LA

by Blake Banner

  “So your idea is to ensure everything goes fine today, and draw him out a second time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s hope he goes for it. How do you intend to make the hit?”

  “Wolf’s-bane, otherwise known as monkshood, mousebane, women's bane or devil's helmet.”

  “Aconite.”

  “Yeah, also that.”

  “Interesting. How do you plan to administer it?”

  “I picked a whole bunch of the stuff. I’m going to boil it down and distill it.”

  “Distill it how?” I could hear the frown in his voice. “We don’t want to draw attention."

  “No, don’t worry. You put the boiled extract in the freezer and every hour you peel off the frozen water. That concentrates the suspended chemical solids: less water, you get more solids per ounce of water, right?”

  “I understand, Harry.”

  “You can do the same thing with wine. You freeze your Château Rothschild and peel off the ice every hour. That increases the alcohol concentration. Do that four or five times and you have damn fine brandy.”

  “Fascinating. I must try it. Getting back to the wolf’s-bane…”

  “I’ll do it ten or twelve times, so the concentration of aconite will be very high. Then I’ll mix the concentrated suspension with flour to make pellets. Next time we go to inspect the site, I’ll have a diversion prepared.”

  “Firecrackers.”

  “Yes.”

  “Homemade, of course. You don’t want the purchase to be traceable.”

  “Of course. When they are detonated everybody’s attention will be diverted toward the hills and the trees. I’ll use a BB gun to put a couple of pellets in his neck. The pellets will break up on impact, his skin will be damaged but not perforated. The aconite will be absorbed into the bloodstream through the damaged skin. The amount will be the equivalent of forty milliliters. The marks will look like insect stings and by the time they get him to an autopsy there will be no trace left of the poison.”

  “It will look as though he had a severe reaction to an insect bite.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “And the BB gun?”

  “Today I’m going to let him and his boys see the P226. The BB is an exact replica. When the firecrackers detonate it will be only natural that I draw it to protect him, just like his bodyguards. He won’t die for another six hours, by which time there will be no obvious connection with the detonations. When he dies, I’ll call off the fundraiser and return to New York.”

  He was quiet for a while. Then, “OK, good, no more careless slips, please. We’ll clear up this girl’s misapprehensions.”

  He was about to hang up. I said, “Brigadier.”

  “Yes, Harry.”

  “The colonel?”

  “No news yet.”

  “It’s too long.”

  “I know. As soon as we hear something I’ll be in touch.”

  He hung up and I went to the kitchen, where I pulled out a large pot, filled it partway with water and started boiling down the wolf’s-bane. I knew the brigadier well enough to know that he would not hurt an innocent person, but I also knew that there were other people behind him with more power and more authority. If they decided that Sheila was a risk to Cobra, or if they decided that she was not the innocent, naïve kid I thought she was, I was pretty sure they would not hesitate to eliminate her.

  Like I had told her that morning, “the end justifies the means” was a way of thinking which invariably led to corruption, because the means created the end. When protecting Cobra became the end, then Cobra could become the very enemy it was fighting against. I remembered Master Zamudio’s words to me. “Do not look into your enemy’s eyes, lest you become your enemy.”

  Had Cobra looked too long into its enemy’s eyes? Had I?

  I stirred the lethal poison and wondered.

  I didn’t eat lunch that day. I had a sickness in my stomach. At twelve I set about removing the slugs from a handful of rounds to make a few of what the brigadier called firecrackers, which I slipped into a soft leather satchel. At one I showered and dressed, took a stiff shot of Scotch and went down to the TVR. I listened to the growl of the engine and wondered if I was becoming weak, sentimental; wondered if I was losing…what? My edge? My killer instinct? My belief that I had the right to judge and execute my enemy?

  I put those thoughts out of my mind, put the beast in gear, let it roar and went after my prey, to set the ground for the kill. The means, I told myself, did not justify the end. The means created the end. The means were murder. The end was death.

  Nine

  I pulled up outside Cavendish’s place on Corona del Mar and called him on my cell. He told me he’d be right out. So I opened the door and sat with my ass against the hood, with my black Wayfarers shielding my eyes from the midday California sun. After five minutes the gates rolled back and a black Dodge Durango eased out and positioned itself in front of the TVR, while a dark blue Range Rover followed it and placed itself behind me, effectively making it impossible for me to move unless they did.

  Tony, the Marine I had spoken to the night before, swung down from the Range Rover and walked over to me. I watched him but I didn’t say anything. He asked me, “You armed?”

  “Are you?”

  “Always. Are you armed?”

  “Sig Sauer, P226.”

  “Hand it over. I shouldn’t let him get in the car with you.”

  “Relax, I never shoot people while I’m driving. Especially when I am investing seven figures in their foundations. I know you don’t get paid to think, pal, but sometimes it helps.”

  “You’re a wiseass and a big mouth, you know that?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I know that. Is it a problem for you, kid?”

  “Yeah, it’s a problem for me when my boss is riding with you and you’re armed. I shouldn’t let him ride with you.”

  “Thanks for sharing. Now go tell it to somebody who gives a shit.”

  He was about to answer, but touched the earpiece in his right ear, listened and turned to signal to the other boys in the Rover. The doors opened and three guys in suits climbed out. The four of them converged on the iron gate, which slid back and Cavendish hurried out, slightly hunched into his shoulders. The four men escorted him to the passenger side of my car. There I opened the door for him and he climbed in. When I had closed it again, Tony the Marine stepped up close to me, so his nose was just inches from mine.

  “Give me your piece.”

  With the forefinger and thumb of my right hand I pulled back my jacket so the butt of the Sig was visible under my arm.

  “Why don’t you try and take it?” His hand twitched and I interrupted the movement. “Put your hand inside my jacket and I’ll break your wrist, your elbow, your shoulder and your knee, all before you can squeal, ‘Mommy, help me.’”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re pretty tough, huh?”

  “Nah, my grandmother was tough. She used to eat babies, bones an’ all. I’m just a real mean son of a bitch. Anything else, or can I get going now? Your boyfriend’s buggy is blocking my path.”

  I watched the anger dilate his nostrils and narrow his eyes. I smiled with little warmth. “You want to explain to your boss why we’re stalled now, or after I break your arm and you lose your job?”

  He made a noise like I wasn’t worth it and returned to his Range Rover. I climbed in behind the wheel and fired up the huge V8 Ford Cosworth. The RAM pulled away and the big brute snarled after it, like a fire dragon champing at the bit. The Range Rover pulled in behind us. I gave Cavendish a lopsided grin.

  “Your boy isn’t happy.”

  “Tony?”

  “He doesn’t like the fact that I’m armed.”

  His eyes went wide. There was a trace of alarm in his expression. “You’re armed? What for?”

  “I figure if I’m taking you out of your comfort zone, to the park, if you’re doing me that favor because I asked you to, it’s my res
ponsibility to keep you safe, right?”

  He gave a nervous laugh. “I have a highly professional team…”

  I shook my head. “Uh-uh, one thing you learn in the Regiment, Charles, is never to leave safety and security in somebody else’s hands. That’s why I have a file on you, too. Did Sheila tell you? You will never be safer, Charles, than when you are with me.”

  And I looked him right in the eye and smiled.

  We spent an hour at the site, discussing, trying to visualize where the concert would be, where the VIP tent would go, how the entire thing would be laid out and set up. He was one of nature’s organizers, and soon warmed to the subject. He had mild, gentle criticism for all of my suggestions, and I made a point of seeking his guidance and his advice on just about everything from acoustics and cocktails to the color of napkins. His bodyguards stayed close. I observed their protocols and led him steadily toward the foot of the hills, where the trees grew thicker and the incline steeper. As we walked he laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “Harry, I am very fond of Sheila.” I made an expression of amused surprise with my face and showed it to him. He laughed and patted the shoulder where his hand lay. “I mean as a surrogate uncle, or father. I have no interest in her beyond that. I am happily married and I have two beautiful children. But as her mentor and friend, I do feel duty bound to ask you what your intentions are with her?”

  I restrained a laugh. “I don’t plan to marry her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He became serious. “I feared as much.”

  “Seriously?”

  He sighed. “The thing is, Harry, she is very young. I don’t just mean in years. I mean emotionally. She is extremely good at her job, but she is also very naïve and innocent. I’d go so far as to say that she is tender, and what to you may be a game, a bit of sophisticated fun, to her may be much more. I would hate for her to get hurt.”

  “Are you warning me off, Charles?”

  He frowned and shook his head vigorously. “No! Good heavens, no! Far be it from me to meddle in other people’s private lives. No, no, she is an adult and must fend for herself. But I know you are fundamentally a good man, and I am just asking you to be aware that, where life’s battle scars have given you tough skin, she is still very tender and fragile.”

  I nodded. “Understood.”

  “I believe she is going to call you this evening. I think…” He eyed me under his eyebrows. “I think she is rather taken with you.”

  “Well, let me reassure you, Charles, I am rather taken with her, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. Now, here…” I pointed at the path, where it wound up into the hills. “This path I would line with stalls showcasing local artisan skills. Everything from basket weaving to fine cheeses, beer, wine and organic beekeeping. The whole path—or this whole area—should be packed with stalls, all displaying the products of green, sustainable industries.”

  He was nodding judiciously and pursing his lips, but I kept right on going.

  “Because, Charles, the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that when we start building these small, sustainable companies in Colombia, and setting them afloat, where nine out of ten may become established as local suppliers of goods, one or two, here and there, might grow to be substantial enterprises that could operate on an international scale. And I have to tell you, I am not opposed to that. And I am not opposed to taking a small share of the profits, either.”

  He chuckled. “I am glad to hear you say that, Harry. It’s all very well having high ideals, but it is important to keep your feet firmly on the ground too. It is the market that makes the world tick, and profit drives the market. Nothing wrong in making a little profit. Which is why I prefer to operate with companies—independent companies—rather than with charities and NGOs. You can get involved with a project like a company, you can influence and guide it, and help them attain heights they would never have dreamed of themselves.”

  I made the face of admiration and smiled at him, like I was discovering a new friend and guide.

  “That can’t be wrong, can it?”

  “No, to be sure. That is not bad.”

  He looked at his watch. “I like your idea, Harry. Thank you for bringing me here to see this. I have fallen into the habit of being locked either in my office or in my house. I sometimes wonder if I am becoming a little agoraphobic. It has been good to get out and be part of this creative process.”

  “I’m glad.” I slapped him on the shoulder, smiling. “But I am not done with you yet. I have to go back to New York in a couple of days, and there are still a few things I need to go over with you tomorrow after I’ve spoken with Shauna Cooper.”

  “Come to my place.”

  I shook my head. “Here, Charles. Hands on, on the ground. Look, I’m seeing Shauna at nine thirty AM. We’ll be done by eleven. Let me collect you, we’ll wrap things up here and then let me buy you lunch.”

  He laughed. “How can I refuse? That will be fine. Now,” he looked at his watch, “I must get back to my office, and I believe you have to prepare for a special night in, if I am not very much mistaken.”

  I told him I was going to hang around a while, make some sketches and prepare for my meeting with Shauna Cooper the next day. I walked him back to the cars, discussing details, repeated that I would call for him the next day when I’d finished with Shauna, and, after they had climbed in and slammed the doors, I watched the two trucks drive off, back toward LA.

  When they were out of sight I sprung the trunk of the TVR and pulled out a soft leather satchel which I hung over my shoulder. Then I headed back toward the tree line which we had left behind—the place where I had suggested the sustainable crafts stalls should be.

  I walked past the spot and climbed up the slope for a couple of hundred yards, to where the parkland started to turn wild. There I found a secluded spot behind some walnut trees. I scrambled down and hid the bag containing the firecrackers under a mound of dry leaves, grass and twigs. There were a total of twenty rounds, some linked to go off in rapid succession, like bursts of automatic fire. The rest would go off singly, at short, random intervals. I connected the detonators and linked them to my cell. After that I made my way back to my car, taking a leisurely stroll.

  Behind the wheel, cruising back to Santa Monica, I got to wondering about Cavendish’s comments on Sheila. After her behavior that morning, I wasn’t so sure she’d be getting in touch any time soon, unless it was to talk about the fundraising event.

  That led me back to wondering, with a vaguely sick feeling, about the brigadier’s cryptic comment that he would “deal with” the problem with Sheila. There were not too many ways I could think of that he could do that. If she had not read the file, and I was pretty sure she hadn’t, she wasn’t a risk. If she had, I couldn’t see what options he would have to silence her, besides silencing her. Permanently.

  But as it turned out I was wrong in my assessment of Sheila. When I got back to the apartment, as I was climbing out of the TVR, my cell rang and it was her. I answered as I stepped into the gardens that overlook the Incline and the Pacific Highway.

  “Sheila.”

  “Harry,” a short silence, then, “Are you mad at me?”

  “No. Why should I be?”

  “My behavior this morning. I’m so embarrassed. I’m afraid I behaved rather stupidly. Of course it’s normal that you’d have a file on Charles. Like you said, it was just the same as him asking me to keep an eye on you. I just overreacted. I hope…” She trailed off.

  “Listen, don’t worry about it. I know you have a lot of respect for Charles, he’s your mentor and your guide. It’s normal you should feel protective. Did you tell him what happened?”

  She hesitated. “No, well, not exactly. I wanted to think things over first. I just told him I had seen you had a file on him. Nothing else.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, this morning I showed him my gun and I told him I had a file on him.”

  “You d
id?”

  “Of course. He didn’t like the gun, neither did Tony, his bodyguard, but he took the file for granted and told me he was compiling one on me.”

  She laughed. “Are we good then?”

  “If last night is anything to go by, I think we’re better than good. I think we’re great.”

  I felt her blush down the phone. “Really! Harry! What am I supposed to answer to that?”

  “Say you’ll have dinner with me tonight, and breakfast tomorrow.”

  She was quiet for a while, then, in a small voice, she said, “All right. Yes, that would be nice. But, Harry…?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s stay in?” She said it like it was a question. “I’ll bring over some groceries and cook us a meal. Is that OK?”

  I felt a twist of something painful in my gut that might have been guilt. I forced a smile into my voice and said, “That sounds great. I’d like that.”

  “Good, I’ll be there six thirtyish.”

  “Six thirtyish? What time is that?”

  She giggled. “Six thirty, or thereabouts.”

  “I’ll see you thenish, then.”

  She laughed again and hung up. I walked to the balustrade and leaned on it with my elbows. Directly below me was the California Incline, below that the highway, with it’s rows of Spanish villas backing onto the broad sands of the beach, and the vast ocean beyond. The cell was still in my hand. I looked at it a moment, then called the brigadier.

  “News?”

  “Yeah, we went to the park and had fun.”

  “He’s buying it?”

  “Looks that way. We’re going again tomorrow.”

  “You have everything set up?”

  “Yes. I took care of that this morning. This evening the girl is coming to cook me dinner.”

  “The girl, Harry?”