by Tony Bulmer
Diego, buckling up his trousers now, regarded Dakota with a look of hatred. What you waiting for Martino? Pop the Goth bitch now, show Costello we mean business, then we can slam the princess here in the trunk and enjoy her at our leisure, until her Pops tells us where the merchandise is at.’
‘Merchandise? What are you two clowns, gangsters or something?’ sneered Dakota.
‘You hear that Martino? The kid is funning us, You going to let her talk to us like that? I say we pop her now.’
Martino felt the pressure building. His fingers tightened on the gun, dark temptation and the desire to be free of this mess that his life had become burned within him. The gun pulsed in his hand, power burning through him. He prayed to god that the feelings would stop. The pain and anguish were unbearable.
The sound of the front door opening.
The sound of voices in the hallway.
Martino spun around, his gaze shifting to the sound of danger. No sooner had he shifted his gaze, then the girl with the black hair was upon him, a furious ball of vengeance, leaping onto his gun arm, sinking her nails and teeth into his exposed flesh and biting down hard. He tried in vain to control the trajectory of the gun, but the girl was hellcat, and crazy strong. The other kid, moving towards him now, the two of them together, making a play for their freedom. He called out to Diego, but Diego was too slow. Caught off balance, Martino stared with slow motion horror, watching as the blonde girl reached for the gun on the table.
THE SEX NET 33
If there is one thing I hate more than a loud mouth bully, it is a loudmouth bully who picks on women. I told Rothstein outright, and he didn’t like it, not one bit.
Louanne said, ‘I owe him money Mr. Costello; I didn’t mean to steal it. I just borrowed it, I swear.’
‘You hear that Costello, she just borrowed it. Can you believe the nerve of this young woman? I mean really, no wonder the country is going down the flusher.’
‘The credit card was in Mimi’s name,’ said Louanne miserably.
‘Credit card?’
‘My sister left the card over at my place before she went to work. I needed some things for my trip, like we talked about, Mr. Costello. I bought them on the credit card…I didn’t think it would matter.’
‘You hear that Costello, she didn’t think it would matter. Stealing a credit card, without the users permission and running up debts, Ms. Varga should be ashamed of her self.
I closed my eyes. I could see now what had happened. Rothstein had given the girls corporate credit cards, so he could avoid cash money expenses. He had obviously been tracking purchases on the cards in the hope they would throw up leads, as to the whereabouts of Corin Cabrillo and the diamonds. As soon as Louanne had used the card, she had been snared by her own stupidity.
‘I am sorry Mr. Costello,’ choked Louanne miserably. ‘He says I owe him fifty-thousand dollars.’
‘Fifty-grand? What the hell did you buy?’
‘What didn’t she buy?’ asked Rothstein nastily. ‘Ms Varga went on a spending spree on Rodeo Drive, which is incidentally where my associates found her, up to her pretty little armpits in designer jewelry. She must have thought she was some kind of genius, using my money to skip town. But she got greedy, and now she is going to have to pay the consequences.’
‘Under the circumstances, I am sure a man of your means can allow this one to ride, Rothstein. I am assuming you recovered the items Louanne bought when you tracked her down?’
‘Who do you think you are talking to Costello? I got a reputation to consider here. I let a little hustler like Ms Varga take me for a couple of grand, then pretty soon, every low-rent putz in town will think I am a walking fucking charity, you get what I am saying?’
‘Sure, and that is why I am prepared to compensate you Rothstein.’
Rothstein put down his knife and fork and pushed his plate away, his food unfinished. He untucked his linen napkin from his collar and gave me a hard look, ‘You are going to compensate me?’
‘Sure,’ I said, and I reached inside my pants. I pulled out my bill roll counted off how much was there, replaced it, then dipped further amongst the pocket fluff, finally locating what I was looking for. Every pair of eyes in the room, were upon me. I reached out a dime and tossed it onto Rothstein’s dining table. It bounced once, landed on his dinner plate and rolled to a clattering halt.
Rothstein took a moment to look at it.
‘What the fuck is this?’ he asked.
‘That’s a dime for the phone call Louanne made to invite me here.’
‘You got a fucking nerve Costello, unfortunately nerve ain’t going to be enough for you this time, tough guy.’
Rothstein’s special-forces goons seemed to take this as a cue, rearing up from their positions around the room and closing in. Pugnose was the first to attack, a doltish grin spread wide across his ugly wrestler face. The slow motion charge was simple-minded and predictable. I sidestepped the impact, at the last possible moment and Pugnose, carried forward by his lumbering momentum, over shot his target, by a considerable margin. As he passed, I helped him on his way, with a well-aimed kick in the pants. He flew past, doomed to the kind of sprawling and impactful fate, which I had assigned him earlier.
Next up, a multi-directional double header, coming in from both sides at once. I stepped back pivoting my arms up and out from my elbows in a move I call the thumb fountain, an aptly named gambit, first formulated by Shaolin monks in South China, during the Tang dynasty. The thumb fountain utilizes the force of the assailants and multiplies it, with the power of the dynamic upward and outward force of the arms, culminating in the thumbs of the defender embedding themselves in the eye sockets, of his assailants. I snapped this move so fast, that Rothstein’s goons quite literally never saw it coming. I could have made the damage permanent, but I held back, allowing them to KO themselves, as they bashed heads.
I took a stance in the middle of the room, the odds now three against one—four if you counted Rothstein, but I doubted he would want to tangle.
The next guy up had some moves of his own; he ambled forwards using a slow footed style that I recognized immediately. The approach clued me in, to the direction of the first blows. I viewed the assault as an entity. I stood alert and ready to every possibility. When the blows came, they came explosively fast: five-six-seven, all in the space of a fraction of a second. I used blocking moves and a fast counter. I moved low, leaving my assailant standing high. I swept his feet out from under him and caught him hard, under the chin with my elbow as he came down. He made a horrible rasping groan as the air was knocked out of him. He hit the floor hard, and stayed there.
The sound of a telephone ringing—a pause. I peripheralized the remaining thugs; they exchanged nervous glances, but came at me anyway. I was thinking three steps ahead, thinking exit strategy with girl.
The phone still ringing.
‘Probably the front desk complaining about the noise,’ I said, as I readied myself for the final assault.
Rothstein picked up the phone. Nodded, Spoke quiet words, then hung up. ‘It would appear that your delightful children are being held hostage Mr. Costello. Perhaps you will desist in your assault on my associates?’
The first guy rushed me. I caught him in the centre of the nose with an open handed strike, then followed it up with a 360 degree twirling hammer fist, catching him a repeat blow in the exact same spot, with the heel of my hand. He sank to his knees holding his bloodied face in his hands, as though it were about to fall off the front of his head. The final thug drew back keeping a wary distance. Rothstein was on his feet now, standing behind Louanne Varga one hand caressing her hair, the other holding a silver steak knife to her jugular. ‘Careful Costello, don’t get any closer, the girl might get hurt if you try any more of your fancy moves.
‘You are a real piece of work Rothstein, and ugly with it.’
‘Unfortunately for you Costello your prowess in the martial arts will get you nowhere. Becaus
e my associates are certain to hurt your family should you fail to co-operate. Such a shame you had to move out of that lovely home in Brentwood isn’t it, leaving those young girls of yours so unprotected.’
‘You mess with my family Rothstein you are going to going to discover a side to me that you really won’t like.’
Rothstein grasped Louanne Varga by her auburn curls, pulling her head backwards, exposing her neck to the sharpened point of the knife, ‘I think I already discovered that side of you Costello, now get the fuck out of here and find my diamonds, or Miss Varga’s bitch sister won’t be the last corpse you will find this week.’
I took two rapid steps forward, then noticed that the final thug was holding a silenced automatic on me. I judged the distances, I could maybe reach him, given the chance, but he looked snappy and alert, he would get off two shots, maybe three and if he was as professional as he looked, that would be enough. I considered the options, figuring it would be a long shot-miracle, if I could take him and Rothstein too.
I bided my time. Pulled my phone. The gun toting goon raised his pistol higher by way of objection, but Rothstein waved him down. I dialed the kids—no answer.
I dialed the house, no answer.
I dialed again; a gruff voice came on the line.
‘Let me speak to my kids.’
‘That you Costello?’
‘Damn right, and who are you?’ I flipped the call to speaker, so all could hear.
‘I’m the babysitter that’s got you’re your brat kids round for a sleepover, what you think of that Costello?’
‘I think I am not convinced.’
‘What the hell you mean you are not convinced? I got your fucking kids here, I am telling you!’
‘So you say. But I got your boss Frank Rothstein, So if you got my kids and I got your boss, that makes us about even, although the way I work it, your boss here is the one who pays you, isn’t that right?’
‘That prick Rothstein ain’t our boss Costello.’
‘Just so you know, you are on speaker genius. So tell me if Franco isn’t your boss, who is paying you? And which one are you anyway?’
‘Speaker? What the hell you talking about Costello? You are the one paying us, if you ever want to see these fucking kids of yours again, and how do you mean which one am I?’
‘I want to know if you are the clown who drives that pink car, or maybe you are the dude I hit upside of the head with the telephone?’ The shouting that ensued wasn’t pleasant. I held the telephone away from me ear. Rothstein and his gun toting partner exchanged glances, the yo-yo I had mashed in the face crouched on the floor making pathetic noises. I turned back to the phone, ‘Now listen to me,’ I said. ‘Before we go any further I want to speak to the girls, make sure they are OK.’
A pause then…‘You ain’t speaking to both of them Costello, you get to speak to one and that’s it.’
‘So let me speak to Dakota.’
‘Dakota?’
‘The one with the punk-rock hair,’ I sighed. A brief pause, then Dakota came on the line. ‘How you doing kid, what’s happening?’
Dakota told me she was doing just fine, and Paris too. She gave me the run down on the events of the night so far. She didn’t pull any punches. She told me how Rothstein’s goons had been pulling a B&E when they got home, how the thugs came on strong. She started to tell me how things turned nasty, when their Mom and Steve came home, but the phone was snatched away from her, and the gruff voice came back on the line.
‘So now you’ve spoken to the kid Costello, you better listen to what I got to tell you, and listen good if you want get these little girls of yours back in a condition you can recognize.’
Sitting on Frank Rothstein’s Dinner table now, my back to the gun man, I crossed my legs, made myself comfortable, ‘So tell me what you want,’ I said.
THE SEX NET 34
‘What the hell is going on here?’ Kimberly Costello—soon to be Forbes, was not happy. There were strangers in her home, and not for the first time. The girls were always bringing undesirables back to the house. But this was different, not boys this time, but men, even worse—they looked like immigrants—or convicts, maybe even both. She turned to Steven, but Steven had his hands up, that is when she noticed the gun.
Martino had Paris in a choke hold; He snapped the move on her fast, had to, as she reached for Diego’s gun. He said, ‘Hi, so you must be mom.’ Paris struggled, but Martino held her tight, told her to, loosen up, or he would throw the hurt on. Then twisted her neck like he meant it.
Kimberly gave him a ferocious stare, ‘Who are you people? What are you doing in our home?’ her voice was calm and ruthless, without the slightest trace of fear.
‘We got business to attend to lady, don’t you worry about a thing.’ said Martino smoothly, his gun pointing casually at the new arrivals.
‘They are trying to steal diamonds from Dad,’ choked Paris, ‘They say he has to give them what they want, or they will hurt us.’
‘My God,’ said Kimberly tartly, ‘What depths has your father sunk to now, involved with common criminals.’
‘Hey, who you calling common Lady,’ said Diego, lazily swinging his gun from side to side to attract her attention. You disrespecting us or something?’
Kimberly gave him an acid look.
‘You a hot looking chick and everything, but you are a fucking bitch on wheels, no wonder that husband of yours took a walk,’ said Diego.
‘My husband, as you call him, is a deadbeat. The fact that you gentlemen are involved with him proves my point.’
Martino raised his eyebrows, not believing what he was hearing. He beckoned to Kimberly, ‘Sit in the chair.’ swinging the barrel of his gun to emphasize the point
‘What if I don’t want to?’
‘Just take a seat lady, If you don’t, I will give you a crack in the mouth, then make you sit.’
Steve took a step forward his hands still in the air, ‘Now just a second fellows…’ Martino moved forward fast, punching Steve hard in the guts with the barrel of the snub nosed .45. Steve doubled over, gasping for breath. Martino cracked him on the back of the head with the revolver; the blow sent Steve sprawling forwards onto the tiled floor, blood gushing from his face.
‘Oh my God, you have killed him!’ shrieked Kimberly. Diego moved forward quickly, slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. A pause, then he hit her again, this time with his palm.
‘Hey, leave my mom alone, shouted Dakota.’ But Martino had her covered, with the snub nosed .45. ‘Sit down kid, and shut the fuck up, if you want to see tomorrow.’ He turned to Diego, tie the woman to the chair, use the duct tape, and don’t for get her mouth, I don’t want to have to listen to any more of her shit.’
Diego nodded, ‘What about the dude?’
˙He ain’t going to give us no problems. Tape the woman first, then lover boy next, and when you are done with him, drag him in the bathroom, that motherfucker is bleeding everywhere.’
‘What about us?’ asked Dakota, ‘You going to let us go?
‘Sure we are going to let you go sweet-lips, but we are going to take you on a magical mystery tour first, how’s that grab you?’
‘What if we don’t want to go with you,’ whispered Paris, looking scared.
Martino looked grim, ‘You don’t have any choice in the matter honey.’
Joe Russell walked through the presidential suite at the Peninsula Hotel. The place made him feel uncomfortable. It was the ritzy kind of spread, where soft living and highfalutin’ ways made a guy long for the simple things, the freedom of the ocean, a pacific dawn and fresh caught fish for supper. Swanky hotels might be necessary for clients like the Senator, or a CEO like Larry Miller, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Joe felt relieved the evening was coming to a close, another triumph for CCP, but he couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not even for a moment. If you got sloppy, that was the time mistakes were made, and in the close protection business mis
takes could be deadly.
He did a final sweep of the presidential floor, made sure the overnight team were in place. He figured Larry and his boys would be alright after he had finished drinking the bar dry. But the Senator was quite a different matter, she was capricious, unpredictable, and if she decided to go on a midnight jaunt, or pull some other crazy stunt, he wanted to make sure there were good men on duty, to head her off. Satisfied that, he had covered every angle, he headed for the lift. He figured he would take the boat out, anchor up off Catalina, sleep easy under the stars, then fish at dawn. Waiting for the lift, a familiar voice assailed him. The Senator.
‘Are you leaving us Mr. Russell, perhaps you have somewhere more important to go, like your partner Mr. Costello?’
Joe watched the lift doors. ‘Relax lady, you are in good hands, the squad I got watching you tonight are special forces professionals. Every one of them has served long years for their country, so lay back in your soft bed and read a magazine or something.’
‘How considerate of you Mr. Russell, but I think I would prefer a nightcap in the bar.’
Joe shot her a glance. ‘You sure that’s wise?’
‘Wise? What ever do you mean Mr. Russell?’
‘What I mean Senator, is that there is only one god-damn security risk here tonight, and that is you. Larry and the boys are down in the bar right now throwing back whiskey, so you can guarantee things are going to get messy, and I would prefer it if you were to steer clear.’
‘Are you suggesting I cannot hold my liquor Mr. Russell?’
‘Hell no, you want to go down there, be my guest, what I am telling you is it is no place for a lady.’
‘Really Mr. Russell, what quaint views you have, and yet you seem unconcerned for the welfare of Mr. Miller. How so?’
‘That old coot is so full of whiskey and bullshit, that bullets will bounce off him. You on the other hand concern me, because word has it, you got special enemies, the kind who don’t take kindly to the kind of business you are in. So take my advice and stay up here in the containment zone.’
