Wish List

by John Locke

  “Kevin?”

  “Huh?”

  “Is Sam alive?”

  “I can’t say for sure. Why all the questions about Sam?”

  “You’re the only one I know to ask. And Nadine says I need closure.”

  “If it turns out he’s dead, would that help?”

  She thought a moment. “Yup.”

  I took out my cell phone, called Callie, and asked if she’d heard from Sam recently. I listened a moment, then hung up and said, “Callie didn’t kill him.”

  “So he’s alive?”

  “Far as I know.”

  Rachel nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”

  “You want me to find him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Wouldn’t be too hard to track him down.”

  “He can rot for all I care.”

  “Technically, he’s still your husband.”

  “He’s a lying, cheating prick.”

  He was indeed. However...

  “Uh, you lied and cheated on Sam too,” I said.

  She looked at me through wide, sincere eyes and said, “That’s different.”

  We looked at each other a moment, and she said, “You understand, don’t you?”

  I did. Most women believe their cheating is on a higher level than their husbands’ because of the emotional connection they form with their lovers before having sex. Of course, I could argue that an emotional, physical affair is much worse than casual sex. But what do you expect me to say? I’m a guy.

  “I do understand why it’s different,” I said.

  She smiled brightly. “Thank you, Kevin.”

  Rachel knows my name is Donovan Creed, but she’d met me as Kevin Vaughn, and she’s comfortable calling me that. I don’t care what she calls me. Donovan Creed isn’t my real name, either.

  “Would you really take me with you?” she said.

  “I’ll take you right now if you want.”

  She paused. “Where are you going?”

  “You mean from here? The first place?”

  She nodded.

  I took a deep breath. “Well, you might not believe this, but I’ve got a guy and a woman chained to trees in the woods in Southern Indiana. I have to set them free before we can actually do something fun. Oh, and I have to make sure another guy’s wife doesn’t get killed.”

  “Is she insane?”

  “What?”

  “Is she insane like me?”

  I cupped her chin in my hand and looked into her tupelo honey-colored eyes. “You’re not insane, Rachel. You’re just wise in ways other people don’t get.”

  “But you do.”

  “I do.”

  “And that’s why you love me.”

  “It is.”

  “So this guy’s wife. Why can’t he keep her safe?”

  “He’s been kidnapped. But before that happened, he called me and said someone might try to kill his wife.”

  Rachel said, “Maybe you should take care of all that first, and then we can go somewhere together.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  I knew Rachel wouldn’t leave her apartment. She was months away from being travel ready. But it’s important for her to know that I’ll always take care of her, whether she’s with me on the road, or with Nadine in her million dollar penthouse.

  We chatted a while longer, and then I left. After crossing the street I turned and looked for her in the window. She waved to me and I blew her a kiss. I continued standing where I was on the sidewalk, watching her in the window, and would have remained there an hour, had she continued to look at me.

  The building that housed Rachel’s penthouse apartment was actually a private hospital, though Rachel wasn’t a patient. In fact, the nurses and psychiatrists who worked in the lower building were unaware she was receiving treatment. For all they knew, Rachel was Nadine’s granddaughter, and they were living together, sharing the penthouse. So Rachel’s “treatment” was unofficial, and I’m the one who set it up. I did so after learning Rachel killed a guy in Florida during our vacation. I thought it wise to get her out of the state as soon as possible and get Nadine involved, instead of the cops. So I used a portion of the funds I’d given Rachel to purchase an income-producing private hospital, where she could be quietly cared for by my former psychiatrist.

  From her window, Rachel smiled and waved at me again. I gave her a full bow, and performed a little dance step. I’m a dreadful dancer, and my effort made her laugh.

  Rachel had been here nearly four months, and shamefully, this was only my third visit. Each time I came she expressed an interest in leaving with me, and I always offered to take her. In the end, she always backed down.

  My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I retrieved it and smiled. With nothing more to go on than the caller ID, I knew who was behind Wish List:

  My former associate, Victor.

  This was going to be very interesting.

  Rachel was still watching me from the window, so I waved again.

  One day I’ll show up and she’ll be ready to run off on another wild adventure with me. Traveling with the moody, homicidal Rachel has its ups and downs. On the upside, she’s incredibly sensual and tons of fun. On the down side, her violent mood swings are explosive, and could lead to murder. Still, no one’s perfect, and I enjoy her company more than any other woman I’ve known, which probably tells you something about me.

  Up in the window, Rachel blew me a final kiss and closed the curtains. I stood there a moment longer, thinking about all the ways Rachel understands me that other women don’t.

  Take sex, for instance.

  Rachel instinctively knows what type of sex I like: Frequent sex.

  Chapter 11

  “Have you…killed her?”

  The voice on the other end of the line was tinny and labored, and came from a computer-generated voice program that belonged to Victor, the quadriplegic billionaire midget I’d worked with and killed for, several times.

  “Killed who?” I said.

  “Who…do you…think? Jinny…Kidwell.”

  “Is Hugo with you?” I asked. Of course he was. Hugo was always with Victor.

  “I’ll…put him on…speaker…phone.” Victor said.

  “Good. We can cover more ground that way.”

  Hugo said, “What’s your interest in Buddy Pancake?”

  Victor and Hugo are megalomaniacal midgets bent on world conquest. Victor is the brains and financier, Hugo is the general of their international army of little people. If Victor was involved, Wish List was another of his “Social Experiments.” It was vintage Victor, granting desperate people four wishes, and then pulling the rug out from under them. A few years ago I’d been involved with another of Victor’s social experiments. He’d been offering financially-strapped people a hundred thousand dollars if they agreed to let him kill a criminal who had never paid for his crime. Of course, in Victor’s mind, by taking the money they’d become accessories. It was my job to assassinate them. I didn’t get very far before my conscience got the better of me. Considering the magnitude of evil they’ve unleashed upon the world, Victor and Hugo have somehow managed to keep—pardon the pun—a low profile in the criminal world.

  “Must I repeat the question?” Hugo said.

  “My interest in Buddy Pancake? I want to save his life.”

  “Why?”

  “I owe his sister.”

  “Who’s his sister?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Is Jinny Kidwell alive?”

  “How would I know?”

  “What are your plans for her?

  “What makes you think I even know her?”

  Hugo sighed. “Our cameras picked you up in Buddy’s garage. If you know about Buddy you know about Wish List. If you know about Wish List you know about his connection to Jinny Kidwell. Early this morning we learned that Jinny Kidwell was missing from her trailer. That means someone snuck past ten highly-trained perimeter guards and removed her
from the premises without making a sound, something no one on earth could have managed. Except you.”

  “You consider those guys highly-trained?”

  “It’s what I was led to believe. In any event, what are your plans with regard to Ms. Kidwell?”

  “I’m going to exchange her for Buddy.”

  “Easily done. Is she alive?”

  “Is he?”

  “At the moment, I believe he is.”

  “When last I saw her, Jinny was alive as well.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Where’s Buddy?”

  “Look, Mr. Creed. Jinny is one of the highest profile people in the world. If she remains missing, or dies, there will be endless media coverage. Victor’s plans could be compromised.”

  “If you can’t handle the pressure, you shouldn’t have accepted Jinny’s wishes.”

  “You don’t understand. We’re trying to save her life.”

  “I fail to see how paying Buddy Pancake a million dollars for a roll in the hay could possibly save her life.”

  “That’s the payment she had to make to stay alive. And a damn small one, I think you’ll agree.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s kept it quiet for months, but she’s got an incurable disease.”

  “And you’ve got an antidote?”

  “We do.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “It’s one dose.”

  “What, you can’t make more?”

  “The chemist died in an accident. His formula died with him. Our people have spent the past ten months trying to analyze it a drop at a time. We’ve made progress, but we’re years away. Unfortunately, the serum breaks down over time, and when that happens the components can’t be analyzed. The shelf life is short, less than a year, and we’re closing in on that deadline. We’ve done all we can, but it’s over. We can’t duplicate or replace it. But we can save Jinny’s life. She’s had three injections, but needs one more, and she needs it today, if possible. Bottom line, there’s only enough serum left for one dose.”

  “And you promised it to Jinny?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What’s the disease?”

  He paused. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not? My line’s secure.”

  “So is ours. But Victor hasn’t authorized me to tell you.”

  “Victor?” I said. “Hello?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “He left the room? I didn’t hear his wheelchair.”

  “It’s a brand new one. Completely silent.”

  “Does he ever creep up on you?”

  “All the time. Scares the shit out of me.”

  “What’s he doing right now?”

  “Meeting with our computer programmer.”

  “Can you interrupt him?”

  “Not a good idea.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll ask him when I see him. In the meantime, tell me about Buddy, starting with where he is right now.”

  “Arizona.”

  “Jinny’s in Indiana,” I said, letting him know I’ll be more specific when he is.

  “He’s in a ranch house that borders twenty thousand acres of private land,” Hugo said.

  “Why?”

  “He’s a participant in a hunting game.”

  “Against his will?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “What’s the game?”

  “They call it ��Run, Son!’”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “There are a dozen hunters with rifles, and Buddy and forty-nine other Wish List alumni are prey. They’ll have a two-hour head start, but they won’t escape.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They’ve had monitoring devices planted in their backs, next to their spines, where they can’t reach them.”

  “What if Buddy gets one of the other participants to dig it out?”

  “It’ll explode, rendering him paralyzed.”

  “Like Victor.”

  “Except that Victor won’t be lying on the desert floor, helpless, when the hunters come.”

  “Tell me the rest of it.”

  “There’s a point system. As prey, Buddy’s worth seventy points to the hunter that bags him. The younger, stronger, faster targets are worth up to 250 points. When the last kill is made, the points are totaled and the winners receive valuable prizes.”

  “How do you verify the points?”

  “The hunters dig the devices out of their backs.”

  “Each device is labeled with the points?”

  “Correct.”

  “You think Buddy’s head will wind up mounted on someone’s wall?”

  “I think we’ll bury him with the others deep in the desert after the point count, unless you return Jinny to us. Where is she?”

  “I left her chained to a tree in the woods.”

  “Her health won’t permit it. You’ve got to get her to us immediately.”

  “I can do that. Provided you spare Buddy’s life.”

  “Buddy’s worth squat. There’s got to be a catch.”

  “I also want you to leave his wife alone. Forever.”

  “Will that do it?”

  “Nearly.”

  “What else?”

  “They get to keep the million dollars.”

  “Done.”

  Chapter 12

  When Jinny Kidwell and Harrison Ford heard me coming they broke into excited stage whispers. Poor things, that’s all the vocal power they had left. Had I been searching a hundred yards away instead of knowing their exact location, I would have missed them.

  As I made my way through the underbrush, their pleas became more urgent. But upon seeing me, they grew silent.

  Jinny didn’t look as frail as I expected, but she was pissed. She unleashed a torrent of curses at me like none I’d ever heard from a woman. And I’ve known some tough women! But curses are more effective with volume, and Jinny’s invectives, though scathing, came across as comical.

  I tried not to smile. She caught me and began another round.

  “Relax, Jinny,” I said. “You’re about to be saved.”

  Calling over my shoulder, I said, “You too, Harrison. Hang on. I’ll be there in a minute. You’ll be back with your wife before you know it.”

  Jinny's steel wrist band was secured to a length of chain that wound around the tree. When I circled the tree to remove the chain I noticed something on the ground.

  “Is that yours?”

  She turned to look at me and followed my stare. Then she stopped cursing and lowered her head, embarrassed.

  “I’ll be damned,” I said, grinning.

  “A gentleman would pretend not to notice my droppings,” she whispered. Then she grew angry again and whisper-shouted, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “I was just trying to calculate what that might be worth on eBay, if I could get it documented.”

  It took her a moment to process my words. Then she whispered, “What?”

  “Scarlett Johansson blew her nose into a handkerchief and sold it for fifty-three hundred dollars. The same buyer paid twenty-eight thousand for a half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich.”

  “That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting!”

  “I suppose I could get one of those DNA testing labs to authenticate it. They might certify it came from you.”

  “You’re joking!”

  I was joking. But not about the value of Jinny Kidwell’s scat in today’s celebrity-crazed society. I had no doubt that her droppings would fetch a hundred grand, if marketed properly.

  Really, I’m kidding. I mean, about actually doing it.

  Later, in the car heading south, after two hours of angry silence and a couple of hot teas with honey and lemon, Jinny’s voice was on the mend. She was hoarse, but I could understand her.

  “Did you even stop to think about us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If something ha
d happened to you, we would have died out there.”

  “I told someone where you were.”

  “You did?”

  “Not the exact location, but yes, in general.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No, really. I told my girlfriend.”

  She appeared, not surprised, but stunned. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”

  “I do.”

  “For real?”

  “Of course.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Rachel.”

  Jinny shook her head, sadly.

  “What’s the matter?” I said.

  “She’d have to be insane.”

  Chapter 13

  I continued driving south, through Nashville, and eventually dropped Jinny and me off at a private airstrip near Franklin, Tennessee. Before boarding our charter jet, I untied Harrison, returned his car keys, and gave him a generous tip, along with a warning that I was counting on his complete discretion. Jinny showed her sweet side by giving him a long hug and thanking him for helping her get through their ordeal. Then Jinny and I climbed in the Hawker 400 XP and flew to the remote landing strip near Great Bend, Kansas, where the exchange would be made. Hugo and I were in constant contact during the flight, and he caught me up to speed on everything that had happened in Buddy’s miserable life since filling out the form on WishList.bz.

  Upon landing, I told Jinny and the pilots to remain onboard and visible. Then I walked, as instructed, to the fourth hangar, and knocked on the door.

  “Face the wall while I pat you down,” said one of Victor’s huge, well-muscled goons.

  I looked at Hugo and said, “Is this really necessary?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. Try to take it as a compliment.”

  I endured it.

  “He’s clean,” the goon said.

  “I can guarantee you, he’s armed.” Hugo said.

  The goon looked down at Hugo with scorn. “You tellin’ me my job, little man?”

  “Maybe you two should get a room,” I said.

  “Maybe I should stuff my foot up your ass!”

  “You’ll have to buy me dinner first.”

  “Where’s the weapon?” Hugo said.

  I pointed to the watch on my left wrist.

  Hugo nodded.

  “The fuck is that?” said the goon.