The Magic Bullet

by Andrew Neiderman

  This was good. Vico and his crowd were still able to go after them, and if Frankie’s cousin was really as connected as Frankie had claimed he was, they would have a lot of help finding Demi and Taylor. At least they wouldn’t blame him. He was still helping them, wasn’t he? Confident again, he called Vico to let him know what was happening.

  “You sure she’s gone, left the area?”

  “They took stuff they wouldn’t leave behind.”

  Vico was quiet a moment. “All right. Get your ass back over here,” Frankie said. “I don’t want you disappearing on me, too. We need to regroup quickly.”

  “Well, what will we do?”

  “Just get back,” Frankie said. “Wait.” He was listening to someone. “Okay. We need pictures of both of them. Good pictures.”

  “Right,” Warren said.

  He went to get the pictures as soon as he hung up but then paused to think. Now that Vico had mentioned it, Warren considered running off himself. Maybe he could stay away long enough for Frankie to die. But then again, if he did run off, he’d be looking over his shoulder constantly. Frankie would have him killed just for some final satisfaction, even after his own death. How had he gotten himself into this mess so quickly? He dreamed of starting the day over and not having seized the brat, but this was no time for regrets and wishful thinking. He had to think on his feet or die. He rejected flight. Besides, there was still an opportunity To make some big money out of this.

  When he returned to Vico’s, he found him dressed and a stranger waiting, a man Frankie’s cousin had sent. Frankie introduced him simply as Scooter. He was a tall, dark man who looked like a banker, impeccably dressed in a pin-stripe suit with expensive Italian shoes and a perfect Windsor-knotted black tie. He had thin, tight lips, a sharp jaw, and gaunt cheeks. It was only his dark-gray eyes that revealed the cold, emotionless soul inside that shell of a body. There was no doubt in Warren’s mind that this guy would strangle his own mother if the job called for that. It gave him chills just to be in the man’s company.

  “My cousin likes being disappointed ten times less than I do,” Frankie told Warren. “Scooter’s one of his top men. He happened to be nearby finishing another job. I got Dr. Parker’s home address in Los Angeles. We’ve got people waiting for us nearby. They’re keeping an eye out. You bring the pictures I told you to bring?”

  “Yes,” Warren said, and quickly handed the pictures of Demi and Taylor to him. He just glanced at them and handed them to Scooter.

  “Yeah, this is good. I’ll get these out,” he said and went to Frankie’s home office.

  “Get these out? Jesus, you guys are like the police.”

  “Let’s just say we share resources,” Frankie said. “Go get something to eat. Lourdes, my maid, fixed some fajitas for us. We’re leaving for L.A. right away.”

  “I thought you guys only eat pasta at times like this,” Warren said. He thought it was pretty funny and wanted desperately to lighten up the moment, but neither Frankie nor Tony laughed.

  A little less than an hour later, they were all in Frankie’s sedan heading for Los Angeles, where Warren fully expected he’d face Demi again. He hoped this time he would satisfy everyone and live.

  Frankie sat in the rear with him. He had taken a bed pillow and looked very tired but leaped to open his cell when it rang. He listened and then said, “We’ll decide when we get there.”

  He turned to Warren.

  “Still no sign of them at Doctor Parker’s house.’Course, they could have gone to a hotel or something, expecting we’d go to Parker’s.”

  “What about where he works? The hospital?” Warren suggested.

  Frankie thought. “You know that’s a good possibility. He checks the kid in as a patient. Who’d suspect that?”

  “What’s the hospital?” Scooter asked without turning around.

  “U.S.C.,” Warren replied quickly.

  Scooter went to his own cell phone and spoke softly, too softly for Warren to hear.

  “We’ll see if he checked the kid into the hospital,” he said after he shut his phone.

  “Jesus, you guys really are something else,” Warren said. He felt like a boy trying to placate a bully, flattering him to keep him from smashing in his face.

  No one responded. No one spoke. Frankie stared blankly ahead. Scooter sat straight and unmoving. Tony drove in silence. Warren gazed out the window at cars flying by in the opposite direction, their darkened interiors suddenly ominous, depressing to him. He longed for Demi’s warm company, even if they were arguing.

  It’s like I’m in a one-car funeral procession, he thought and hoped it wasn’t his own.

  Scooter’s phone rang twenty minutes later. He grunted a hello and listened. Then he simply closed the phone. After a moment he turned around.

  “He didn’t check the kid in as a patient. No teenage patient fitting the kid’s description was checked in during the last twelve hours either.”

  “And he hasn’t shown up at his residence,” Frankie muttered. “What do you think?”

  “They could be holed up anywhere, like you said,” Scooter muttered. “We might just have to wait.”

  “No one has time to wait,” Frankie emphasized. He looked at Warren. It was more a hateful glare than anything else. He looked like he might order him shot right then. “What do you suggest, big shot?”

  Warren started to shake his head.

  “Suggest something that makes sense and fast. Who would know anything?”

  “Her sister,” Warren instantly replied.

  Scooter turned around to look at him. For a long moment, he simply stared. Warren felt his skin crawl.

  “What?” Warren finally asked.

  “Where is this sister?”

  “Back in Palm Springs. Her kid was the first one who benefitted from Taylor’s blood.”

  Scooter looked at Frankie. “Why didn’t anyone say that before we left?”

  Frankie looked at Warren again.

  “I’m not playing with a full deck because of the damn chemo treatments. I don’t know his excuse.”

  “Turn us around,” Scooter told Tony.

  “She’s not going to want to tell us anything,” Warren warned.

  For a very long moment, no one spoke. Tony pulled off the first exit available. Then Scooter turned back to Warren.

  “No. She’s not going to want to tell us anything,” he said. “But believe me. After I’m finished with her, she’s going to beg us to listen to her tell us what we want to know.”

  Warren felt his throat tighten and his heart cringe in his chest. He had no doubt that this man’s ancestor was the one who convinced Judas to turn on Christ.

  An accident on the freeway put Allan, Demi, and Taylor on the tail end of a crawl.

  “How long is this trip usually?” Allan asked.

  “Four, four and a half depending on traffic,” Demi said.

  “Looks more like it will be about seven hours then.”

  She nodded. She had gotten into the front seat to give Taylor the whole back, and he was dead asleep. Despite his brave facade, the ordeal had exhausted him.

  “It’s going to be late when we get there anyway,” she said. “Probably be better if we arrive in the morning.”

  Allan nodded. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was quite tired himself. The tension and the driving were ticking off his reservoir of energy.

  “Let’s look for a motel.”

  “I know there’s a nice one just up ahead on the left. We’ll take the exit and cross over the freeway,” Demi told him.

  It took them almost a half hour to reach the exit. There was a line of traffic backed up on the off-ramp because of a traffic light.

  “Looks like other people had the same idea.”

  “Accidents can really back up the traffic. I was in one that took more than seven hours to clear,” Demi said. “My husband and I, that is.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “You mean, how lon
g before he died,” she replied.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Fourteen years.”

  “Where did you two meet?”

  Demi smiled and looked forward.

  “I was in beauty school, and he walked in off the street for a discount haircut. I didn’t tell him until afterward that he was my first.”

  “So you cut men’s hair, too?”

  “Oh, sure. I suppose I fell in love with his hair before I did the rest of him.”

  Allan laughed.

  “You’re not married or ever have been?” she asked.

  “No, and no serious romances going.”

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a monk.”

  “Guess not.”

  “I don’t mean to get too personal, but are you…”

  “I’m not gay, nor am I asexual. I’m…shall we say a bit distracted.”

  “I didn’t think it was possible for a man to be so distracted.”

  Allan laughed again. Then he looked at her longer. “Maybe it isn’t,” he said.

  She glanced at him, smiled, and then indicated where the motel was.

  As he suspected, it was nearly full. Others had made a similar decision in light of the traffic jam. There was only one room left with two double beds.

  “Taylor and I can sleep in one. He’s a big boy, but he’s still my baby,” she said.

  “I’m fine with it.”

  They booked the room and didn’t wake up Taylor until they pulled up to the door.

  “Where are we? I dreamed I was in a car going to Vegas,” he said.

  “Very funny. You hungry?” Demi asked him.

  “I wouldn’t mind still having three meals a day.”

  “How about I go get us a couple of pizzas?” Allan suggested. “I saw a place just before the motel.”

  “Fine. Taylor will have a surge of new energy when he smells it, I’m sure.”

  “Sodas?” Allan asked.

  “Juices, water.”

  “Okay.”

  As soon as he settled Demi and Taylor in the motel room, he drove off, wondering what the hell was he doing.

  Where are we going? How is this any sort of solution?

  He debated calling the police from the restaurant and getting Demi and Taylor protection. Despite how calm she now seemed, he sensed she could easily become hysterical. It wouldn’t take much. Besides, she could see it as another sort of betrayal, and whether he would admit it to himself or not, he was making an emotional investment in this woman and her son.

  In fact, he was surprised at how he had put his own motives and objectives far in the background now. Not once during this whole episode and this flight did he think about how he would convince her to approve his sampling more of Taylor’s unique white blood cells. Just a slight suggestion of that could easily send her off in another direction, and he was concerned about it not so much as for what it might mean to the research as for what it might mean to him personally.

  It was a good feeling, which also surprised him. For a while at least, this was like lifting a weight off his shoulders. It was as if some light had broken through and he suddenly was capable of seeing himself as others had been seeing him. It restored his energy and put a new bounce in his steps. He paid for the pizzas and drinks and hurried back to the motel.

  Taylor was in bed watching television. Demi came out of the bathroom, where she had washed off her makeup and loosened her hair. She wore a light pink sleeping shirt that reached the tops of her knees. He stared at her for a moment and then quickly moved to get the pizzas on the table and take out the drinks.

  “How you doing, Taylor?” he asked.

  “I’d rather be in Philadelphia,” he replied.

  Allan laughed. “Do you know who said that and where it’s engraved?”

  “For how much?” Taylor responded.

  “I don’t know. Say, twenty?”

  “For twenty dollars…W.C. Fields and it’s on his tombstone,” Taylor replied.

  Allan laughed and handed him twenty dollars.

  “I could have told you that was lost money,” Demi said, taking out the pizza and fixing Taylor a piece. She handed it to him with a juice drink and then sat at the table to eat with Allan.

  Taylor remained interested in his television program.

  “How long have you been with Mr. Moore?” Allan asked, speaking softly. It was as if he were walking over thin ice.

  “Too long, obviously.” She shrugged. “We had a lot of fun in the beginning. I was attracted to his laid-back, que sera, sera attitude after going through what Taylor and I had gone through. It’s easy to blind yourself or deliberately ignore someone’s flaws when you’re in the state of mind I was in.” She paused. “I guess I sound like someone reaching for excuses.”

  “Not at all. It makes sense.”

  “And,” she said, smiling, “I’m sure you’re familiar with that saying, ‘It’s easier for a woman over 35 to be killed by a terrorist than find a good romantic relationship.’”

  Allan laughed.

  “I never heard that, but don’t go by me. I just found out women were given the right to vote.”

  Demi laughed and then looked at him as if she really was looking at him for the first time. It made him blush, which surprised him even more than it did her.

  “You really never had a serious romantic relationship, Doctor Parker?”

  “Please, call me Allan. I think we’ve been through enough to do away with anything formal. To answer your question, however, I went steady for two days in the ninth grade until she told me she hated to brush her teeth.”

  Demi laughed.

  “Aren’t you the particular one?”

  “No. I guess I’m a devout coward when it comes to relationships, and I rationalize by telling myself it will take me away from my goals and what I hope is my destiny. That’s about all the self-analysis I’m capable of doing.”

  “Maybe it’s enough,” she said.

  They just looked at each other for a long moment. Then she stood.

  “Want any more of this?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Demi cleared off the table and threw the boxes and empty cups in the garbage.

  “This cleaning thing. It’s instinctive,” she said, seeing how Allan was watching her straighten up a motel room.

  He laughed. They both looked at Taylor and saw he had fallen asleep. Gently, Demi took everything away from him and fixed his blanket.

  “We’d better go to sleep, too,” Allan said. He rose and went into the bathroom.

  When he came out, he found Demi had turned off the television and left only his light. He left his briefs on and crawled into his bed. After he turned off his light, some car headlights swept the wall and then it became very quiet. He lay there in the darkness wondering how this was all going to end.

  In the dim light filtering through the curtains, he could see Demi was still awake.

  Surely, he thought, she’s wondering the same thing.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Less than an hour after he had fallen asleep, Allan felt Demi’s hand on his arm and opened his eyes. She was kneeling at the side of his bed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t sleep. I think I made a terrible mistake.”

  She sounded on the verge of tears. He pulled himself into a sitting position against his pillows, and Demi rose to sit on the side of his bed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This flight, running away. If these people are as ruthless as you say, they’ll only come after us, no matter what or where we go.”

  He nodded. “I imagine they will.”

  “Why didn’t you try harder to stop me, to change my mind, Allan?”

  “Well, if you remember, I did suggest you come with me, but I thought if I was adamant you’d think I had only one reason to care. I’d only convince you of that by insisting and insisting.”

  “But that was true though
, wasn’t it? You had only one reason.”

  “In the beginning, it was true,” he admitted. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “I began to see you as I should have seen you from the start, Demi, both of you, as people and not specimens or research objects.”

  She nodded.

  “And then it became even more important Tome that you…”

  “What?”

  “Trusted me. If it meant going along with what you wanted, well, that’s what I would do. Look,” he added, “I’m not good at this sort of thing, so if I sound stupid…”

  “What sort of thing, Allan?”

  He looked at her. In the vague light, she seemed to be even more attractive to him, more of a beautiful fantasy. Her nightshirt rose on her legs, revealing more of her glistening skin. Her breasts seemed to lift and become even firmer, her nipples even more than vaguely outlined.

  “Expressing myself, my feelings,” he replied. “Especially when it comes To my feelings for you. I’m surprised myself at how strong they are, but…”

  “Sometimes, it’s better said in other ways.”

  “Yes, but I’m still afraid that anything I do will be misinterpreted, will be seen as conniving or manipulative and not sincere.”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” she replied.

  He smiled, nodded, and leaned forward. She did too and they kissed, softly at first, parted, but did not pull back. They kissed again. He brought his hands to her upper arms and kept her close. When he leaned back, she leaned with him, keeping her cheeks against his. He kissed her again. She moaned softly and brushed his forehead with her lips. He kissed her neck, and then she pulled back and rose. He was disappointed until he saw her lift the blanket and gently slide in beside him.

  “That felt sincere enough,” she whispered. “I think I trust you.”

  He laughed. “It was sincere.” “I’m scared, Allan,” she said. “Hold me.” He embraced her, and they kissed again. She looked back at Taylor. He was on his side with his back to them.