“Yes, Isaac, I’m sure.”
“What about me?” Maritza said.
I took her hand. “I think you, Karen and Olga should leave this house for a while.” I caught the familiar flash of defiance in her eyes and braced myself for what was coming.
“No, I want to come with you.”
“Please, Maritza. Do as I ask.”
Angry, she looked at Karen, who only shrugged and said, “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, David, but I’m not going anywhere. This is my house.”
“Mine too,” Olga said, getting to her feet.
Exasperated, I tore at my hair and glared at Vlad. “Why don’t women ever listen?”
“Because most of the time it’s crazy talk,” Karen said. “You should be listening to us.”
“Whatever. Peter and I have to get rid of these bodies.”
It was nearly midnight when we finished. We’d loaded the dead grey-suits into the back of the Escalade. I drove to a remote forested area near Rattlesnake Canyon Park and abandoned the vehicle. Peter had followed me in the Explorer and drove me back to Karen’s house. When we entered, Karen, Olga and Maritza were on their hands and knees looking like well-dressed cleaning women, trying in vain to wash away the blood and the gore.
“This is never coming out,” Karen said. For the first time since I’d met her, she was on the verge of tears.
Isaac had fallen asleep on the sofa, his bags sitting next to him. Vlad sat next him, drinking a glass of vodka and watching the women.
“This is waste of time,” he said, pulling out his burner to make a call. For several minutes Vlad conversed with someone in Russian. Apparently his friends never slept.
I touched Vlad’s arm. “I want someone to stay here and protect the girls.”
Nodding, Vlad relayed the information. After he had disconnected he said, “Someone will come in the morning.”
“I don’t understand,” Karen said.
“When they finish, you will not know it happened. Two more men will stay here for protection.”
“For how long?”
“As long as you need them.”
“Thank you, Vlad,” Karen said. “Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I would require Russian bodyguards. Tell me, are they handsome?”
“They have guns.”
“Perfect. My standards have really gone to hell since you people showed up.”
“Don’t get me started,” Isaac said, and he and Karen shared a laugh.
Peter stood and, grabbing Isaac’s bags, headed for the front door. “I’ll put these in the car.”
I followed him outside to the open garage door. Inside stood two vehicles—a late-model Lexus sedan and an immaculate 1965 Mercedes Benz 220SE silver convertible. Peter approached the Mercedes and used his keys to unlock the trunk.
“Wow, a classic,” I said. “And no putting the top down.”
“Don’t worry.”
After Peter loaded the bags into the trunk, I stopped him and shook his hand. “Please take care of Isaac for me,” I said.
“I will. And there’s something you can do for me.”
“Sure, name it.”
“They injected Sasha with something that appears to control her symptoms. If we had a sample we could study it.”
“I’ll get your sample.”
“Wonderful. Good luck.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine and put the top up. It was then I realized that this guy had more grit than I had given him credit for.
Isaac walked into the garage with Maritza. Smiling with kindness he took my hand. “Dave, let me come with you. I can help.”
I smiled at my friend and gripped his shoulder. “Isaac, these people almost killed you once back in Tres Marias. You’re lucky to be alive. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Funny. Almost exactly what I was going to say to you.”
“Well, I seem to lead a charmed life.”
“Luck can run out.”
“When you get back to Tres Marias, tell Warnick what’s happening. Maybe there’s something he can do.”
“I will. Stay safe.”
He embraced me deeply, then touched Maritza’s hand. She hugged the old man and kissed his cheek.
“What was that for?” he said.
“Just because.”
We watched them drive off into the night, Maritza taking my hand. “By the way, I’m coming with you,” she said.
“No, you’re not.”
“We’ll see.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Becky
Maritza sat next to me in the passenger seat, her arms curled up on her chest, dozing, as I raced down the 101 towards LA. It had been no use convincing her to stay behind. The truth was, I was glad she was with me. But I was nevertheless worried for her safety. What’s done is done, I thought. I checked the rearview mirror and saw Vlad in the backseat, his eyes alert.
I spent the entire drive afraid that the drones would spot Lewis’s Explorer. But as we got closer to the city, I realized that Walt Freeman was no longer interested in me. He had gotten what he wanted—Sasha. I thought about the Russian girl, how I had first encountered her in the pouring rain. I realized that I cared for her—not in the same way I cared for Maritza. But I felt a deep responsibility for her. With every passing minute the chances of saving her were dwindling. Realistically she may have been already lost to us.
Though the sky was threatening, the road was dry. I drove on, nowhere near tired. So many times I had come to what I thought was the end and somehow I had avoided death with the help of my friends. I felt that way now. But once we learned where Trower had taken Sasha, did I really think our small group would be able to rescue her? We needed more people. I wished the angel would appear and tell me what to do. She had warned me to protect Sasha. God must have meant for me to stay alive, if only for that reason. So far, I’d failed my mission.
We arrived in Glendale at around 2 am. Slowly I drove past endless lines of parked cars and, locating the house, double-parked on the street. Vlad’s friend was still out of the country, so the house was empty. I got out, waited for Vlad to get behind the wheel and entered the house through the kitchen to a door leading to the garage. When I switched on the lights, I found my Tahoe parked there exactly as I’d left it.
I remembered that the Korean had given me an extra set of California license plates. I got those out of the spare tire well and, using a screwdriver, swapped out the ones on the vehicle. A manila envelope was taped to the back of one of them, containing new registration to match the plates.
I replaced the registration in the glove compartment and pulled the vehicle out into the street. Then Vlad pulled the Explorer into the garage and I parked the Tahoe in the driveway. Vlad had already contacted his friend and instructed him to dispose of Lewis’s vehicle upon his return.
We entered the house, Maritza carrying a soft brown leather duffel bag filled with clothes and shoes. As we sat in the kitchen, Vlad made us a pot of coffee. Though I wanted to see Becky as soon as possible before she could leave for work, I realized that showing up at her apartment at all hours might attract the police. So we decided to rest till morning. In a few minutes the coffee was ready. No one felt like talking.
“I’m hungry,” Maritza said. She got to her feet and began rummaging through the cabinets. Making a dolphin noise, she returned to the table, proudly waving a box at us. “Pop Tarts!” No reaction. “Oh, come on.”
I decided to throw her a bone. “Sounds good.”
She found the toaster and threw a couple in. In a few minutes, we were eating.
“Let’s get some sleep,” I said when we were finished. “I want to get an early start.”
Vlad took the smaller of the two bedrooms, leaving the master bedroom for Maritza—and possibly me.
“You’ll be safe in here,” I said, intending to leave.
As I turned to go, she grabbed my hand. “I’ll be safer if you s
tay with me.” Then she yanked me inside and locked the door.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? Vlad is just down the hall.”
“Let him find his own fun.”
Outside, a blanket of quiet fell over the neighborhood, broken only by the hooting of an owl. Maritza kept looking at me with those incredible hazel eyes. Before I knew it, I was holding her face in my hands and kissing her. Then our clothes came off and we were lying in bed. She reached over, grabbed her purse from the floor and pulled out a condom.
“I know,” I said. “For emergencies.”
“Or urgencies.”
I became lost in her and didn’t remember falling asleep. A few hours later I squinted at the morning light streaming in through the sheers curtains. I was alone. Dressing quickly, I went into the kitchen where Maritza and Vlad were eating McDonald’s. I grabbed some coffee and joined them. Maritza had already showered and changed clothes. She looked amazing.
“So where does this woman live?” Maritza said to me.
“Park La Brea Apartments.”
“That’s next to The Grove.”
“Is that a problem?”
“We must get there early,” Vlad said. “Later, there will be a lot of parents with children, waiting to see Santa. Traffic will be heavy.”
“Okay, good to know. How’s your leg?”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” Maritza said. “You can’t go like that.”
I gave Vlad a once-over, then regarded myself. “Like what?”
“You both look like Jason Statham after a serious ass-kicking. Vlad, there’s blood on your pants! Honestly, how far do you think you’ll get?”
She was right, but we didn’t have time for this. “What do you suggest?”
“You’d better shower and put on some fresh clothes. And for God’s sakes, shave.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go first. Vlad, maybe one of your friends has something that will fit me.”
Vlad had found a pair of clean blue jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, which he wore under a leather jacket. The only thing left for me was a black suit, grey cotton shirt and dress shoes.
“You both look . . . nice,” Maritza said, rubbing my smooth cheek and kissing it. “I can’t believe how young you look!”
“I feel like I should be seating people for dinner at Cut.”
“You’re fine. And how do you know about that place?”
“I get around.” Then to Vlad, “There’s no way we’re staying dressed like this. Let’s take a change of clothes for the road. Do we need gas?”
“Already done.”
In many ways Vlad was like me. No matter how broken or bleeding, he did what needed to be done. It was about survival. As we headed for the front door, Maritza followed us, carrying her purse.
“Where are you going?” I said.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Maritza, please. Stay here till we return.”
“Like hell. David. You came back for me, remember? You said it was because you didn’t want to leave me. Besides, two guys who look like they should be bag men for Whitey Bulger getting information from a woman? Please.”
“You said we looked nice.”
“I lied to save time. Let me talk to her.”
Sighing, I looked at Vlad, who only shrugged. “Fine, but I’m not giving you a weapon.”
“Baby steps,” she said and went out the front door ahead of us. “Baby steps.”
Though it was early, the traffic on West 3rd Street was already heavy. The Park La Brea Apartments was a sprawling complex next to a massive outdoor shopping mall called The Grove. We circled twice, looking for a parking spot. As usual, Maritza was riding shotgun while Vlad perched in the backseat.
“If we park at the Grove we could walk over,” she said.
“That’s not bad,” Vlad said. “We can hide our vehicle in the parking structure.”
“Fine by me,” I said.
I drove through the streets inside the Grove, marveling at the amazing high-end shops and restaurants. We passed a huge fountain where an area had already been cordoned off for Santa Claus. Eventually I found a parking structure and pulled into it, taking a ticket and selecting a space on the lowest floor.
Knowing that we couldn’t carry long guns, I selected two Glocks from my stash in the rear and handed one to Vlad. He tucked it in his belt behind him under his jacket. I did the same.
When I looked up, Maritza was pouting at me.
“I said, you weren’t getting a weapon.”
“Meanie.”
We walked out of the parking structure towards 3rd Street. Then we entered the Park La Brea Apartments property and searched for a map. Eventually we located Becky’s apartment. Walking briskly towards the building, we tried our best to look non-threatening. A number of people were out running or walking small white dogs. Gardeners were getting an early start, trimming hedges and tending flower beds.
Becky’s apartment was located on the top floor facing north—away from 3rd Street. As we approached the elevators, an elderly woman came out her front door and looked us over with a judgmental eye. We smiled pleasantly, Maritza instinctively taking my hand. When the old lady smiled back, I knew we’d be fine. We waited for her to walk off and rode the elevator up.
The apartment was located on a corner. Slowly we approached the door. Smoothing her hair and slipping on her sunglasses, Maritza approached the door and rang the bell, positioning herself directly in front of the peephole viewer. Vlad and I stood on either side, out of range.
At first there was no answer. As she was about to ring again, a familiar voice said, “Who is it?”
“Sorry to bother you,” Maritza said, her tone pleasant. “I moved in down the hall and was wondering if you’ve seen who’s been stealing my newspaper. After a moment we heard a clicking noise and the door opened a crack. “I’m really sorry about this.”
I banged the door open—knocking Becky backwards onto her butt—and slipped in. Maritza followed, then Vlad, who locked the door. Becky tried to scream, but I grabbed her arm, pulled her close and pointed my weapon at her face to shut her up.
“I told you I’d be back,” I said. Then to Vlad, “Check the other rooms.” Drawing his weapon, he searched the apartment.
Maritza knelt beside me and, gently pushing my gun aside, looked directly into Becky’s eyes. “We’re not here to hurt you. But you need to tell us what we want to know.”
I stood and extended my hand, which she took reluctantly, and helped her to her feet. I noticed that though she had covered up the bruise from when I hit her, it was still visible.
The apartment was unusually large for a single person, decorated simply but expensively with Henredon-quality furniture and original art on the walls. I walked Becky into the kitchen and motioned for her to sit at the oak table. Vlad appeared, carrying a purring long-haired grey cat.
“I find this cat only.” He set the animal down and it continued purring and rubbing against his leg.
The three of us sat facing Becky. Turning to Maritza she said, “Do you always wear sunglasses indoors . . . Ms. Lopez?”
Maritza looked at me and removed her sunglasses. “So you recognized me.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Then why did you open the door?”
“I thought you were here for a story. Reporters have been bothering us for weeks since the IPO announcement. I thought I could get rid of you.”
“Where have they taken Sasha?” I said.
“Sasha? I have no idea.”
Looking at the others I sighed deeply. “I’m aware that women have a higher pain threshold than men. I’m prepared to go as far as I need to.” Then indicating Vlad, “He’s prepared to go even farther for his sister. It would be better if you told us.”
As Becky’s eyes widened, Maritza touched her hand. “Look, Becky, I know you don’t want this. And whatever loyalty you might have to these people, come on
, they don’t deserve it. Think about those girls who died.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“No, of course not. You were only doing what you were told. But there’s another girl, and we can still save her. Sasha. We both know she’s in danger. Becky, she’s only nineteen. Please. Will you help us?”
“I can’t . . .”
Jumping to my feet, I turned to Vlad. “That’s enough. Hold her.”
Vlad pulled Becky’s hands behind her with one hand and used the other to cover her mouth. She began squirming and tried to scream through his hand. I crossed to the kitchen counter and found a wooden knife block filled with Henckels knives. I grabbed the largest one, tested the blade using my thumb and returned to the table.
“David, come on,” Maritza said, her voice tense. “You don’t need to do this.”
Ignoring her, I looked directly into Becky’s eyes. “It was because of you, those girls are dead. You recruited them. It’s time for you to pay.” I pulled a chair up close to her and grabbed her hand, laying it palm-down on the table and splaying her fingers. Then I pressed my hand down on top of hers and brought the knife in close. Becky tried screaming again, her eyes rolling up into her head. I thought she might pass out.
I spoke as calmly as I could. “I will take one finger at a time, till you tell us. When I’m done with this hand I’ll start on the other.” Then to Maritza, “You should probably leave.”
Her face filled with anger and shock, Maritza got up and stormed out of the room. “You bastard!”
Becky whimpered through Vlad’s hand and continued wriggling her plump body, trying to get away. Her eyes glistening, they kept darting between Vlad and me. Both of us wore expressions devoid of feeling or sympathy.
“I’ll ask you again,” I said, holding the knife blade over the first joint of her pinky. “Where have they taken Sasha?”
Sucking in air she tried speaking through Vlad’s hand. He looked at me questioningly and, seeing my expression, carefully removed his hand.
“There’s another facility. In-in the desert.”
“Where?”
“Please, can I have some water?” I put the knife aside and got to my feet to look for a glass. “There’s bottled water in the fridge.” I filled the glass and brought it over. Becky took it gratefully and drank. “Thank you.”
Even The Dead Will Bleed Page 21
