Our first priority was to get out of LA unnoticed. Once we were safe we could figure out what to do. I tried to think of places we might try. I even thought that if we could make it up to Mt. Shasta, we could stay with Guthrie and his wife. But being on the road for four or five hours was risky. And I didn’t know if Sasha would be up for that kind of trip. I needed help.
“Hello?” Maritza’s voice was quiet and intense on the cell phone.
“I need your help,” I said.
“Where are you?”
“Better not to say. Can we talk?” She didn’t respond. “Maritza?”
“I’m at my desk. Can I call you right back?”
“Sure.”
She disconnected. When I looked up from the kitchen table I saw Sasha and her brother watching me expectantly. The circles under Sasha’s eyes looked darker and the veins in her arms were more pronounced. She seemed thinner—unusual for a pregnancy, I felt. A few minutes later my phone vibrated.
“Hey,” I said.
“Sorry, I had to step outside. Too many strangers hanging around the station.”
“Grey-suits?”
“Yeah.”
“Look, I need a place to hole up outside the city. When they killed Dr. Fernandes—”
“His name was on that file you gave me.”
“Yes, he was the one who examined Sasha. The grey-suits got to him. I can explain later.”
“The police said it was a robbery and that we shouldn’t be reporting anything else.”
“That’s a lie. He was killed because he helped us.”
“How is she?”
“Not well. Do you know someplace we can go?”
“No. I need to make some calls. Can you give me an hour?”
“Sure.”
I was about to disconnect when Maritza whispered something to me. “David, be careful.”
“I will. Later.”
I was never good at picking up cues from women. Though the words seemed innocent enough, it was the way she had said it that got to me. Her voice had been filled with an undercurrent of raw emotion. What was that supposed to mean?
I got up from the table and poured myself a cup of coffee. Sasha and Vlad were sitting at the table, she changing the dressing on her brother’s hand.
“I’m arranging for a safe house outside of LA,” I said. “Now, we need to find a way to get there.”
“Tahoe is no good?” Vlad said.
“They’ll be looking for that vehicle. What about your friends from the limo service?”
“All killed by the cops at the warehouse.”
“We need a vehicle, Vlad. And it has to be clean.”
“I understand.” He became thoughtful. “I’ll make some calls.”
When Vlad pulled out his cell phone I reached over and snatched it. “I thought I told you to buy a burner!”
“No one has this number—it’s fine.”
“Someone does. This could be how they found you at Cuco’s house.”
Quickly I removed the back of the phone and disassembled it, taking out the battery and SIM card. Then I went over to the sink, turned on the garbage disposal and dropped the card in. It vanished with a crunch as I handed back the phone in pieces.
“Is there an electronics store around here?” I said.
“Target, few blocks away.”
“Can you walk it?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I want you to get a new phone. Maritza may have gotten back to us by then.”
“Okay, boss.”
Vlad was probably pissed—taking orders from a Polack. I was certain that there was whole WW II vibe going on here, but I didn’t give a shit. After he left I went into the living room and turned on the TV, looking for news. There wasn’t any more local news so I flipped around the dial till I came to C-SPAN. I nearly fell off the sofa.
Walt Freeman in all his flabby glory was sitting at a long table with microphones, surrounded by uniformed military men and other plainclothes men who looked like attorneys. As Sasha walked into the room I cranked up the volume. She sat next to me, resting her hand on my knee.
“It’s him,” she said.
“Mr. Freeman,” one of the congressmen said, “is it your position that the money we allocated for your program last time was not used for human trials?”
With a stony expression, Walt leaned forward and spoke directly into the microphone, his jowls waggling. “Like-uh-said, Congressman, our protocol calls for animal trials. Mice, dogs, monkeys and the like.”
“And you further contend that the military applicability of the serum is appropriate . . .”
My phone vibrated and I answered right away. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Maritza said.
“Don’t say my name. Are you near a TV?”
“Yeah. I decided to come home. Too risky to talk at the station.”
“Turn on C-SPAN. I’ll wait.”
After a moment I heard her television echoing the same program over the phone. I turned down the volume on my TV.
“That’s Walt Freeman?” she said.
“Yes. Can you record the program?”
“I can do better than that. I’ll make a call later and get a copy of the video sent to the station.”
“I think it’ll be worth watching.”
“Even though I’m not officially investigating the murders anymore.”
“Right. Listen, I need you to step outside.”
“Wow, you are paranoid.”
“I’m still alive. Let me know when you’re out of the house.”
After a moment she came back on. “I’m on the street. You remember me mentioning my friend Karen?”
“The researcher, yes.”
“She lives in Santa Barbara. I explained the situation and she’s agreed to let you guys stay with her temporarily.”
“That’s awesome! When can we go?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“I need to take care of a few things. Thank you, Maritza.”
“David, listen. I thought I could meet you up there and make the introductions.”
“No, don’t. I don’t want anyone following you. We’ll go up there by ourselves. We can work out a way to meet later.”
“Sure,” she said. She sounded disappointed.
“Text me the address. I’ll be in touch.”
After I disconnected I turned to Sasha. She was looking at me curiously, her feet tucked beneath her on the sofa like a cat.
“What?”
“I knew you like this girl.” She got up stiffly. “I’m going to pack,” she said, walking away without looking back. “Don’t help.”
See, this was the thing, getting involved with a nineteen-year-old girl. They’re stupid, harboring these insane, romantic ideas. I didn’t have time for this shit. All I wanted was to keep her safe, despite the fact that she might turn into a cutter and tear me to pieces.
Whatever. I told myself I was doing it for the baby. Then this jealousy crap. Seriously, I didn’t need it! My whole reason for coming to LA was to kill Walt Freeman and expose the evil that he and his company had wrought. Now I had Sasha to look after. The angel had said that she was important. I couldn’t see how. Something told me to suck it up and keep going. I’d been doing a lot of that lately.
Vlad returned with a new phone. “All set,” he said. “A vehicle will come in two hours.”
“And it’s clean, right?” I said.
“Yes. You’re not the only guy with training.”
“Sorry, Vlad. Just trying to be careful. Better get packed. And can you please find some clothes that are less conspicuous? You look like a bible salesman.”
I turned back to the TV and continued watching the congressional hearing. Mr. Like-uh-said was outlining the history of the military program, mentioning the founders of Robbin-Sear Industries, Dr. John Robbin and Dr. William Sear.
He didn’t say anything about Baseborn Identity Research. Instead Walt painted a pict
ure of scientists dedicated to helping soldiers fighting in foreign countries. Protecting them from disease and hardship. By the time he was through he had made the two founders sound like candidates for sainthood.
“That sounds very patriotic,” another congressman said. “Tell us about the botched experiment in Guatemala. I believe it was near Jacaltenango?”
“We were there to administer vaccines to inoculate people against bubonic plague. It was a humanitarian mission, Congressman. Nothing to do with our program.”
“Everyone died.”
“Yes, unfortunately. It wasn’t until too late that we discovered the vaccine had been contaminated.”
“That is unfortunate. Why did you burn the village to the ground?”
“We had to contain the disease. Standard protocol.”
The congressman referred to his notes, then glared at Walt. “And who was in charge of that operation?”
“Robert Creasy.”
“Mr. Creasy was ordered to appear at this hearing, was he not?” He looked at his colleagues on either side of him. “Why isn’t he here?”
Covering his microphone Walt leaned over as one of the attorneys began whispering in his ear. Then he faced the panel. “We believe Robert Creasy took his own life.”
“I see,” the congressman said, obviously pleased with himself at having connected the dots. “Guilt over Guatemala, perhaps?”
Walt bristled. “I’m not a psychiatrist, Congressman.”
Over the next hour I listened carefully to Walt’s testimony. There was never any mention of what happened in Tres Marias or Mt. Shasta. And of course no one referred to the fact that cutters were hunting openly in LA.
Walt handled the hearing like a pro, leaving the congressmen with questions while protecting the program. As long as he was alive, the killing would continue. My original instinct had been correct.
Walt Freeman needed to be dead.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Picnic at Griffith Park
When I stepped into the alley carrying my duffel bag, I found a tan-and-white Forester motorhome parked there. A skinny goth poser, in tight black jeans and with a cigarette dangling between his lips, was polishing one of the chrome rims with a soft cloth. Behind the vehicle a driver waited in a black town car with the engine running.
“No way,” I said to no one.
Vlad and Sasha joined us in the alley. Vlad began speaking in Russian to the undernourished kid, who stood there irritably, saying “Da” in answer to every question. When I turned to look at Sasha I noticed that she was unimpressed.
“This is a little obvious, don’t you think?” I said.
“Americans. Always complaining.”
The kid flicked his cigarette away, opened the main door and entered. Vlad, Sasha and I followed, carrying our bags. The interior was roomy with wood paneling, colorful carpeting and a sofa. We threw our bags onto a queen bed in the rear. Marilyn Manson was about to leave when I took Vlad aside.
“What about weapons?” I said.
He said something to the kid who, rolling his eyes like a middle-school girl, opened a wardrobe, revealing a cache of long guns, pistols and ammunition.
“Nice.”
Outside, Vlad handed the kid the cash I had put up. He counted it quickly and, joining his friend in the town car, waited for us to pull out. Sasha was already seated on the small sofa. I was accustomed to driving and headed for the driver’s seat. Vlad stopped me with a forearm to the chest.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“I thought I was driving.”
“This vehicle is my responsibility.”
“I paid for it.” He wasn’t impressed. “Fine, whatever.”
In a few moments we were on the road. We had left my Tahoe parked in the garage. When the Russian’s friend returned he would watch it for us. As we pulled into the busy street, the town car followed us, then made an unsafe left turn and vanished, tires squealing. Vlad turned right and we were on our way.
“Depending on traffic, we should be there in a couple of hours,” I said.
I looked back at Sasha. She was curled in a little ball like a cat, her eyes closed. I was worried about her—I didn’t know what to expect. She had been unusually quiet since my chat with Maritza.
As we approached the 134 Freeway we saw a police checkpoint. In the distance between the office buildings I noticed a black drone hovering.
“We need to find another way,” I said.
Vlad squinted at the drone and turned at the next corner, heading west. “They are watching the freeway.”
“What can we do?”
“Relax. This is my job.”
We continued on surface streets through unfamiliar neighborhoods. Soon we were in Burbank. Up ahead we spotted police activity. Carefully Vlad maneuvered around the congestion and made a left at an intersection.
“I will cut through the park,” he said.
I had heard of Griffith Park. A lot of movies had been shot there over the years. “Isn’t there an observatory somewhere near here?”
“Yes.” He pointed up at the hills.
The foliage was winterized and sparse. It was Saturday, and as we drove slowly up a narrow winding road we passed families walking with their children. Picnic tables were scattered throughout. Squirrels were everywhere. I spotted an ABC7 Eyewitness News van parked in one of the small lots. As we rolled past I saw Maritza speaking to a group of Boy Scouts and their leaders. Her cameraman was with her, recording the interview.
Though I wanted to tell Vlad to pull over so that I could speak with her, we had to keep moving.
“Where exactly are we going?” I said.
“We go through the park. Other side, there is Los Feliz Boulevard. We go west from there.”
As I watched Maritza disappearing in the large side mirror I heard a woman scream. Vlad slowed down. People were running, carrying frightened children and shouting. I had become so attuned to this kind of scene, I knew instinctively that someone was dead.
A throng of screaming people passed in front of us. Vlad slammed on his breaks but couldn’t avoid hitting a man and knocking him down. Now more panicked people poured out of picnic areas and onto the road.
Vlad turned to me, confused. “What the hell is happening?”
“Pull over,” I said. Then I got up quickly and headed for the wardrobe as Vlad found a secluded parking spot among the trees.
“What’s going on?” Sasha said, rubbing her eyes.
“Close the day/night shades.” She did as I asked.
Vlad stood next to me as I flung the wardrobe door open and removed two Glocks—one for myself and one for him. Hastily I grabbed two clips, tossed one to the Russian and loaded my own weapon.
“I need you to stay here,” I said to Sasha.
“Give me gun.”
I looked at Vlad. He nodded reluctantly. I grabbed another Glock, loaded the clip and handed it to her. “Don’t fire unless you have to.”
“Cutters?” Vlad said.
“Probably.” I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and called Maritza, praying that she would answer.
“David?” she said.
“What’s happening?”
“They found another body. Skinned and half-eaten. They think the killers might still be in the park.”
My stomach lurched. “Maritza, listen to me. You need to get out of there.”
“But I want to interview the policeman in charge.”
“No, forget that.”
A loud banging on the side of the vehicle startled us. We could hear people screaming in Spanish.
“Don’t open the door,” I said. “Just stay quiet and wait.”
Eventually the noise subsided as the mob moved on.
“What’s going on?” Maritza said. “Where are you?”
“We’re in a motorhome not too far from you. Can you make it over here?”
“Everything’s crazy . . . Oh my—”
“Maritza? What is
it?” I heard a crackling noise, followed by maddening silence. Then the connection dropped.”
“We need to help her,” I said to Vlad.
“Too dangerous.”
“I’ll go. You stay here and protect Sasha.”
“Dave, I’m telling you. Don’t go out there.”
“I have to.” I moved towards the door and listened. The voices outside sounded far away. “Shut the door behind me and lock it. Don’t open it for anyone except me.”
“Dave, no!” Sasha said, throwing her arms around me. “Please, we can leave!”
I tried pulling her away, but she clung to me like she was afraid of falling. “Sasha, I’ll be okay.” She relaxed her arms and looked at me. I tried a smile. “Stay here with your brother.”
She kissed me hard on the lips, hugged me one last time and let go. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the handle and opened the door. Raising her weapon, Sasha covered me as I bounded outside. Then Vlad closed the door and locked it.
My gun in my hand, I looked for the man we had struck earlier. He was gone. Something moved out of the corner of my eye. When I turned I was face-to-face with a cop. He held his weapon out in front of him with both hands. They were shaking.
Carefully I laid my weapon on the ground and raised my hands. “I’m licensed to carry that,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I need to find my friend. She’s in danger.”
He lowered his own weapon and pointed towards my gun. “Better put that away,” he said. “Tell me where she is.”
I did as I was told and followed him. We had only gone a short distance when a screaming mob headed towards us. They reminded me of the hordes of undead I’d come across time and again in Tres Marias. But these were humans—ordinary people out of their minds with fear. Then I realized that some of them were bloody.
The cop and I pushed our way through to the area where the news van had been parked. I could barely make it out over the heads of the terrorized crowd. As we got closer I saw something moving in the trees. A group of shirtless men was hunched over something on the ground. Then I heard gurgling noises.
“What . . .” the cop said.
“Careful. They’re feeding.”
“Where’s your friend?”
Even The Dead Will Bleed Page 13
