Cadoc began pounding on the other side.
“I meant what I said, son. We’ll deal with you when I get back.”
Cadoc had an en suite bathroom. He usually stocked in fruit and snacks on Friday so he’d have something to eat until Maria returned on Sunday morning. And even if he didn’t, he’d survive.
Now … to find Kendrick.
8
“Whatta y’want done, Mister Pendry?” Kendrick said as he slipped into the passenger seat of Elis’s Land Rover.
Wishing to avoid all connection with Jeff “Karma” Kendrick beyond being his employer, Elis had driven into Brawley and bought a couple of prepaid phones. He’d called Kendrick on one of them and arranged to meet him out in the desert.
Normally he wouldn’t trust a man like Kendrick, a sociopath if he’d ever met one. But he sensed a certain core of … what? Certainly not decency. Call it loyalty, for want of a better term. He’d been loyal to the Gargoyles—a ruthless enforcer, by all accounts—and would no doubt be with them still if the leadership hadn’t been disbanded by arrests and lengthy jail terms. Kendrick had done a stretch himself, and avoidance of any and all gang-related activity had been a stipulation of his release. Otherwise, back inside.
Like a dog, he was loyal to the pack.
Ordinarily that wouldn’t be enough to convince Elis that Kendrick was the man for this. The dead trespasser at the tower, however, changed everything. Had he really tripped and fallen to his death in the shaft? Elis doubted it. The barrier was high enough to make that unlikely. Much more likely the man had sneaked past Kendrick who decided to hide his dereliction. Only by chance had Elis caught him in flagrante delicto.
“What makes you think I want something done?”
Kendrick snorted a sharp laugh. “You don’t call me up on a Saturday and ask to meet out in the middle of nowhere just to chitchat. You need something done and I’m the only one you know who can take care of it. And hey, I’m here to listen.”
Elis would have preferred to hear him say, Whatever you want, consider it done, but Karma was too streetwise for that.
“I suppose you have a point. I’m satisfied with how you handled the trespasser. His current whereabouts remain a mystery.”
Kendrick gave a sharp nod but said nothing. Casual. As if to say, All in a day’s work.
“I’d like someone else’s whereabouts to become a mystery, if you follow what I’m saying.”
“I follow.”
“Interested?”
“Depends on who.”
“Are you familiar with the new shop owner in town—the woman who runs the place called ‘Healerina’?”
A slow turn of his head. Yes, he was interested.
“I know her.”
That might not be good.
“‘Know’ her?”
He scratched at his beard. “We talked a little once or twice. Seen her with your boy. What’s your beef with her?”
“If there’s a conflict here, we can end this right now, and this conversation never happened.”
He stared through the windshield. “Whatta y’mean, ‘conflict’?”
“I mean if she’s a friend—”
He laughed. “Oh, she ain’t no friend.”
“So, you don’t have feelings for her?”
“Yeah, I got feelings for her, but they ain’t good feelings.”
This was looking better and better.
“I’m glad to hear that. I would like her gone.”
“‘Gone’ as in…?”
“Gone as in I’d rather not see or hear from her ever again. I don’t think I can make it much clearer than that.”
A smile. “Yeah, that’s pretty damn clear. And you want her gone as of when?”
“My son and I have to travel to San Diego tonight. We’ll be back tomorrow. When we return, I would like her to be, shall we say, a memory and nothing more.”
“Okay, tell me why I should do this?”
What was he saying? Oh, yes …
“For the money I’m offering you: ten thousand dollars, half up front, half when she’s gone.”
There. No dickering. A lordly sum. Known in business as a preemptive bid. And Elis could tell the number struck home because Kendrick let slip the slightest twitch when he heard it.
He sat silent a moment, then: “I might need a little help.”
“You handled the trespasser without help.”
“Yeah, but he fell and that was all she wrote. Just a matter of disposal after that. This gal won’t go quiet. Might involve some getting rough.”
Elis preferred not to know details. She’d be here when they left tonight, she’d be gone when they returned in the morning. No need to know what transpired during the interim.
“Before involving another, you might do well to consider an old saying: Two can keep a secret if one is dead.”
He gave Elis a suspicious look. “I like that. But you’ll be in on the secret.”
Good point—and a little scary. Best to head this off at the pass.
“Not quite. I’ll be on the other side of a mountain range in a San Diego hotel when she disappears, so my son and I will be above suspicion. I will have no idea what transpired back here in Nespodee Springs. Nor will I want to know.”
“Your kid’s sweet on her. That why you’re doing this?”
“I always try to do what’s best for my family.” No lie there, except this time family meant the entire clan. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yeah, we have a deal.”
He handed Kendrick the envelope he’d prepared.
“Here’s the first half: fifty hundred-dollar bills.”
Kendrick hefted it and lifted the flap to make a quick fan through the bills. Elis handed him the other prepaid phone.
Kendrick grinned. “A burner?”
Was that what they called them?
“I wrote down the number of mine. Call me when you’ve settled the matter.”
Kendrick tucked the envelope and phone inside his shirt, then opened the passenger door.
“I better get movin’. If I’m gonna get this done tonight, I gotta start makin’ arrangements.”
Wondering what sort of “arrangements” he needed to make, Elis watched him stroll back to his pickup and drive away with a cloud of dust in his wake. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He’d done it … arranged the murder of another human being. Never in his darkest moments had he dreamed himself capable of such a thing. He tried to balm the guilt and, yes, a modicum of self-loathing, with the thought that she wasn’t just another human being, she was something more or perhaps less. A Duad, the product of Pairing, an impediment to the return of the Visitors, and thus a threat to the entire clan.
As such, she had to … cease.
And as head of the clan Elders, it fell to him to make it so.
9
“San Diego?” Daley said. “I can think of worse places to spend a Saturday night.”
Rhys’s exasperation was almost comical. “With my father? Are you kidding?”
“Why not?” She fought a grin. “He looks like a fun guy.”
“Fun?” That broke through his outrage and started him laughing. “Oh, you have no idea!”
He’d come by the shop and immediately started venting his frustration over his father’s dragooning him into an overnight trip to San Diego that couldn’t be put off.
“Just out of curiosity,” she said, “what’s so important in San Diego that can’t wait? Or is it a family secret I’m not allowed to know?”
“It’s a family secret you’re not allowed to know but I’m gonna tell you anyway, because who are you going to tell? And I can’t see how it would matter if you did.”
“I could tell my two hundred thousand Instagram followers.”
His eyes widened … “Two hun—!” … then narrowed … “Wait … I searched you out on Insta and you’re not even listed.”
“Oh, yeah. Forgot.”
�
��I don’t need you trying to make me crazy, Daley, because my father’s doing just fine in that department. Okay, so here’s the deal, and it’s not really a family secret: Someone approached my father claiming to have a stash of Nikola Tesla’s old papers that supposedly contain the key to the tower technology.”
“The broadcast power thing?”
Daley’s brain immediately red-lined into scam alert. Why didn’t I think of this?
(“Because you’re reaching for higher rungs on a different ladder.”)
Yeah, but why didn’t it even occur to me? When Rhys took me to that demo and nothing worked the way they’d hoped, the grifter part of my brain should have gone into high gear and started figuring angles I could use to separate the Pendrys from their money—even if I never acted on them.
(“I would think Elis Pendry is too smart.”)
But that’s the secret: You get to smart people by telling them exactly what they want to hear, by affirming what they already believe. The Pendrys want to believe that the tower will broadcast electric energy. You tell them it absolutely will, but not without a missing secret component that Tesla kept hidden and you’ve only just now discovered.
“Right,” Rhys was saying. “The broadcast power thing. This fellow says he’s got papers from Tesla’s Colorado Springs place—that’s where he had an experimental lab before he moved to Long Island. These papers contain diagrams and technology he didn’t have a chance to work into the Wardenclyffe tower before the money ran out. Supposedly this is the last piece that, once in place, will make everything work according to plan.”
What did I tell you?
(“You nailed it, I’m sorry to say.”)
Instead of riding a bike, I learned to swindle people. They’re a lot alike in how once you learn, you never forget.
She gave Rhys a level stare. “You realize, don’t you, that he’s being scammed.”
He threw his hands in the air and walked in a circle. “Of course he is! I tried to talk him out of it but he’s determined to go. And everything has to be on the down low because the energy companies are supposedly out to stop this guy by any means necessary.”
Another tried-and-true technique: We’ve got to keep this secret. Loose lips sink ships. If word gets out you’ll queer the deal. And now he’s added the ever-reliable “they.” “They” want to stop him … His life is in danger if “they” find out.
“Also, the guy says he’ll be in San Diego tonight and tonight only. If we don’t do the deal, then he’s hopping a plane to Osaka to talk to a Japanese businessman who’s very interested.”
Wow, this is touching all the bases. Set a deadline and start the clock ticking. Now or never, baby. You miss this window, it closes forever. He who hesitates is lost. You snooze, you lose, and so on. I’m impressed. This guy is a pro.
Daley said, “So why does Pops want you along?”
“He says because I’ll be joining the Elders one day and I should know how to deal with these things. But I think the real truth is he has his doubts about the guy and wants a little backup.”
(“I think he could take more imposing backup.”)
That makes two of us, but I’m not saying anything.
“At least San Diego’s got better restaurants than Nespodee Springs.”
“I was hoping you and I would wind up in a nice restaurant tonight. And normally I’d have blown him off, but I think he needs a voice of reason and skepticism along.”
“And that will be you?”
“That will be me.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I was really hoping to see you tonight.”
As he started to reach for her she stepped back.
“No PDA, okay? We’re under constant scrutiny, it seems.”
He glanced around at the pair of browsers idling through the shop and sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. How about tomorrow night? Dinner? I know a little Italian place in Brawley that serves Sunday gravy with spaghetti and meatballs.”
Her mouth immediately started watering. “I love Italian food. You’re on!”
He started for the door. “Call you to firm it up when I get back.”
“Don’t have too much fun without me.”
He exited laughing.
Well, looks like we’ve got another exciting Saturday night in Nespodee Springs ahead of us.
(“I don’t mind. I’ve got a number of projects I’m working on. By the way, we need to turn the clocks ahead before bedtime because daylight savings time starts two A.M.)
Oh, right. Her phone and the cable box would reset themselves, but not her microwave.
Got to remember to do that.
(“I’ll remind you.”)
I have no doubt you will.
(“‘Spring ahead—’”)
Yeah, yeah, I know.
The tarp over the window space was giving her a closed-in feeling. She stepped into the doorway and checked out the street.
Quiet now. Earlier, the big excitement had been the ambulance that had raced in from the El Centro medical center and spirited the horrors victim away.
I wonder how that guy’s doing.
(“If he’s like any other horrors victim, not well. Nobody seems to be able to get a handle on treating it.”)
And you say it’s from “outside”? Outside what?
(“I’m not sure. The horrific visions afflicting them are not generated by a disturbed mind. They bear no connection to … how do I say this?… they’re totally beyond human experience. That’s why I said ‘outside.’ I’m afraid I can’t be more specific than that.”)
Daley would have pressed him further except she spotted Karma Kendrick standing across the street, staring her way.
Oh, look. Mister Muscles is strutting his stuff.
Before he walked on he flashed a grin that sent a chill straight to her marrow.
SUNDAY—MARCH 8
1
Awright. Time to take this uppity bitch down a few pegs. No, make that all her pegs.
Karma had stood out front of the Thirsty Cactus Saturday afternoon and watched Pendry and his kid drive out of town. The kid had been behind the wheel which put Pendry on the same side as Karma. They’d locked eyes as the car passed but they was both too savvy to nod or give any sort of sign that something was on between them.
With Pendry gone, the plan was on.
Pendry had said to do this solo, but Karma knew better. Yeah, Daley might be a lightweight but bitches like her could be slippery as eels, and some was a lot stronger than they looked. They say you don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. But if you’re smart, you don’t bring a gun neither. You bring a fucking cannon.
That was why Karma had Benny Mendoza along. Benny was big and tough and mean as they come. Pendry had said two can keep a secret if one is dead, but two can also keep a secret if they’re both equally guilty.
Karma hadn’t completely leveled with Benny. Told him he’d been paid two Gs for the job and he was splitting even steven—after the job was done. A grand was a big payday for Benny, especially for something he’d probably do for free because the plan was to wrap up the bitch and take her out in the desert and have some fun with her before they finished her and put her in the ground. Karma was really looking forward to doing anything he wanted to that fine little body.
I just don’t think we’re a good match …
Those words had been locked in his head. He kept hearing her say that over and over. He knew what it meant: You ain’t good enough for me.
You wanna match, slut? Well, guess what? We’re gonna match up real fine, you and me. And then we’re gonna see how you match up with Benny. We’ll take our time with you. We got all night to get our jollies.
So midnight had come and gone a couple hours ago and here they was at her back door. Tonight’s big, fucking, fat-assed moon was lighting up the sky. Luckily it hung more toward the front of the building so the back here was in shadow.
Karma’s pickup sat straight below with their boots in the cab. They�
�d climbed up the steps with gloves on their hands and socks on their feet. T-shirts and work gloves made for a funny look, but Karma had insisted on gloves. A peek through the window by the door showed everything dark inside. So now Benny stood ready with the duct tape while Karma worked on the lock. He’d learned to pick in the Gargoyles. Kicking down a door would do in most cases, but sometimes you had to be sneaky. Like now.
The gloves slowed him down, but finally the last pin fell, the cylinder turned, and they stepped into a kitchen.
Karma took the duct tape and had a flashlight ready but left it off because now the moonlight was their friend, lighting up the front room through the big window there and letting them see where they was going. They padded into it and saw a dark doorway to their left. Karma led the way. As soon as Benny was in beside him, he lit the flashlight.
She woke with that deer in the headlights look. “Wha—?”
Benny didn’t hesitate. He jumped on her and got her in a choke hold just as she started to scream. She kicked like a wildcat and Karma admired those long flying legs as she grabbed at Benny’s arms, but no way she was gonna break that hold.
It looked like everything was under control and just a matter of a few more seconds before she started going limp. Karma was getting ready to start tearing off strips of tape when Benny suddenly let her go and fell off the bed. He hit the floor with a thud and didn’t move. Karma gaped in shock.
“Benny—what the fuck?”
But still he didn’t move, and the bitch was screaming now—not that anyone was around to hear her. She jumped off the bed and ducked by him. He made a grab for her but with the flashlight in one hand and the tape in the other, he couldn’t get a grip. He raced after her, managed to grab a hunk of her hair and yank her back, but she turned and kneed him in the balls. He couldn’t help it—he let her go. But at least he’d put himself between her and the door.
He heard a drawer open and utensils rattle. He couldn’t see a fucking thing so he fumbled along the wall, found a switch, and hit it. An overhead light came on and showed her charging him with a big kitchen knife.
Double Threat Page 33