THE MAN WHO HUNTED HIMSELF

by Lex Lander

  ‘Did you remove it? I’d like to see it.’

  ‘No, I left it where it was. I didn’t want them to realize I was on to them.’

  ‘What are they trying to achieve, do you think?’

  She flopped back among the cushions, nursing her almost empty glass.

  ‘The only thing I can think is they suspect it might be you who killed Jeff, and they’re looking for proof.’

  A sobering prospect. I hoped she was wrong.

  ‘They would have no reason to think that,’ I said.

  ‘Who knows? They have no shortage of sources of information. Anyhow, that’s why I asked you to contact me by cell phone.’

  She jumped up and began to pace. I was content to watch her, observe the subtle swivel of her hips and her erect carriage.

  ‘What shall we do?’ she said, in a hands-wringing voice. ‘You should leave Vegas, go back home. It’s not safe for you here.’

  ‘You’re a trier, aren’t you? I will go back, but I’m not quite ready yet.’

  ‘Why not?’ She about turned, like a sentry reaching the end of his march.

  ‘Because ... you need me.’

  ‘I need you? How do you arrive at that conclusion?’

  ‘Sit down, Maura.’ I smiled as I said it, to underscore my good intentions. She hesitated, went to the bar to refresh her glass, and finally complied, sitting stiffly with her knees together, her expression grave.

  ‘My intuition, and hints you’ve dropped from time to time, tell me you’re in some sort of trouble, and it’s connected with the Heider family. Am I right?’

  A lot of internal conflict ensued before her resigned nod.

  ‘Yes,’ she said in a subdued voice.

  ‘Tell me.’

  She pursed her lips and after a long pause said, ‘I will tell you, I promise. But not yet, not tonight. What I will do is show you. It’ll give you a better understanding of what’s at stake for me.’

  ‘Fine by me. When?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Meet me at the airport at ten.’

  ‘We’re flying?’

  When she giggled, like now, she could have been a teenager.

  ‘I’m flying, you’re passengering.’

  ‘You mean you’re a qualified pilot? You have access to a plane?’

  ‘Yes and yes. Flying runs in the family. Before my father became an executive with TWA, he was one of their pilots. Before that a fighter pilot. He had the flying bug and implanted it in me.’

  ‘But you’re afraid of heights, you said.’

  ‘There are different kinds of heights. When I’m flying my plane I’m not an earthbound creature any more – I’m a bird!’

  After absorbing this latest revelation, I asked her where we were bound.

  ‘To a place called Mono Lake, just across the California state line, about two hundred miles from here. All will be revealed when we get there.’

  The mystery she was making of this jaunt had me wondering if it were a trap. That maybe she had been leading me on all along and was really in cahoots with the Heiders. It made no sense though. She could have given me away at our first meeting or, if she was still unsure at that point, after my visit to the house when I confirmed it. Why drag it out, then set up some elaborate scheme involving a flight to pastures unknown?

  ‘Don’t worry.’ She reached out to me across the table, though she was too far away to make contact. ‘It’s not a set up, really it’s not. Just trust me, James. If I had intended to sell you out, I would’ve done it already.’

  Suddenly I was sick of lying and pretence and mistrust. Sick of false identities, never being able to drop my guard or act naturally. I wanted to trust someone, really trust them. Here and now. Maura was here and now.

  ‘My name’s not James,’ I said on an impulse. ‘It’s ... it’s Andrew.’

  Andrew was my father’s version of André, so was as close as to reality as made no difference. My survival instincts held me back from revealing my true given name, much as I detested the usual shortened version of Andrew – Andy. As for my last name, it was still too soon to go the whole identity hog. I wasn’t that besotted. Maybe I never would be.

  She took the name change in her stride.

  ‘Okay. Okay ... Andrew. Should I call you Andy, or maybe Drew is better.’

  ‘My sister calls me Drew.’

  ‘That’s a good enough testimonial for me. Let’s make it Drew – if that’s all right with you.’ She cocked her head on one side, regarded me with a quizzical air. ‘Knowing the line of business you’re in I would’ve been surprised if you’d used your real name, when you’re on a ... a job. I didn’t go much for James anyway. A bit stuffy. Just one thing – why have you decided to come clean about it? I mean, I do appreciate it. But why?’

  ‘I was tired of acting a part with you. Being a phony.’

  ‘Oh.’ She didn’t seem to know how to react. ‘I suppose I should take that as a massive compliment. You make me feel sort of ... important.’

  To admit outright that she might be on the cusp of becoming important to me was a declaration I also didn’t feel ready to make. Too many issues remained to be resolved, not the least of which was her relationship with the Heiders. Mine with the Tosis also threatened to go from bad to worse. As for the police ... The longer I hung around in Sin City, and the more I hung out with Maura Beck, the more perilous my situation would become.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘I’m attending a lawyers’ convention with Nick and I’m late already.’

  Although I would have liked to stick around and take our unusual liaison to the next level, I accepted her dismissal with a good grace. Better anyhow, to wait until tomorrow, after the flight, when all would apparently be revealed.

  In a repeat of my previous visit, she rushed off to change, having offered to run me back to the hotel. She reappeared after a suitable period, in evening dress: a sheer black gown that clung everywhere it should and some places it shouldn’t. I experienced a sudden spurt of jealousy that she should be going out where other men would ogle her, without me by her side. The sensation passed in a flash. It was completely irrational and left me feeling foolish.

  ‘Shall we go?’ she said, with a brittle gaiety that made me feel sorry for her. She was trying to exude normality in the midst of abnormality. She shrugged into a fur jacket that had the look of silver fox.

  She noticed my appraisal. ‘It’s fake,’ she said, adding, ‘In case you’re into animal rights.’

  As a precaution against spies, I climbed into the passenger seat of the Maserati while it was still in the garage, and sank below the window level as she gunned the engine. The door swung up and over automatically, and we moved forward. Down the short driveway to the gates that slid back, activated by the headlight beams.

  ‘They’re not watching the house,’ I said, as we swept around the bend and coasted down the incline past the fat cat mini-mansions on either side. ‘But they may still be waiting down the road.’

  ‘Keep your head down then.’

  She slowed for what I assumed was the intersection that led to the only exit road off the estate.

  ‘There’s a car parked on Trophy Hills, just past the traffic island,’ she said, sounding nervous. We were no longer moving. ‘Can’t tell if it’s occupied. Do you think it’s the police?’

  ‘Drive past them. Don’t try to lose them. Just drop me off in town, anywhere will do.’

  ‘I’m going to carry on around Greensboro to see if they come after us. Once we hit the boulevard, I won’t be able to tell one car from another.’

  ‘It won’t make any difference. Even if you know, what are you going to do?’

  We were on the move again, travelling on a sweeping curve; I could tell from the way the streetlights panned across the windshield.

  ‘He’s coming after us,’ Maura squeaked. ‘He’s getting closer!’

  ‘Let him come,’ I snapped. ‘Don’t try to race him.’

 
A left turn, then another curve, then a sharp right turn, barely slowing, the Maserati heeling a little.

  The glare of headlights was flooding the car’s interior.

  ‘He’s right behind,’ Maura sounded panicky. ‘No, he’s going to pass me!’

  ‘What the fuck!’ This was no time to be skulking on the floor. I hauled myself back into the seat to see a dark SUV overtake us. As it pulled clear, it veered sharply to the right, trapping the Maserati and forcing Maura to brake hard and pull onto the verge. Only her fast reflexes saved us from a collision.

  The doors of the SUV opened and two men leapt out on our side. Two more came rushing around the back of the vehicle. Guns were brandished, including a short-barrelled shotgun.

  I was not armed. The course of events was not mine to dictate. So I just sat there. So did Maura, though in her case it was more likely to be terror that held her immobile.

  ‘Don’t try to reverse out of it,’ I cautioned. ‘They mean business.’

  For now, meek cooperation was the only option that made sense.

  A face came up to the window on Maura’s side, and peered in. Cesare Tosi was back in my life. I swore under my breath. He had a new gun to replace the Ruger – a Colt Python, from the look of the ramp sight and muzzle brake. No silencer.

  The doors on the Maserati locked automatically when the car was in motion and remained locked until the engine was switched off. Cesare tugged at Maura’s door twice, then aimed his gun at the glass.

  ‘Open up!’ It sounded faint, but only because of the soundproofing.

  Maura turned to me. ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘Lower the window. If he shoots through the glass, we’ll get sprayed with it.’

  The window slid down.

  ‘Out, both of you,’ Cesare ordered, backed up by the shotgun. It was wielded by a guy with the build of a whippet.

  ‘You want money?’ Maura said.

  ‘They don’t want money,’ I said. ‘They want me.’

  Cesare thrust his gun at me. ‘Yeah, you and that fucking note you made Silvano write.’

  As it happened, the note was in my room safe, so he was out of luck. The note was my insurance.

  Cesare was so over confident, not to mention amateurish, that he wasn’t paying Maura any attention at all. After all, she was only a woman. While he was distracted, Maura reached down into the space between her seat and mine and came up with a shiny automatic. When she racked the slide and shoved it under his nose in a single slick movement, he ripped off a startled curse and belatedly brought his gun to bear on her.

  At that very moment, perhaps in fear for her life, or both our lives, she shot him in the head.

  In the confined space of the car the blast was terrific. Her automatic was at the most a .32. Small calibre or not, at point blank range it was more than adequate. It drilled a hole dead centre of his forehead, enough to stop all motor function in Cesare’s body. His eyes rolled up, the gun slid from his hand into Maura’s lap, and he keeled over backwards in graceful slow motion. Even before he hit the asphalt, the Whippet went off like a real whippet out of its trap, back to the SUV.

  ‘Hey, what’s going on there?’ came a cry from the nearest villa.

  The local populace was beginning to stir.

  One of the other two gorillas loosed off a shot as a deterrent, before he and his companion piled into the SUV. Wheels spun as it reversed. Away it went, careering down the road, veering all over the place.

  It was over. Maybe a minute had passed since we were forced off the road. The smell of cordite enveloped us. Maura was sitting frozen in her seat, the automatic still pointing, Cesare’s pistol still in her lap. I relieved her of both of them, inserting my finger through the trigger guards to avoid leaving prints. Another car came up and halted alongside. A man emerged from it, gun at the ready. His other hand flapped a police badge in a wallet at us.

  ‘Sergeant Dressler, Las Vegas Police,’ he announced. ‘Just nobody move.’

  It was a change from Gratrix, but my guess was that Dressler was a member of the surveillance team. A second cop joined him, also brandishing a firearm and looking tough.

  They ordered us out of the car. I let the two guns slide from my lap to the floor and joined Maura. She was shivering, shock or cold or both.

  You didn’t need to be a Philo Vance to figure out what had taken place, even if they hadn’t actually witnessed it. They made us raise our arms and spread our legs while they frisked us. They tried to be delicate where Maura was concerned, but in that dress anything concealed would have shown through. The cuffs went on. Only then did the two cops put their guns away. By now, rubberneckers were gathering. The second cop tried waving them away, but it didn’t have much effect.

  I felt somebody should say something.

  ‘It was self defence, plain and simple. His gun fell in the car, but it’ll be covered with his prints.’

  ‘Don’t try to do my job,’ Dressler growled. ‘Who shot this guy?’

  ‘Me.’ Maura and I spoke as one.

  She glared at me. ‘Me,’ she said again. ‘Take no notice of my friend. He’s just trying to protect me.’

  I said nothing.

  The second cop was calling for back-up.

  ‘You know him?’ Dressler said, nudging Cesare’s corpse with the immaculate toe of his shoe.

  ‘No,’ Maura said.

  ‘No,’ I said, after only a nanosecond of hesitation.

  Dressler glared at me. ‘Is that no, or no maybe?’

  ‘I may have seen him before, I’m just not sure.’

  He grunted but didn’t make an issue of it. My impulse decision to deny I knew Cesare was a calculated gamble that the police wouldn’t be able to connect us. Had I admitted to knowing him, all sorts of cans of worms would be opened.

  ‘Sorry about your convention,’ I said to Maura.

  She gave me a wan smile. ‘No need to be. They’re always humdrum.’

  ‘Well, what happens next won’t be humdrum, but it won’t be much fun either. Just don’t worry. You’re in the clear.’

  She was shivering steadily now, mostly from the cold. I asked Dressler to get her coat. He grumbled but fetched it anyway, as well as her clutch bag. He shoved us towards the unmarked police car and helped us into the back seat. My second session in the back seat of a police vehicle in two days.

  ‘It hasn’t quite sunk in yet,’ she said as Dressler closed the door and left us alone. ‘Did I really just kill a man?’

  ‘A sort of a man. Take it easy, Maura, you had no choice.’

  We fell silent for a while, then I said, ‘He was going to kill me at least.’

  ‘If you’re right, then I’m glad I shot him. It doesn’t make it any easier to come to terms with though.’

  ‘Thinking practical, do you have a permit for the gun?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Carl organized it all after Jeff ... died.’

  An ambulance came bustling up, lights flashing. A regular patrol car wasn’t far behind, more lights flashing. Forensics, I guessed. Nobody bothered us. We didn’t talk much, just desultory stuff. She didn’t ask about Cesare. I didn’t tell her.

  In due course Dressler and his partner returned to the car and we drove away from the scene. Next stop, police headquarters, downtown Las Vegas.

  FOURTEEN

  A two-storey clean modern building, with LAS VEGAS METROPOLITAN POLICE DEPARTMENT in raised lettering up high on a blank section of wall, and little shrubs tastefully planted about the concourse. The obligatory stars and stripes dangled from a pole before the main entrance.

  They didn’t book us. I hadn’t expected them to, but it was a relief just the same. As of yet, we were material witnesses. The outcome of the two separate interviews that were about to take place would determine whether we walked away or spent an uncomfortable night in a holding cell.

  It was Maura I felt sorry for. This was my mess, it should have been my shooting. Or at any rate I should have let Cesare take Silvano’s n
ote before the situation deteriorated. She was bearing up well, which didn’t mean she wasn’t traumatized.

  They hustled me off to an interview room. The cuffs were removed, I was offered coffee. It was tasteless, but I appreciated the humane gesture. Then they let me sweat it out on my own for a while. The room was white-painted everywhere except the floor which was tiled. My chair was moulded plastic, as were the two chairs provided for the interviewers. No discrimination then. The table was steel framed and bolted to the floor. It wasn’t going anyplace in a hurry. The ceiling light was stark and made the skin of my hands look anaemic. A mirror filled the greater part of the wall to my left. Two-way, naturally.

  By my watch it was 11.11 precisely when I next saw a human being. More accurately, a pair of them: Gratrix and Rozon. They were getting their wish to see me on the wrong side of an interview table after all.

  ‘Well, well,’ Gratrix said, unable to suppress a smirk. Rozon just looked sour.

  ‘We meet again,’ I said.

  They seated themselves and contemplated me, Gratrix with scarcely veiled amusement, Rozon with hostility. Maybe she was like that with all men.

  ‘I’m innocent,’ I said.

  Gratrix did an eye roll at the ceiling.

  ‘Here we go again. Just stop trying to be funny, will you, fella? We’re not here to play games, nor are we here to frame you for murder. All we want are the facts, then, if it all checks out, you can go. Preferably to the airport, but that’s up to you.’

  ‘If it was left to me it wouldn’t be,’ Rozon said.

  I didn’t react. No good comes of getting nasty with cops.

  Gratrix had brought a recorder. He set it up and placed it midway between us, then intoned the date, time, his name and rank, and my name, and the details of the incident.

  ‘Now, start talking. Just give us your version of what happened.’

  What I gave him was the truth, but not quite the whole truth. I omitted Cesare’s demand that I hand over the note. It was a precarious omission. Maura might well remember it and include it in her version of events.