Stray Cat Blues

by Robert Bucchianeri

  I raised my hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go get it then.”

  I strolled out of Marsh’s office wondering where the hell I was going to go next.

  I turned left at the conference room.

  The main table, a great big gleaming mahogany thing that was rarely used, had nothing at all on its surface.

  I stopped, frowned. Looked back at my captors. “It was here last time I saw it. She was working on it right at this table.”

  Del and Scooter stepped toward me. I danced away. “Wait a minute, guys. It has to be here. No reason it wouldn’t be. It’s probably in one of the other offices. We’ll just have to search them.”

  Del narrowed his gaze on mine. “Whose offices are these anyway?”

  “Marsh’s. The computer whiz works for him.”

  “And where is he now?”

  I shrugged.

  “Let’s go. Right now. We’ve already wasted too much time. You’d better find that computer, and fast, or that bump on your head is going to be the least of your problems,” Del said.

  I moved around him, avoided Scooter’s reach, and headed to the next office.

  It’s too bad that Marsh’s offices weren’t as big as, let’s say, the headquarters for Exxon Mobil. Then I might have been able to stall all night. As it was, there were only eight offices, and despite as much lingering as I felt the situation could bear, we arrived at the final office a mere ten minutes later.

  As we crossed the threshold, Del said, “This is not looking good. Particularly, for you. That computer had better be here or...”

  “Or what, Delly boy?”

  Talk about warming the cockles of your heart, that voice certainly did the trick for me.

  As we all turned to see who the strange speaker was, all hell broke loose.

  Only one shot was fired, by Zack, and that one took out a few ceiling tiles, exploding papery debris all over everybody like it was New Year’s Eve.

  I took out Scooter’s legs immediately after Marsh spoke. A moment later, after the kick to Zack’s midsection that fueled the errant bullet, Del was grunting and pleading beneath a painful headlock. Marsh had kicked Zack’s gun to the corner and was standing on his chest while I had my foot on Scooter’s throat. He gurgled for breath beneath me but, remembering his smacks to my head, for the first few seconds, I showed no mercy and didn’t let up until his face started to turn purple.

  When I did lift my foot, he rolled over and retched onto the hardwood floor.

  Thirty-Two

  “Winston,” I said to Marsh.

  He nodded, and at the same time, reached into Del’s jacket and removed his gun. He handed it to me.

  “Good man,” I responded when he was done.

  “That’s why I employ him.”

  “What do you want to do with them?”

  “Any of these windows open?”

  “Unfortunately, not.”

  “I think their heads might be hard enough to break the glass. At least, it’s worth a try.” With my foot on the back of Scooter’s skull, I fumbled inside his coat and found his pistol.

  “Might take a while to break through the double glaze.”

  “I’ve got time. There are two more outside waiting in a van.”

  “Want me to go get them?”

  “Sure. One’s got a sawed-off shotgun.”

  Marsh nodded, picked up Zack’s gun, and handed it to me. He let go of Del, who dropped out of the headlock and made a big dull thumping sound when his body hit the floor. Marsh left us without another word.

  I stepped back and motioned with a gun in each hand for the boys to gather themselves together in a corner of the room. They gave me dirty, pained looks but obeyed.

  Marsh returned ten minutes later with Vince and Marco.

  Both men looked chastened, although to be honest, Vince had looked that way since I saw him on my boat.

  We zip-tied the boys’ hands behind their backs, marched them into the conference room, and sat them down in chairs on one side of the mahogany table, facing Marsh and me.

  They were a sorry sight, but I didn’t feel sorry for them. I touched my big bump and grimaced before starting. “So tell me why Caballo wants Johnnie’s computer?”

  I had my guesses, but I wanted to be sure.

  I looked at Del, who was the leader of this bunch and, I was sure, the closest to the boss.

  He shook his head. He gave me a look that indicated he’d just as soon bite off my hand as answer my question.

  “You two are really in trouble, but you’re too stupid to realize it. Give us the laptop and let us go, and I’ll put in a good word for you.” I had to give it to Del, he was a true believer in the power and glory of his boss. I wish I had a couple of minions like him at my beck and call.

  I looked at Marsh. “Maybe we’d better do as he says.”

  “It would be prudent, I’m sure.”

  We both turned our eyes back to Del.

  “A good word with Caballo, you mean?”

  It was then that I saw something in his eyes and knew I had it all wrong.

  After we escorted the boys back to their van, freed them from the zip-ties, and bid them adieu without their weapons, I asked Marsh if he’d decided where best to confront Davis Hunter.

  He nodded. We watched the van until its taillights disappeared behind the church, and then I turned and my eyes fell back on the huge screen. The audience was quiet as Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal stared at each other, realizing the truth of what we’d known for the past ninety plus minutes.

  My cell phone jangled me out of the moment, and I reached in my pocket and took it out.

  Alexandra’s soft voice rang in my ear.

  “Honey, what happened? Where are you? I’ve been so worried...”

  Thirty-Three

  A couple of days later, I was wondering what was taking Marsh so long to get back to me with the plans for Davis Hunter, and, especially, our approach to Poe.

  He’d made himself scarce again but assured me he was in the process of scouting and planning. The man had access to people, power, and logistical support that dwarfed any mere mortal’s attempt at subterfuge.

  I was a little worried that Caballo’s men might make another run at us, this time with greater numbers, but thought they’d lick their wounds and bide their time.

  Of course, it depended on how desperate they were to get their hands on Johnnie’s computer. If, as I suspected, it wasn’t Caballo himself after the laptop, then the danger and unpredictability factor was greater.

  In the meantime, all I could do was keep my eyes open and my senses on alert. I was spending a lot of time with Alexandra, who was spending a lot of time with Frankie.

  We’d taken her to Golden Gate Park and the Steinhart Aquarium, which I’d loved as a kid. It had been remodeled and lost some of the dark, subterranean feel—the wow factor tinged with a little danger that had sparked my imagination so many years ago. But it had gained a lot in size and fish. Seeing it again through Frankie’s eyes was a kick. We also took her to the zoo, the latest Pixar movie, and a picnic in Tiburon.

  It felt like we were a family, which made me nervous, despite the fact that I enjoyed myself more than I wanted to admit.

  On Friday night, Frankie was having dinner and then binge-watching Arrow on the Sweet and Sour with Meiying and Dao while Alexandra and I were alone in her cozy place in Pacific Heights.

  We were sitting on the couch in the living room, thigh to thigh, drinking Cabernet and waiting for a pizza to be delivered. Alexandra was obsessing about the difficulties with her global slave trade investigation. She’d interviewed several women and young girls who’d been enmeshed in sexual slavery before managing to escape or being freed by activists in Thailand or Bosnia. There was a look of anguish on her face as she described the degradations that the women, some of them as young as nine years old, had suffered.

  “So we have a guy at the magazine combing the Dark Web for us...” She paused, gnawi
ng at a fingernail, shaking her head. “Max, you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff on there. And the perverts and creeps and sadists who prowl those hidden alleys. Pedophiles and assassins and terrorists and drug runners all seem to play with impunity there.”

  Using TOR’s network and its virtual tunnels, Marsh had once given me a brief tour and explanation of the Dark Web, which pretty much confirmed what Alexandra was saying, although there were also more innocent pastimes going on in that hidden realm.

  “Problem is, Jasper—that’s the Independent’s hacker—while he’s nibbled around the edges of the ring, hasn’t been able to penetrate it to any great extent. The contacts he’s met online are wary, and there are layers of protective walls around the information we need. There seems to be a hub right here in San Francisco, but we haven’t been able to penetrate that link at all.

  “Maybe I could convince Marsh to let Portia take a look at it.”

  “You said she’s really good, right? So’s Jasper but...I’m ready to let someone else have a crack at it.”

  Marsh maintained that there weren’t more than a dozen hackers in the world with Portia’s skills, and I’d seen nothing to doubt that.

  “I’ll talk to Harold and see if he’s willing to pay for outside help, and then you can go to Portia.” Alexandra took a sip of wine, resting the glass against her lips, staring at the fireplace mantle.

  “If he says no, she might do it for free, although that’s against Marsh’s religion. She’s pretty fierce when it comes to women’s issues, and Marsh has been known to sin occasionally.”

  The doorbell rang. I could already smell the anchovies and garlic and banana peppers covering the best damn crust in the city courtesy of Palio’s Pizzeria.

  Later that night, I was sound asleep, naked, with the equally naked Alexandra Stone snoozing against my chest, when the phone rang.

  Still in my birthday suit, I stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed the offending receiver.

  “We’re all set. Get dressed and meet me outside, pronto. Rock ’n roll tonight.”

  The phone clicked off. I hadn’t said a word or acknowledged him in any way. Maybe he could tell it was me by the sound of my breathing?

  I peeked through the living room blinds, and sure enough, Marsh was parked in front of the house in a sleek, black BMW, the engine purring like a cat.

  I went back to the bedroom and informed my groggy girl that I had to go with Marsh but told her to go back to sleep and I’d call her in the morning.

  She groaned and whispered, “Okay, sweetie. Be careful.” She kissed my lips.

  Reluctantly, I pulled away from her, got un-naked, and slipped quietly out the door to join my crazy ass friend.

  Thirty-Four

  As we drove, Marsh explained his urgency.

  “We can kill two birds with one stone for one night only.”

  He was dressed in his version of combat fatigues—black from head to toe. He had a matching uniform for me, along with a bagful of tricks in a satchel resting on the back seat, including two .22 caliber Berettas.

  He knew I didn’t like guns and only employed them in emergencies, but he assured me this was exactly that, if I considered imminent death an emergency.

  He’d trained me a couple years back, and I practiced on his personal shooting range fairly regularly. I was comfortable shooting, if not carrying the damn things.

  “The birds you mean are Davis and Poe?”

  He nodded and shifted into fourth gear as we hit the 101 highway heading south.

  “They’re together?” I asked, having a hard time believing that might be true and that Marsh had divined the meeting in advance.

  “Very hush hush, of course. The President of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors can’t be seen consorting with a guy like Poe, despite the fact he brings in more tax revenues than any other major San Francisco corporation. Most citizens probably figure Hunter and Poe know each other, but neither of them wants to be seen being chummy on the front page of the Examiner.”

  “How’d you find out about this meeting?”

  “Pretty easy, really, after you gave me his private cell phone number. Portia had no trouble hacking into it and, for now, we have a live feed. I think you panicked Hunter with your surprise visit. It still took him a couple of days to get through to Poe, but when he did, he said some awfully disparaging things about you.”

  “You can’t please all the people all—”

  “He’s afraid that you’ve got a video or some other kind of evidence about his kinky preferences and his involvement with Johnnie, and that you might use it to ruin him. Anyway, listen to this.”

  Marsh clicked on a file with a music symbol, and a man’s agitated voice trembled out...

  “...you said if I cooperated that nothing would ever come out. Well, if this jerkoff Plank goes to the press and has evidence of me and Johnnie, all hell’s going to break loose. And believe me, Poe, I’m not going down alone. You introduced me to her for chrissakes. My conduct and votes on the board are going to be examined. The approvals we pushed through for you...look, I’m not—

  “Be very careful, Hunter.”

  The voice was foreboding and unmistakably Poe.

  “Don’t threaten me. This is going to ruin my career and marriage. You have to do something. Man like you should be able to take care of this two-bit detective.”

  “Two-bit,” I said.

  Marsh clicked off the recording. “I don’t think that comment is the most important one on the tape.”

  “Easy for you to say. What if I called you a two-bit hustler or a two-bit trader or a two-bit builder or...”

  Marsh rolled his eyes and clicked on the audio again.

  “Did he say he had evidence and that he was going to use it?” Poe asked in an even tone.

  A woman’s sultry voice called out Hunter’s name, and he told her he’d be out in a minute. The sound of papers shuffling and then he continued.

  “Not exactly. He said he had evidence. He knew things. Things he could learn only by a hidden camera or if Johnnie talked to him directly, which is unlikely. He threatened to expose me on the Internet or to the cops, but then he indicated that as long as I was cooperative in his attempts to find Johnnie, he’d hold off.”

  “So nothing to worry about for the moment.”

  “That’s not good enough. I can’t wait for the the other shoe to drop. I’m President of the Board. You promised to protect me and I expect you to keep your word. This will hurt you too...I mean it...”

  His pitiful voice trailed off. It sounded like he might start sobbing.

  There was a long silence and then Poe spoke.

  “All right. Come and see me tonight. The storage building, out near the army barracks. You’ve been there. Meet me at 12:30 a.m.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have any more time to talk right now. We need to hash things out between us, and face to face is best. Then we can decide what to do with this detective bothering you. And let’s just make sure we’re both on the same page, comfortable with each other, moving forward.”

  “But—”

  “Tonight, Hunter.”

  Poe hung up, and the recording ended.

  “Well, how about that,” I marveled.

  “A surprising turn of events,” Marsh said.

  “That Poe would talk on a cell phone and allow Hunter to say what he said?”

  “Yes. He’s too smart for that. Either he’s getting fat and sloppy with his success, or something else is going on.”

  “So Poe played matchmaker for Hunter and Johnnie. Do you think he may have used that to leverage favorable actions and votes to get his casino approvals?”

  “If I had a million dollars to spare, I’d wager a yes,” I said.

  “If I were Davis, I’d be very careful this evening.”

  “I don’t think Poe would risk murdering a politician so prominent, not with the possible trails leading back to him.”

  “You ne
ver know. At heart, Poe is a dangerous jackal. His unpredictability is part and parcel of his success. Maybe he intends to off Davis and figures he’ll have his cell phone with him so he can destroy that, and any potential evidence, at the same time.”

  “Seems too risky.”

  “For you, yes. For a man like Poe who, perhaps, is feeling pretty invulnerable, it might just be another day at the office.”

  We were on 80 now, heading across the Bay Bridge toward Treasure Island.

  There was electricity in the air. I saw a flash of lightening in the distance over the east bay. Ten seconds later, the boom of thunder reached our ears. A few seconds later, raindrops began streaking the windshield.

  It was 11:55 p.m. The plan was to arrive shortly after the meeting was scheduled to begin, giving the boys time to exchange niceties and settle in comfortably.

  As we approached the Treasure Island exit off the bridge, Marsh explained his hastily drawn up approach, which included a great deal of improvisation.

  Nothing too unusual. Kept things exciting.

  Thirty-Five

  The building that Poe designated for the meeting was a couple of blocks behind the Island’s Pier 1 and the Sailing Center, down an unpaved road right next to some old Army barracks.

  Marsh had already used Google Maps to check the area out, and his plan was to approach the industrial building from behind the barracks where we left his car. He fished zip-ties, a small but powerful flashlight, some rope, a lock gun, and extra .22 rounds and tucked them into a fanny pack.

  He handed me a holster and gun, and I clasped it together over my shoulder. He tossed me sleek synthetic gloves and put on a pair of his own.