by Bill Bernico
“So you’re the third person then?” I said.
“I’m afraid not,” Bob said. “There’ve been a few since then.”
“Popular spot, eh?” I said. “So who came up with this BASE name?”
Bob had to think for a moment before his memory kicked in. “Some cinematographer named Carl Boenish came up with it as a way to categorize the various types of jumps.”
“So what about the cliff you jumped off of?” I said. “Where was that?”
“Funny you should ask,” Bob said. “The tallest vertical rock face in Europe is a place called Trollveggen. It’s thirty-six hundred feet tall. Now that was fun…and scarier than anything else I’ve ever experienced.”
“I’ll bet,” I said, but why did you say that it’s funny I asked?”
“Because Carl Boenish died jumping off that one,” Bob said.
“No fooling?” I said, wide-eyed. “Was he the only one?”
“Nope,” Bob said. “After number eleven splatted at the bottom, they shut the site down. Too dangerous, they said.”
“But you did it,” I said. “Weren’t you scared?”
“I’m scared every time I jump,” Bob said. “When you stop being scared you get careless and that’s no way to stay alive in this business.”
Bob stood there staring at me. Neither of us said a word for a few moments. Bob stared out into the abyss of skyscrapers and smog. He seemed to be looking for something.
My curiosity was burning. “What are you waiting for, divine inspiration?” I said.
Bob turned back to face me. “I’m just checking the wind direction. I need to land somewhere over there,” he said, pointing to an open area below. “I’m about ready to jump. Another six or seven minutes and I’ll be airborne. Now and if you want a better view, I’d suggest you go back down to the observation deck.”
I stepped gingerly toward Bob and held my hand out. Bob shook it and released it. I quickly stepped back, further away from the edge. “Observation deck nothing,” I said. “I’m going down to the street to that place you pointed to. I want to be there when you land. Have a safe landing,” I said as I turned toward the roof door. I was back on the street in minutes and ran toward the open area that was to be Bob’s landing place.
Bob grabbed the pilot chute in his right hand. He stepped back a few paces, took a few deep breaths and then ran full out toward the edge of the roof. Pushing off with his legs, Bob sailed through the air outward, away from the building. After a second or two, Bob released the grip he had on the pilot chute and flung it upward. It billowed out, catching the wind and pulling his main chute out of its rigging. The chute opened completely as Bob’s legs swung outward. He was almost horizontal with the ground before he swung back the other way and finally settled, hanging straight up and down. He’d only descended nine or ten stories by this time.
I cupped my eyes and looked up. Bob pulled on the right side of the rigging, trying to steer away from the building. He was having trouble controlling his chute. Then as if on cue, a gust of wind grabbed the chute and blew Bob straight at the building. Bob tried to make corrective adjustments, but the wind was too strong. He slammed into the building at a high rate of speed and heard a snap as his left arm smashed into the skyscraper.
Bob started to descend rapidly and he knew his chute must have collapsed. He still had time to deploy his reserve if he could reach the ripcord, but he’d stopped falling and was now dangling. He was facing the building, his cheek against the glass. Bob instinctively looked up to see his canopy caught on something protruding from the face of the building. The top of the canopy was ripped and something he couldn’t identify was showing through the silk.
Bob stared into the window and could see people moving about inside. Then one person saw Bob hanging out there, obviously in trouble. Within five seconds almost everyone in the office was now less than a foot away from him, watching from inside at the man who was trapped outside.
Bob hung there from the building for a few minutes, his arm broken and unable to move. He looked into the window and saw people with horrified faces pointing to somewhere behind Bob. He was tangled in his rigging and still couldn’t turn around to see what the people were pointing at. Bob looked past the office workers to see a block-style calendar with three blocks for Month, Day and Year. He could make out SEPT on the first block. The second block was turned to display the number 11. The last block had four digits that displayed 2001. Bob readjusted his focus and looked in the window’s reflection. He thought he must have sustained a concussion and that he was hallucinating. Bob couldn’t believe what he saw in the glass. It was a commercial airliner and it was coming right toward the building.
Three seconds later Bob’s world went blank and New York City would never be the same again.
104 - Mysterious Ways
“I’m going down to the corner for a paper,” I told Gloria, who was busy entering more case files into our computer database. “I’ll be right back.”
“Bring me a donut, would you, Elliott?” Gloria said.
“You think the paper guy sells donuts, too?” I said.
Gloria looked up from her computer screen. “Two doors down,” she said. “The bakery is sure to have them, though I doubt they’d sell you a paper.”
“Look,” I said, “can we just agree that I’m the comedian in this family and let it go at that?”
“I thought it was funny,” Gloria said, turning her attention back to the screen.
“Glazed?” I said.
“Powdered sugar,” Gloria said.
I left the office and was out on the street in a minute or two. Harry was standing at his paper stand with this morning’s paper in one hand. He held it over head and yelled, “Get your paper here,” with all the enthusiasm of a spinster librarian.
“Morning, Harry,” I said. “Let me have one, will ya?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Cooper,” Harry said, pulling a fresh paper off his stack and handing it to me.
I paid harry for the paper and stood there for a moment looking at the front page. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I spun around.
“Excuse me,” the man said. “Did I hear this man call you Mr. Cooper?”
“That’s me,” I said.
“Elliott Cooper?” the man said with a smile.
“Yes. Why, are you in need of a private investigator?” I said.
“Not exactly,” the man said, reaching inside his coat. I tensed momentarily and then relaxed my muscles when his hand came out holding nothing more than a folded paper. He handed me the paper. “You’ve been served,” he said. “Good day.” He walked away without another word.
I laid the newspaper down on Harry’s stand, looked at Harry and then down at the folded paper.
“What’s that?” Harry said.
I opened the paper and glanced at the heading. It said Subpoena in a fancy script font across the top of the paper. I looked further down and quickly scanned the contents. “I’ve been subpoenaed,” I said without looking at Harry. “They want me to testify in court next week.”
“Lucky you,” Harry said.
I started to walk back toward the office when Harry called out to me. “You forgot your newspaper,” he said.
I turned back, picked up my paper and headed back to the office. Gloria was just coming out of the bathroom when I walked into the office.
“You get my donut?” she said, looking at my obviously empty hands.
“Huh?” I said. “Oh, no, I forgot.”
“How could you forget in that short time?” Gloria said.
I handed her the subpoena. “That’s why,” I said. “I got served right there at Harry’s news stand.
“Now what did you do?” Gloria said in that motherly voice she used so often.
“Why do you automatically assume this is from something I’ve done?” I said.
“All right,” Gloria said. “Why do they want you in court?”
I unfolded the subpoena and turned
it so that Gloria could read for herself. “Apparently I’m going to be a material witness in the proceedings against Doris Peterson.”
“It’s a familiar name,” Gloria said. “Where do we know her from?”
“Couple of months ago,” I said. “Remember the guy who wanted to hire me to tail his wife to Palm Springs to see if she had another guy on the side?”
“But he’s dead,” Gloria said.
“And they arrested Doris for her husband’s murder,” I said. “The prosecution wants to hear about my part in the dance. I don’t know what I can tell them except that Oscar hired me and that I never got as far as tailing Doris when he turned up dead.”
“Well, then,” Gloria said, “it should be a short day in court for you. You can only tell them as much as you know, unless there’s something you know about this case that you haven’t told me.”
I shook my head. “Nope,” I said. “You know what I know. I have a feeling Doris either killed Oscar or had it done and if that’s the case, I don’t think my testimony is going to help the prosecution’s case very much.”
“Which day are you scheduled to appear?” Gloria said.
I looked again at the subpoena and found the court date near the bottom. “Monday, August fifth at ten o’clock. Why?”
Gloria checked her desk calendar. August fifth was just six days away. “You’re supposed to meet with Drew Larson.”
“I guess I’ll have to reschedule him,” I said.
“Don’t do that,” Gloria said. “We might not get another shot at his business. I’ll meet with him and explain your situation when I get there. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
I thought about for a moment and decided she was right. Getting Drew Larson’s business could mean the difference between making our expenses for the month or digging into our savings to make ends meet. Business had been slow for a few weeks and we really needed that account. “Okay,” I said. “You handle Drew and I’ll join you as soon as I can get out of court.”
“I think it might be a good idea if you got your notes together from the Peterson case,” Gloria said. “Make sure you have the answers to whatever they might ask you.”
“Well, let’s see,” I said. “I met him here in the officer once and got a retainer. He gave me a photo of his wife and the Palm Springs address where she was supposed to be going and told me when she was leaving. Yup, I got it all.”
Gloria shrugged and spread her hands. “That’s really all there is as far as you’re concerned, isn’t there?”
“In and out in ten minutes,” I said. “I can’t tell them what I don’t know.”
“There is one important detail you overlooked,” Gloria said.
I quickly glanced down at the subpoena again. “What did I forget?” I said.
“My donut,” Gloria said.
I looked up from the document and narrowed my eyes. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “Think you can manage for ten minutes?”
Gloria didn’t answer, but instead just shooed me away like a pesky fly. I walked back down to the street and passed Harry’s newsstand again on my way to the bakery. All this talk about donuts made me hungry, too. I selected two large powdered sugar donuts, paid the clerk and carried the little white bag out of the shop.
As I waited at the corner for the light to change, a man sidled up beside me and stood there, waiting along with the rest of the pedestrians. The light turned green and the walk sign lit up. People in front of me began crossing the intersection and when I stepped off the curb I could feel something hard poking me in the ribs. I looked to me left, into the face of the man who had situated himself at my side. He was smiling a smile that had nothing to do with conveying friendliness. He prodded me with the .45 in his hand.
“This way,” he said, nudging me to my right.
“Careful with that thing,” I said. “It might go off.”
“Just do like I say,” the man said, “and it won’t. Now just keep walking.”
A black car pulled up to the intersection and the man with the gun walked me over to the back door and shoved me inside the car. He followed me in and slammed the door closed. The guy behind the wheel waited for the light to change and then proceeded south on Cahuenga.
“This is kidnapping,” I said. “But I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.”
The man with the gun elbowed me in the ribs. “What you’re going to do is shut up and just sit there quiet like,” he said. “Is that what you were going to say?”
I nodded, trying to catch my breath. The man next to me slipped a black cloth bag over my head and warned me to keep my hands off of it. The car proceeded south on Cahuenga for several blocks before turning east on some other street. He turned south again after a minute or two and kept going until he reached another place where he needed to wait for cross traffic. I could hear other cars passing in front of us. Within a block of pulling out into traffic again the car came to a stop and the man next to me nudged me out of the passenger side of the car and followed close behind with the gun in my back. He held my biceps with his left hand and I assumed his right hand still had the gun stuck in my ribs. We walked around to the back of wherever it was that we’d stopped and he rapped on the door with the gun. The door opened and I was pushed inside. I tilted my head down and although I couldn’t see in front of me or to either side of me, I could see the floor. It was a small black and white checkerboard pattern that looked well-worn.
“Is that him?” I heard a gruff voice say.
“That’s him,” my escort said. “Thinks he’s smart.”
I felt myself being pushed down and I sat on something soft; maybe an overstuffed sofa. Someone sat next to me and leaned in to remind me to leave my hands off the bag if I wanted to remain among the living.
I could hear movement in front of me and then I heard Gruff Voice say, “I understand you’ve been subpoenaed to testify in the Peterson trial next week, Mr. Cooper.”
It was unnerving that he knew my name. “That’s right,” I said, “but what…?”
“Don’t talk,” Gruff Voice said, “just listen. “When they get you on the stand, you don’t know nothin’, understand?”
“But I really don’t know anything,” I said. “I never did get a chance to work for Mr. Peterson before he was killed.”
“Is that right?” Gruff Voice said. “So why would they haul you into court if you can’t tell them anything?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “I never even got a look at Mrs. Peterson in the flesh. I only saw a photo of her. I don’t know what I could tell them about anything.” Somewhere outside I hear the sound of a train passing. It sounded close, perhaps within a block or so of where I was sitting.
“Well, you make sure you stick with that idea,” Gruff Voice said. “You may not care about your own health, but I know where you live. That’s a cute little kid you’ve got there, Mr. Cooper. I’d hate to see anything happen to him if you decide to play hero.”
I tried to reach out but was restrained by the man who’d brought me here.
“Don’t be stupid,” Gruff Voice said. “Even if you could grab me, what could you do? And even if you got in one good punch, well, just remember that I have someone watching your house and old Mrs. Chandler wouldn’t be able to put up any kind of fight at all.”
Oh great, I thought. He knew that we had a nanny and he knew her name. I’d have to try a different approach if I wanted to get myself and my family out of it alive. “I understand,” I said, my voice cracking somewhat.
A large hand that smelled of garlic patted my cheek and I flinched. “Smart boy,” Gruff Voice said. “Get him outta here. Drop him off a couple of blocks from his office and then get back here.”
My escort said that he would and pulled me from the couch. I dragged my heel on the floor as he pulled me to a standing position. If nothing else, I could leave my mark in case I needed to identify this place later. The man with the gun pulled me out of the room and back out to the car. I tried to v
isualize my surroundings and tried to estimate distance as we drove away from that place. After ten minutes of winding through city streets, my hood was yanked off my head and I squinted from the bright sunlight coming though the window of the black car. The car pulled to the curb and my escort reached over me and opened the back door.
“Remember what we told you,” he said to me just before he pushed me to the sidewalk and slammed the door. The car was gone before I could get a look at the license plate number, but I was able to identify the car as a Chrysler.
I checked my watch. It was ten-thirty. I looked up at the street signs on the corner and realized that they’d dropped me off near Ivar and Yucca. I was two blocks from my office and I hurried back there. I don’t know what made me think of it, but I realized that my bag of donuts must still be in the back seat of that car. It wasn’t bad enough that they put me through that ordeal, but it was like salt in the wound to know that those two gorillas were probably enjoying my two powdered sugar donuts at this very moment.
I made my way through the lobby and rode the elevator to my floor. When I got closer to my office, I could hear voices. I opened the door only to be met by Gloria and Lieutenant Eric Anderson from the twelfth precinct.
“Where have you been?” Gloria said in a frantic voice? “You should have been back more than an hour ago.”
“I got involved in something else and lost track of the time,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Gloria said. “That’s it?”
I looked away from her gaze. It’s nothing,” I said. “I ran into someone and we got to talking. What’s the big deal?”
“Elliott,” Lieutenant Anderson said, “I talked to Harry down at the corner newsstand. He tells me he saw you leave in a black car with another man.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “That’s the guy I was telling you about. He just wanted to talk.”
My face must have given me away because Gloria grabbed both my shoulders and made me look at her. That action made me remember what Gruff Voice had said about my son, Matt.
“I’ve got to get home,” I said.