The Last Bodyguard

by Sean Black

  “Hold up, you found out where he lives?” she said.

  “Yeah. Don’t know if he rents or if he owns, but it’s where he lives when he’s in LA.”

  “Can you give me the address?” asked Adorno.

  “Of course. I have his name too.”

  Adorno looked at him.

  “You have his name?”

  “Yes,” said Lock. “I don’t know if it’s legit or an alias, but when my partner tracked him down, he found some of his mail.”

  “Can you wait there for a moment?”

  “Sure,” said Lock.

  She stalked off and made a call on her cell phone, pacing back and forth as she talked. A few minutes later, she walked back over to him.

  “I owe you one,” she said.

  “Like I said, it could be an alias,” said Lock.

  “Either way,” said Adorno. “And just so we’re both clear, you came about his mail completely legally, right?”

  Lock smiled. “Of course.”

  “Listen, I’ll put as much as I can behind finding Kristin. We can definitely take a look at the CCTV from the Greyhound Station and check to see if she made any of those buses. If anything pops, I’ll let you know.”

  “I appreciate that, Detective.”

  “Do me one favor though, would you?”

  He nodded his assent.

  “Don’t go getting crazy on me. I’ve been around long enough to know that half of what you told me about how you’ve been tracking this guy is complete horse shit. Frankly, I don’t care too much about your methods. Just don’t do anything while you’re here that’s going to get you arrested.”

  “We’ll do our best to stay within the law,” said Lock.

  Adorno smiled. “That’s nice and ambiguous.”

  “I don’t like to lie,” said Lock. “Not flat out and not unless I absolutely have to.”

  Adorno mulled that over for a second. She walked past him and got back into her car.

  He watched her drive away and called Ty. If Soothe made it and she was conscious, then she might still be their best shot at finding Kristin, assuming Hanger hadn’t done that already.

  64

  A security camera mounted next to the gates observed Hanger’s BMW as it rolled up to the gates. Before he could so much as lower his window, the gates slowly swung open. He drove through and up the long, winding driveway.

  The main house was shielded from prying eyes by a ten-foot wall that ran around the entire perimeter of the ten acre property. Trees and shrubs, none of them native to Nevada, provided an extra level of concealment.

  As instructed, Hanger drove to the back of a garage block. He looked across at Kristin. She was wearing a long blonde wig that was fooling no one. It was the best Hanger could do at short notice. He hoped that her hair cut wasn’t going to blow the deal entirely.

  He waited for someone to appear again as instructed. A minute passed, and a door opened at the back of the garage block and a man appeared, looking pale and skeletal in the late Nevada sunlight. He was in his late sixties with grey hair and piercing blue eyes.

  Even though, once upon a time, he’d been a famous Vegas entertainer, no one in Hanger’s world called him by his name. He was known simply as The Freak because of his extreme, outlandish and sadistic sexual appetites. He paid a lot of money, but it was a onetime deal, so pimps tended only to offer him girls that had outlived their usefulness. Any girl or woman who survived their time with him was no good to work even the bleakest track, and many were never seen again.

  Because of that it was rare for any pimp to offer The Freak a new girl and certainly not one as young as Kristin. For that reason alone, Hanger was sure he could secure a premium price.

  The Freak walked towards them as they both got out of the car. He greeted Hanger first, shaking his hand with papery-thin skin.

  “So good of you to come and visit with me,” he said to Hanger.

  “No problem.”

  The Freak turned his attention to Kristin. “And what’s your name, my dear?”

  Hanger had to hard stare Kristin to get her to tell him.

  “Well, Kristin, I’m enchanted to meet you,” said The Freak. “Shall we go inside?”

  Hanger ushered Kristin through the door and into the garage. There must have been a million dollars' worth of automobiles inside, everything from a brand new Tesla to a fire red Ferrari.

  They followed The Freak through a side door that led into the main house. It was a cavernous place that was full of posters and mementos from The Freak’s career. The walls were lined with pictures of him posing with the rich and famous, everyone from Presidents to movie and music stars.

  Hanger saw Kristin’s eyes widen as she took in some of the pictures.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” said The Freak.

  “I’ll take a bourbon if you have some.”

  “And you, my dear?” The Freak asked Kristin.

  “Maybe some water.”

  “Of course. Coming right up.”

  He disappeared off through a door, leaving Hanger and Kristin together. She was looking around, fidgeting with her hands.

  “I don’t know what Soothe said to you about this guy,” Hanger told her, although he knew exactly. “But it was lies. He’s just a lonely old guy. You’ll spend a couple of days here, you’ll make a ton of cash and then I’ll pick you up.”

  “She said he likes to hurt girls.”

  Hanger laughed. “Him? Nah.”

  “You said he makes girls disappear.”

  “That was a joke,” said Hanger. He pointed to one of the framed posters on the far wall. “He was a stage magician.”

  The last thing he needed right now was more trouble from Kristin. Once he’d been paid, she could do what she wanted. He needed her quiet and compliant.

  The Freak reappeared with their drinks.

  “I would have thought you would have had staff,” said Hanger, looking around. He hadn’t seen so much as a gardener since they’d driven in, unusual for a place this size.

  Kristin sipped nervously at her glass of water.

  “Oh no,” said The Freak. “I always give the staff a day off when I have a special guest.”

  That figured, thought Hanger. He knew that The Freak had a basement and that it was sound proofed. He guessed Kristin would be hustled down there, and safely out of sight, before anyone else was allowed into the house.

  Hanger had met some real weirdos in his time, but the rich, famous ones were always the weirdest. He hadn’t decided if it was the money or fame that did it or whether it was their innate weirdness that drove them to acquire fame and money. Not that any of that mattered. He was about to make a big score.

  The Freak walked behind Kristin and hovered there. She didn’t move. He put his hand out to the wig.

  “Would you mind taking that off for me, darling?” he said.

  “What?” said Kristin.

  “My dear, I spent long enough in what laughably passes for show business in this town to know a wig when I see them. Now, be a darling and remove the wig.”

  Hanger gave her the nod. Slowly, she took it off to reveal her short, red hair.

  The hairstyle had been Soothe’s way of spoiling the deal, a big middle finger to Hanger. It looked like it was going to work too.

  “Yeah,” said Hanger, trying to play it off. “We had a little bit of a miscommunication.”

  The Freak pursed his lips. “A little?” he said, waving for Hanger to join him on the other side of the room. “If you’d excuse us for a moment, my dear.”

  Hanger followed him. He was starting to get pissed. He knew what was likely coming, a price reduction, and he didn’t like it. Maybe he should call the deal off. Kristin could make him good money out on the track. She was low mileage. It was a lot more work, and it carried more risk, but maybe he should go that route.

  “I feel like there’s been a little bait and switch here, my friend,” said The Freak. “I was offered a blon
de. I don’t like redheads.”

  “Come on,” said Hanger. “She’s a swan, and she’s young. How many girls like this you get offered? I could put her out on the track tomorrow and make a bundle. This is like the deal of the century, right there.”

  The Freak shot him a tight smile. “Which brings me to my next question. If she’s so valuable, and I don’t doubt for a moment that she is, then why are you selling her to me?”

  Hanger had anticipated the question. The Freak had been around long enough that it was bound to have occurred to him. You didn’t hand off a girl like this in a onetime deal unless there was an issue. Thankfully, Hanger had prepared his answer.

  “I’m getting out of the game. I’m liquidating my assets,” he said.

  This seemed to amuse The Freak. “Really? And what business do you plan on moving into next?” He held up a finger. “Let me guess, rap music. No, no wait, software sales.”

  He was making fun of Hanger, and Hanger didn’t like it. Maybe he should just take The Freak down into the basement instead of The Freak taking Kristin. After all, there was no one here to stop him and The Freak would be no match for Hanger.

  The Freak picked up on his annoyance. “I apologize, that was uncalled for on my part. Why don’t we do this? I’ll help you with your liquidation, but I won’t be paying full retail, not for an item that doesn’t match the original description.”

  Hanger’s anger fell away. He’d learned in the pimping game that it was better not to get too emotional. That was how deals went south and money was lost.

  “Let’s say half of what we talked about,” said The Freak.

  Hanger turned away. “Forget it.”

  “Then what will you accept?”

  “I’ll drop it twenty. Percent.”

  “Twenty five.”

  “Done,” said Hanger, watching as Kristin stood with her back to them, studying a framed poster from one of The Freak’s old casino shows.

  65

  Lock walked out the front entrance of the University Medical Center, the main public hospital for Las Vegas and Southern Nevada.

  “What’s the news?” Ty asked.

  “She’s critical, but unless she picks up some kind of infection, I’d wager that she’s going to make it.”

  “They let you speak to her?”

  “No. Maybe later in the week.”

  “Fat lot of good that does us,” said Ty.

  A call from Adorno at LVMPD had brought more bad news. Kristin had shown up on CCTV from outside one of the casinos near to the Greyhound Bus Station. She’d been spotted with a man who matched Hanger’s description. The cameras had lost them shortly afterwards.

  “Something has to fall for us eventually,” said Lock.

  “You think?” said Ty.

  “Law of averages,” said Lock. “It’s what this city was built on. Hanger’s on a winning streak but it can’t last forever.”

  “What’s the next move? Leave it to the cops? They have her description, and they have a hell of a lot more eyeballs out here than we do.”

  Lock stared at his partner. “They also have a lot more than one kid to be on the lookout for. They must have hundreds, probably thousands, of trafficked kids and teenagers on their at risk list, and more coming in every day. This is on us, Ty, and it’s going to stay on us until we find her.”

  Ty scuffed the sole of his shoe on the sidewalk. He looked up. “And if she doesn’t?”

  “We’re not out of options just yet.”

  “How you make that out, Ryan?”

  “We still have Andre.”

  “If he’ll play along,” said Ty.

  “Oh, he will,” said Lock, with a rare certainty to his tone.

  “How you figure?”

  “Trust me.”

  They hunkered down in a coffee shop to make the call, the number withheld to increase the chances that Andre would pick up. That was all Lock needed, the opportunity to lay out his case to Andre for just long enough to understand that he was out of other options.

  Across from Lock, Ty was wolfing down a mammoth cheeseburger with fries. He stopped mid-mouthful as Lock held up a finger, indicating that Andre had just picked up.

  “Don’t hang up on me, Andre,” said Lock. “If you do, then the next time we talk it will be face to face and believe me, you don’t want that.”

  “What do you want now? I gave you what you wanted.”

  He sounded defensive. That was understandable.

  “No,” said Lock. “You gave me the wrong apartment number.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes,” said Lock. “You did.”

  “I must have written it down wrong or something.”

  “Or you figured I’d knock at the wrong door and by the time I found the right door that your buddy would have a heads up and would be waiting for me on the other side, all ready to solve your problem with a .45.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t,” said Lock.

  “What do you want?”

  “I told you already. I want Hanger.”

  “Hey, I gave him to you. It’s not my problem if you missed him.”

  So far, the conversation was going exactly as Lock anticipated it would. Andre was evasive and unhelpful. But all that was about to change.

  “You forgotten that we still have the footage linking you to felony arson?”

  “Hey, I held up my end of the deal, okay.”

  Andre sounded a little shrill.

  Lock continued on. “Only it’s no longer just arson, is it?”

  There was a pause on Andre’s end.

  “Like you don’t know,” said Lock. “You’ve been following the news. I know for a fact you have. Which means that you know the lady that ran the place died, and that means your future prospects just got even shittier than they already were.”

  “I don’t think this is even legal. You’re blackmailing me. Maybe an attorney could get whatever you have thrown out. Then what do you have on me?”

  Lock had to give it to him. He was a lot smarter than he appeared. A good defense attorney would absolutely challenge the video they had. Without it, the case against Andre would be a lot harder to prove.

  “A judge going to stop me driving back to LA and putting a bullet in you.”

  “That’s not legal either,” Andre said. “You can’t go around threatening to kill people.”

  “Sure you can,” said Lock. “Maybe you shouldn’t and maybe you’ll get in trouble, but you can. I just did.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I told you. I want Hanger.”

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Then find out. You have three hours. I’ll text you the number to message with the information. If you get it wrong again, or if you try to set us up, then I’m going to find you and no amount of lawyers will save you from me.”

  Lock killed the call.

  66

  Kristin didn’t know why Soothe had been so worried. Up until now, the old guy hadn’t so much as touched her or asked her to do anything, never mind anything else. Okay, he was definitely creepy, but by now she was used to creepy. And if he did want to have sex with her, she’d do what she’d learned to do and just pretend she was somewhere else.

  Hanger had been mad when he left. Something to do with how her hair had been cut had meant he’d gotten less money, and that had put him in such a bad mood that she’d been happy to stay behind.

  After Hanger left, the old guy had given her a tour of the place. It was huge, like something from MTV Cribs. He took a lot of time to point out all the photographs where he was with famous people. She just went along with it. She had no idea who most of them were.

  When he’d finished showing her around, he’d told her to help herself to anything in this huge refrigerator. She’d made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and ate it with a big glass of cold milk.

  At that point he disappeared. As she was
cleaning up, she caught herself looking at this wooden knife block. She’d remembered how Soothe always carried a knife, just in case things got crazy.

  If she took one from the block, he was sure to notice. She opened some drawers and found a small chopping knife, but just before she could take it out and hide it, he came back.

  “I’m afraid I have company soon, Kristin,” he said. “I can’t have them seeing you, so if it would be okay with you, I’d prefer if you were out of sight.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  She’d been so hungry and so caught up in everything that she hadn’t so much as thought about getting out of this place. Now she kind of regretted that, although she had no idea where they even were, never mind how she would get out without anyone seeing her.

  “In that case, follow me.”

  They went down a stone staircase that led to the basement, only this basement was like a whole other house. There was a wine cellar and next to it was like this huge home movie theatre, except rather than seats it had three huge beds. You could lie in bed and watch a movie.

  Her eyes widened as she took it all in. She’d never seen anything like it before.

  “You just make yourself comfortable,” he said, walking out again.

  She sat down on the edge of the middle bed. She should have asked him how the home theater worked. By the time she got to the door to shout after him, she found it was locked.

  Never mind, she thought to herself, she could lie down on the bed and take a nap. The sandwich and the milk had made her sleepy.

  As she lay down on her side, she started to feel a little woozy. She was awake, but her head was swimming and she felt out of it.

  Then the lights went out, and the room was plunged into complete darkness. It was dark that when she lifted her hand up in front of her face, she couldn’t see it.

  It stayed like that for a few minutes. Pitch black darkness. She tried to get comfy. What did it matter that the lights were off? She was going to take a nap.