a teenager, in baggy pants and a baggy sleeveless shirt, underwear showing, a hat pulled sideways on his head, and neon-yellow running shoes, standing in Gerald’s way.
‘He’s a killer!’ I yelled at the kid.
‘Oh, yeah?’ The kid said. ‘Me too.’ He pulled a very large gun from behind his back. I think it was a Glock. ‘Let go of the old lady and give me your wallet,’ the kid said.
Gerald didn’t just let go of me, he shoved me away. I can only assume from what happened next that he had a gun hidden on him somewhere. He shot the kid, who shot at him, but somehow the kid missed and got me instead.
Mayfair and DeWitt were in the backseat of Marshallman’s car. The two HPD detectives had to open the back doors for the two APD detectives. They’d come at the mansion from the back, no sirens, parked on a side street, and went to the house on foot. A SWAT team was on the perimeter, locked and loaded. Mann, the older detective, held the warrant, hastily signed by a judge, in his left hand. He hit the doorbell with his right.
Inside they could hear the first several notes of ‘Lara’s Theme’ from Dr Zhivago. The door was opened by a large man, in his forties, possibly, with thick wavy brown hair, a face with overly large features, and hands the size of baseball gloves.
‘We have a warrant to search these premises,’ Larry Mann said.
The big guy slammed the door shut and Larry motioned for the SWAT team. They came up fast and used a ramrod to break the door in. Once the door was down, the big guy pointed a large Glock at them and began to shoot, so SWAT team members shot back. The big guy, who Mayfair decided had to be Misha, aka Mr Green, lay dead on the floor. Behind him stood a short, well-built man with his hands up.
‘Mr Brown, I presume?’ Detective Mann said.
‘Yes, sir. I’ll go quietly. Just get me out of this house. These people are crazy.’
‘Where’s Andronikov?’ Mann asked.
‘Who?’ Mr Brown said, his brow furrowed.
‘Mr Big,’ DeWitt supplied.
‘Oh. Downstairs. In the basement with Mrs Unger, I think.’
‘But you’re not sure?’ Mann clarified.
‘No, sir, I’m not positive, no.’
‘Where’s the door to the basement?’ Mayfair asked.
Mr Brown pointed toward the back of the house with his head, his arms still raised. ‘In the kitchen. That way.’
Mann nodded to two patrolmen they’d brought along. ‘Take him downtown,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ Mr Brown said as they cuffed him. ‘Thank you so much.’
Marshall and Mann sent two of the SWAT members to the kitchen in search of the door to the basement, two more upstairs, and the last two to check out the rest of the first floor.
‘Got it!’ one of the team members called from the back. All four detectives hurried toward the sound of her voice. She and her partner were both standing at the head of the basement steps, the door of which opened into a fabulous kitchen. Mayfair couldn’t help noticing that. She’d always wanted a kitchen like this.
Following the SWAT team members down the stairs into the basement, they saw the door Alicia had described with the hasp and lock, only the lock was missing and the hasp was open. Mayfair nodded at the team member who’d called to them, who turned the handle and opened the door.
Everyone had their guns out and pointing inside the room, where Vladimir Andronikov stood behind Elizabeth Unger, a knife at her throat and a gun in his hand, pointed toward them.
‘Drop it, Vlad,’ Mann said. ‘You know you’re not getting out of this. We have you on so much shit you won’t be seeing daylight in your lifetime.’
&
nbsp; ‘Then maybe I commit what they call suicide by cop, yes?’ Mr Big said. ‘I slit her throat and then you kill me, yes? Sounds good to me.’
Although Mr Big was shorter than Mrs Unger and his head and body were hidden from view, one of his legs was exposed.
‘Or we could do this,’ Larry Mann said and shot Mr Big in the knee. Mr Big fell back, but the knife had been close enough to Mrs Unger’s skin that it nicked her going down. Mr Big was screaming and the SWAT team members were on him, relieving him of his weapons.
Mayfair ran to Mrs Unger, who’d fallen back against a table and was holding her neck. Blood was seeping through her fingers.
Mayfair grabbed a box of Kleenex off another table, balled a bunch up in her fist, removed Mrs Unger’s hand and placed the wad of tissue against her neck.
‘It’s not serious,’ Mrs Unger said. ‘I don’t think it’s much more than a scratch.’
In a relaxed manner, Larry Mann turned to the others, SWAT members included, and said, ‘You saw him start to shoot me, right?’
Everyone nodded. Including Mrs Unger, who said, ‘You can finish the job now, if you like. I won’t breathe a word of it.’ Then she passed out.
SUNDAY
VERA’S STORY
Well, I guess all that shooting finally got the attention of those people in the black SUVs with the sirens. Somebody tackled Gerald, or Uncle Tom, or whoever the hell he was. He fell hard on the sidewalk and, God forgive me, I kinda hoped he broke a hip. Somebody else was there taking care of the boy who saved me, and there was somebody hovering over me too, only none of these people were medics.
‘Has anyone called for an ambulance?’ I asked the person hovering over me, who was a pretty young woman with very short hair – which I feel most policewomen should have. I mean, all these young women on TV who are FBI or sheriff’s deputies or police or whatever, with their long hair. How easy would that be for a perp (they call the bad guys ‘perps,’ you know) to grab that long hair and choke her to death, or at least get hold of her. That’s all I’m saying.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ my pretty young woman with the very short hair said. ‘They’re on their way.’
‘How’s the boy? He saved me, you know,’ I told her. My arm was beginning to throb, and I took my hand away to look at it. It appeared a large chunk of my arm was missing. Good thing I grew up on a farm or I woulda been puking on the streets of the nation’s capital.
‘He’s OK,’ she said. ‘It was a through-and-through, almost identical to yours.’
‘They were standing right in front of each other!’ I said in disgust. ‘Both of ’em piss poor shots, I reckon.’
‘And thank God for that,’ she said with a smile. ‘By the way,’ she stuck out her hand, ‘I’m Special Agent Sanchez, FBI.’
‘Sanchez – you Mexican?’ I asked.
‘Yes, ma’am. From Corpus Christi, Texas,’ she said.
I shook her hand and grinned at her through my pain. ‘A fellow Texan. Hallelujah!’
She grinned back. ‘Sometimes I feel the same way, living here. Ma’am, I need to get your name, and where you’re from in Texas, if you don’t mind.’
‘Vera Pugh, Codderville, Texas. That’s halfway between Brenham and La Grange.’
Then they heard more sirens, as two ambulances came to stop near them.
‘Two?’ Vera asked.
‘One for you and your hero, young Tyrone, there, and the other for our prisoner.’
‘Where’s my roommate? Did he kill her? Maybe he’s got her hidden somewhere and she’ll die if we don’t find her quick.’
‘We’re still investigating, ma’am,’ Special Agent Sanchez said.
One of the EMTs got me on a gurney but I still had a few thousand questions for my special agent. ‘Who called y’all? How’d you get here so fast? Find my roommate: Rachael Gregory Donley—’ I was trying to get all this out in a hurry, but I was shoved into the back of the ambulance, with Tyrone beside me and no special agent in sight.
‘I hear your name’s Tyrone,’ I said.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said.
‘Well, I’m Vera Pugh. I wanna thank you, Tyrone, for saving my life.’
‘Ma’am, I seen you there with that old man messin’ with you and I said to myself, “Tyrone, what if that was your grams? What would you want someone to do?” So I did it.’
‘That’s all well and good, Tyrone,’ I said, ‘but you know you shouldn’t steal. And I think you’d look a lot better if you bought clothes that fit.’
FIFTEEN
SUNDAY
While Willis called the girls to tell them about Vera, I called my new friend Lacy Kent, told her what happened, and asked if she’d keep an eye on the girls. ‘They’re all sixteen, and I trust them to not sneak guys over or anything, but I’d just feel better if there was someone there for back-up.’
‘No problem,’ Lacy said.
‘My mother-in-law is usually our back-up – stays in the house and drives the kids crazy. Or my next-door neighbor, Elena Luna, but she’s out of town too—’
‘E.J., it’s OK!’ Lacy assured me. ‘I promise I won’t take my son with me when I go check on them, either.’
‘Oh?’
‘He’s got a mad crush on Megan. Not that he thinks I know this or anything!’
I laughed with her and said, ‘Well, if you did know, you could warn him, but that’s what he gets for not telling you.’
‘Warn him?’
‘Megan’s as sweet as they come, but … let’s just say she’s a handful.’
‘Aren’t we all?’
‘I know I try,’ I said and we hung up. I took Willis’s phone from him. ‘Who am I talking to?’ I asked.
‘All of us,’ Bess said. ‘We’re on speaker.’
‘Hi, Mom!’ Megan.
‘Hi, Mom!’ Alicia.
‘OK, I just talked to Mrs Kent—’
‘Dex’s mother?’ Megan interrupted. ‘He’s really cute!’
‘And she’s going to come by occasionally and check on y’all, make sure everything is OK, so try not to trash the house, all right?’ I said, ignoring Megan’s need for a romantic entanglement.
‘Is she going to bring Dex with her?’ Megan asked.
‘There should be plenty of food in the refrigerator and freezer. I’m not sure how long we’re going to be gone—’
‘It’s OK, Mom,’ Bess said. ‘We can take care of ourselves.’
‘Bess, you know where the emergency Visa card is, right?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, ma’am—’
‘What emergency Visa card?’ Megan demanded. ‘We’ve had a Visa card hidden around here that I didn’t know about? Jeez, Bess, thanks for sharing—’
‘It has a low balance. I’m not saying how low, and Bess doesn’t know. And an emergency only includes two pizza deliveries of a reasonable amount of pizza. No parties!’
‘Damn,’ I heard Megan say in the background.
‘Don’t worry, Mom,’ Alicia said. ‘Bess and I will keep Megs in line.’
‘Yeah, y’all and what army?’ Megan shot back.
‘Stop!’ I said. ‘Don’t bother Mrs Luna if she gets home before we do—’
‘We know what she’ll be doing!’ Megan said and giggled, the other girls followed suit.
‘Maybe you’re not old enough to stay on your own—’
‘Mom!’ Three loud voices as one.
‘Just be good,’ I said and we said our goodbyes.
I turned to my husband. ‘When does the plane leave?’
‘We’ve got three hours before we need to be at the airport. Luna’s going to take us to the mall to buy what we’ll need in D.C. If we’re there for longer than two days, we’ll buy more,’ he said.
I looked at my husband and could tell he was freaking out. ‘Honey, you want to stay here and I’ll get you some things? You could make me a list—’
He shook his head. ‘No. There’s nothing I could do here. I’d just be in the way and do nothing bu
t worry. At least at the mall I’ll have something to take my mind off this.’
‘The special agent who called said it was a through-and-through, doesn’t looked like much damage—’
‘Jesus, E.J.!’ he said, gritting his teeth and hissing at me. ‘She’s nearly eighty years old! God only knows what this will do to her! She could have a stroke, or go into a depression, become suicidal—’
‘Willis, stop,’ I said, putting my arms around him. ‘You’re going to drive yourself nuts. We can’t do anything until we get to D.C. So, come on, let’s go to the mall.’
He sighed and stood up. ‘Where’s Luna?’ he asked the world in general.
She appeared and we headed out of the main cop shop down to the mean streets of Houston, blood and fashion on our minds.
ALMOST ONE WEEK LATER
It was Saturday night and we were having a barbecue in honor of Eddie Luna. By the time we’d gotten home from Washington, D.C., Elena and Eddie were keeping house like an old married couple; although they’d been married for twenty-four years, only four of those had been together. I found it amazing that the two of them had kept the fire going all these years. I could only hope that Willis and I will have sustained such a bond over that great a time.
Elena and I had already made all the side dishes and the men, which is the way of suburbia, were dealing with the meat, tonight starring chicken and sausage. Elena and I sat on our deck, watching and giving an occasional opinion.
‘Have you heard anything about the Unger thing?’ I asked her.
She nodded. ‘Yeah. Mayfair called me, told me the whole story. Seems James and Elizabeth Unger, both with PhDs in biology, met when they both worked for a large pharmaceutical company. They got married and left the company to start their own. After three years they discovered what they thought was the cure to childhood leukemia, and they wanted desperately to market it, but they couldn’t go the conventional route because they’d already had a bankruptcy and their credit was in the toilet. Somebody told them about Andronikov, who had money to invest. He was more than a little interested, so he backed them. Over a million dollars’ worth.’
Gone in a Flash Page 23
