Indigo Slam: An Elvis Cole Novel

by Robert Crais

  We glided silently over the parking lot, me describing Markov and Dobcek and Clark and Charles to the cops. Hendricks told them that our first goal was to find Clark, and remove him from the park before he stumbled into the Russians. After that, we would locate Markov and the boy, but he didn’t want any move to be made against them until they had exited the park. When he said that part Bates looked relieved. Hendricks said, “We’ll hang back and watch them until they’re in a safe place, then we can neutralize them with no danger to the boy.” Neutralize. There’s a good word.

  A small army of park security officers with hand radios met us at the Tomorrowland monorail station, and nobody looked like Mouseketeers. They looked like hard-core professional men and woman who would be more than happy to quell a small rebellion. Hendricks went through it again for them, and I once more described Markov and Charles and Clark. The park security people didn’t want me or Pike involved, but we were the only ones besides Jasper who had actually seen the people we were looking for. Hendricks said, “Just give ’em the radios, for chrissakes. They’re for real.”

  So they gave us little Handie-Talkies even though they weren’t happy about it, and told us to take no action if we spotted Markov. They said hang back and call. I said, “Fine.”

  When Bates found out we had guns, he got red in the face and demanded we hand them over.

  Pike said, “Screw that.”

  Jasper said, “Look, it’s private property and they’re being damned cooperative. We don’t want another goddamned war.”

  Hendricks rolled his eyes, sighed, and looked at me. “Please give ’em your guns and let’s get this show on the road.”

  Pike looked at me and I shrugged. I gave them the Dan Wesson and Pike gave them the Python. The security guy looked mollified, but not a whole lot. I guess he was thinking about lawsuits.

  They gave us the radios, told us to check in, and then Pike and I went down the escalator and into the park. The security people broke into teams, and they moved out also, everyone going in a different direction.

  We were walking past a cotton candy cart when Pike said, “Over here,” and moved behind the cart like he was going to tie his shoe. He took a little Sig .380 from his left ankle and palmed it to me.

  I smiled. “What about you?”

  “I’ve got something for me.” Always prepared.

  We worked our way up past the Submarine grotto toward Matterhorn Mountain, doing our best to search the twenty or thirty thousand people we passed, with the grim and depressing awareness that we couldn’t see everything and everyone, and that we might’ve passed Markov and Charles and Clark a dozen times without seeing them. Maybe they were in a rest room. Maybe they were standing in line for a hot dog or riding one of the submarines.

  We split up at the Matterhorn, Pike circling to the left and me to the right, but we met again on the other side without having seen them. Pike said, “The housekeeper said the mountain.”

  “Yeah, but maybe they already took the ride, or they’re on it. Maybe they’re going to do something else and ride the mountain later.” Maybe a million things.

  Pike’s dark glasses were empty.

  I said, “You stay with the mountain, I’ll follow the flow to Fantasy Castle. I’ll go as far as the bridge, then circle back.”

  Pike disappeared into the crowd as I continued along the walk. I moved past a pretty young woman selling frozen bananas, then between a small group of British sailors when Markov, Charles, and a hard-looking guy with leathery skin stepped out from behind a Kodak film kiosk and turned away from me. The hard-looking guy had a hand on Charles’s shoulder. Charles was wearing a Mickey Mouse hat, but he didn’t look happy about it. Markov was eating an ice-cream cone and wearing a set of Mickey Mouse ears, also. His name had been embroidered on the back of the cap in red. Andrei. I guess it’s a magic kingdom even for mobsters from Seattle.

  I stepped behind an overweight couple and keyed the Handie-Talkie. “It’s Cole. I’ve got ’em.”

  Hendricks’s voice came back. “Where?”

  I was telling him when Dobcek pushed through a tour group of elderly people from Florida, shouted something in Russian, then shot at me three times fast.

  Around me, forty thousand people jerked as if hit by an electric current.

  The shots went high and wide into a monorail support, and then Dobcek was running toward Markov. Markov dropped to the ground at the shots, but now he was up, grabbing for the boy as he listened to Dobcek. Markov pulled the boy close, using him for a shield as he scuttled backward through the panicked crowd and I gave Hendricks our location. Hendricks said, “Stay the hell away from them.”

  “Just get your people over here, Hendricks, but tell them to come in soft. Markov’s using the boy as a shield.”

  They ran toward Fantasyland, and I followed them, giving Hendricks a play-by-play, and trying to keep Markov in sight without getting too close. When they crossed the bridge into Fantasy Castle, I lost them. I told Hendricks, and ran faster, pumping across the bridge into the castle, and there was Markov and Charles, Markov’s arm locked around Charles’s neck, a small black pistol in his free hand, standing by Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride like they were waiting for me. Dobcek was maybe ten yards behind him, but I couldn’t see the leathery guy. Markov said, “You lying prick. You tried to set me up.”

  I wanted to stall him. I wanted the security people and cops to get here and cut him off and clear the crowds. “Let him go, Andrei. The park’s tied up. You can’t get out.”

  Markov said, “You be surprised.” That’s when the leathery guy stepped out from behind a juice bar cart, put his gun into my back, and said, “Kiss your ass goodbye.”

  When he said it, Clark Hewitt lurched past the line waiting to board Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, and shouted, “You let him go!”

  No one was expecting Clark.

  Markov jerked sideways and so did Dobcek, and when they moved I spun into the leathery guy’s gun side, forcing his gun away and bringing the little Sig up into his ribs. I pulled the trigger one time and its pop sounded hollow and faraway. A deep, larger bam sounded in almost the same instant, and Andrei Markov was slammed down onto the ground, the crowd of people in the small place suddenly surging in a panic, unsure where to go, moving in every direction like flakes in a human blizzard.

  Joe Pike was standing above us on the castle’s parapet with a foot-long stockless shotgun. Dobcek fired five fast shots—powpowpowpowpow—to drive Pike down, then ran to Markov. I rode Charles and Clark to the ground, yelling for them to stay down. I thought Pike would shoot again, but he didn’t.

  I listened to my heart beat, and I took careful breaths, and felt the sobbing father and son beneath me as the herd of people ran around and over us with all the thought and caring of Cape buffalo. All the while I was on them, Clark said, “We got you, Charlie. We got you.” Over and over. I had never thought of Charles as a Charlie before.

  I looked around until I spotted Pike, still high overhead on the parapet like some kind of avenging angel. I mouthed, “Markov?”

  Pike shook his head.

  Markov and Dobcek were gone.

  36

  Hendricks and Jasper came running up, and the Orange County cops set about securing the area. Hendricks said, “Is everyone okay?”

  Clark nodded. Charles made little breathy sounds, and squirmed around in his father’s lap to see the leathery man. “Is that guy dead?”

  “They’re okay, Hendricks. Markov’s hit.”

  Hendricks pumped his fist once and made a wide grin. “Then we got the bastard.”

  Jasper took out a cell phone. “How bad?”

  Pike said, “Took a load of number four high in the right shoulder. Here.” Pike touched his shoulder to show them.

  Jasper punched a number into his cell phone. “Okay. Which way they go?”

  Pike told him, and Jasper waved over Bates. While Bates was on his way, Jasper said, “I gotta be in on this, Cole, but I wanted to thank yo
u.” He put out his hand, and helped me up. “You did okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Where you gonna be? I wanna give you a call later, talk a little more.”

  I gave him the number at the safe house, then he and Bates trotted away, Jasper talking into the phone as Bates deployed his security people. The clock was ticking, and it wouldn’t be long before Markov was had.

  Hendricks was frowning at me and Pike. “I thought we took your guns.”

  Neither of us answered.

  Hendricks shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess it worked out.”

  I took Hendricks aside. “You understand the situation from Marsha Fields?”

  Hendricks nodded. “We’re going to need to talk to the father to make the kidnap case. We’ll need the boy, too.”

  “I know that.”

  He looked past me at Clark and Charles. They were still on the ground, Charles sitting in Clark’s lap, Clark holding on tight. Clark looked shaken and scared, but Charles didn’t. He was flipping off the dead man, and making faces at the body. “Hang around a little while longer till we get this wrapped up. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Sure.”

  “You can wait at the hotel, if you want. Get the kid something to eat.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll get back there soon as we find this clown.”

  Two more FBI agents, another half dozen Orange County deputies, and the representative from the Secret Service arrived. Everyone was smiling and patting one another on the back because they figured Markov was in the bag. Only so many ways out, they kept saying, and all points of egress were covered.

  One of the cops took us back to the hotel, but Charles didn’t like it much. He said, “I wanna go on Space Mountain. I wanna ride the submarines. I wanna climb the Matterhorn.”

  Some things don’t change.

  I called Teri from the hotel lobby and told her that we had Charles and that everything was fine. Teri passed word to Winona, and they both shrieked and clapped their hands. It made me smile.

  We had hamburgers at the hotel café, then hung around the lobby and the monorail station for another two hours, but when Hendricks finally showed up they still hadn’t found Markov or Dobcek. Pike said, “You want me to come back in and find them?”

  Hendricks scowled. “I think we can manage, but thanks.”

  Pike shrugged.

  I said, “I want to get these people home, Hendricks. You can talk to them later and arrange the statements.”

  Hendricks said, “Okay,” but you could tell he didn’t like it.

  Charles coughed. “A-hole.”

  Hendricks glared at him, then stalked away shaking his head.

  Pike took us back to the warehouse for my car. The FBI and Long Beach cops were still standing around the place, but Dak and his people were gone, and so were the bodies. The big truck door was open, revealing the litho press and the computer and platemaker, but no one seemed to be paying attention. Marsha Fields was there, as was a representative of the U.S. Attorney’s Office, both of them talking to a couple of Long Beach PD detective-supervisors. When Marsha Fields saw me, she came over, introduced herself to Clark and Charles, then smiled at Joe. “Hi, Joe.”

  Pike’s mouth twitched. I guess they knew each other, all right.

  She smiled at him a little longer, then put the smile on Charles. “You’re a good-looking little devil.”

  Charles turned a nice plum red.

  She said, “Mr. Hewitt, we’re very anxious to speak with you.”

  Clark was still in the Jeep. Too tired to get out. “Of course. Anytime you want.”

  I took Marsha Fields aside and said, “So where do we stand with this?”

  She watched three Long Beach cops laugh about something at the far end of the parking lot. Nothing had gone as we had planned. Markov hadn’t been arrested as a counterfeiter, and instead we’d managed to shoot up both Long Beach and Disneyland. A small army of cops had seen the printing equipment, and each and every one of them knew what it was. The bodies had to be explained, and I still wanted Clark to get his money, and that meant he still had to print for Dak. I told her what I was thinking.

  Marsha watched the cops laughing, and nodded. “We made the deal in good faith, and so did you. We’ll still want Clark’s testimony on the kidnapping count.” She looked back at me. “A deal’s a deal. Just have Clark get this finished, and tell whoever is behind this operation that if they break the law again, I’ll make them my hobby. Are we clear on that?”

  “Clear.” I offered my hand, and she took it. I gave her the safe house number, and she said that she would call as soon as she heard anything. I thanked her.

  Marsha Fields took three steps away, then stopped, looked back, and raised an eyebrow. “Dong?”

  I spread my hands. I wondered how she knew.

  When I rejoined Pike and Clark, and told them that we were free to go, Charles said he wanted to ride home with me. He liked riding in the Corvette with the top down, he said. He thought it was cool. It took an hour and thirty-five minutes to drive up to Studio City, and Charles talked constantly about Marsha Fields, and never once mentioned Markov. I didn’t mind. He seemed fine, and I guess he had fallen in love.

  We arrived at the safe house maybe a dozen minutes after Joe and Clark. Charles was disappointed. He said, “What a gyp! They beat us.”

  This kid is something, isn’t he?

  When we went in, Teri and Winona scooped up Charles in a big hug, everyone crying, but this time they were happy tears. I got hugs, too, and then I asked Pike if Hendricks had called. He hadn’t, and that worried me. If Markov and Dobcek slipped through their net, we were back where we started. I didn’t think they had, but you never know. I went up to the office and phoned Dak. He wasn’t happy to hear from me, but at least he was cordial. He said, “The boy is all right?”

  “Yes. And so is Clark. I spoke with Marsha Fields about this, and the deal still stands.”

  “The police have been asking questions.”

  “Those questions will go away. The paper will not be investigated about the printing equipment found on its premises, nor will you.”

  Dak said, “How will we explain the bodies?”

  “It’s already been explained. Employees of the Journal discovered a robbery in progress and the bad guys drew guns. Your employees acted in self-defense.”

  Dak didn’t say anything for a moment. “She can do this?”

  “It’s the government, Dak. She can do anything.”

  Nguyen Dak said, “You’re a man of your word, Mr. Cole. I have much respect for that.”

  “Not me, Dak. Her.”

  I told him that Clark would call tomorrow and arrange for the printing, then I hung up, and stared at the phone in the quiet of the room. I could hear the others down below, but up here was peaceful and the peace was soothing. I didn’t feel particularly noble, and I didn’t feel like I’d won anything. I felt lucky. I had come very close to being shot. Charles and Clark could have died, and I had killed men whose faces I could not recall. I looked at my hands. Dmitri Sautin’s blood was still crusted around my fingernails. I felt myself start to shake, and I closed my eyes and waited for the shaking to pass, and when it did I went into the bathroom and washed my hands and arms. I had to wash twice, and then I showered.

  When I went downstairs, Teri said, “We’ve decided to have a party. We’re going to get pizza.”

  “Great.”

  The phone rang then, and I thought it might be Marsha Fields, but it wasn’t. Reed Jasper said, “Have you heard yet?”

  “Heard what?”

  “We got ’em. Snagged Dobcek and Markov trying to sneak out of a maintenance exit on the north side of the park.”

  I cupped the phone, told everyone that Markov had been captured, and Jasper laughed at the shouts and applause. He said, “You guys going to be around?”

  “Sure. We’re going to have a little party, then I guess I’ll take them home.”
r />   “I want to swing by and talk to Clark. I’ll probably head back to Seattle in the morning.”

  “Sure, Jasper. That’d be fine.” I gave him directions.

  We ordered the pizza, and Joe and Winona walked to the little minimart for soft drinks and beer. I volunteered to make a salad. The Hewitts wanted to go home after the pizza, and I thought that would be a good idea. Let them be a family again. Let them fall asleep under the same roof without wondering if someone would come through the door and shoot them. Teri and Charles went upstairs to pack. Clark hovered at the pass-through, watching me mince garlic. I said, “You’re going to have to tell them.”

  “I don’t know how.” He fidgeted like he was nervous. “I’ve thought about it a lot, but nothing I come up with sounds good.”

  “You just tell them, Clark. You sit them down and tell them you’re sick and that you’re going to die. Let them cry, and you cry with them.”

  “They’re so young.”

  “They’re older than you think.” I took tomatoes and a cucumber from the fridge. “You feel bad, why don’t you rest over there on the couch?”

  He frowned at the couch.

  “Would you rather help?”

  “Huh?” He looked surprised.

  “Would you like to help make the salad?”

  Clark Hewitt stared at me. “Sure.” He came around into the kitchen. I told him to wash the tomatoes and cucumbers, then slice them. As he did it, he nodded. “I get it.”

  “What?”

  “I could sit on the couch over there and feel bad, or I can help make the salad.”

  I put the garlic in a little jar and added some olive oil. “Yep.”

  “Either way I’m going to die.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. The deal with Dak proved that.

  “Maybe I should tell them tonight.”

  “That would be good. If you want, I could sit with you.”

  He thought about it, then shook his head. “Thanks, but that’s okay. I can do it.”

  Good for you, Clark.

  We were tossing the salad when someone knocked at the door, and Clark said, “That’s the pizza.”