Hollywood Underworld: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (The Hollywood Alphabet Series Book 21)

by M. Z. Kelly

  “You mean make it sound like your bio-dad is our source?” Eva said.

  “Yes, but I think we should hold that piece back and see how things play out. Harlee needs to believe that we know what’s been going on before we lean on her.”

  “What’s in it for Harlee to give the others up?” Joe asked.

  “She knows she’s never getting out of prison, but suppose we dangle a carrot. We could offer her something other than spending the rest of her life in a supermax prison.”

  “Better living quarters, with more privileges,” Eva said, looking at Joe. “In exchange for information about Nathan Caine.”

  He nodded. “The only problem is it’s a promise we don’t have the authority to make.” He looked at me. “That said, I don’t have a problem with stretching the truth, especially when we’re dealing with a terrorist. Hell, I’d tell her she’ll spend the rest of her life in the Bahamas if we get what we need.”

  An hour later, our flight touched down in Phoenix. We were met by a military escort. Joe asked him where we were going, as he showed us to his car in a driving rainstorm.

  “Can’t say,” the driver said. “Other than telling you it should take just over an hour to get there.”

  The roads were a mess, due to the weather. It took us the better part of two hours to make our way through heavy rain to a sparsely populated town in the desert.

  “Apache Junction,” Joe said, as we drove through the small town. “I remember reading they used to shoot western movies around here somewhere. Hell of a place to keep the world’s most wanted terrorist.”

  Moments later, our driver turned onto a dirt road and headed toward some mountains without comment.

  “Maybe Harlee’s in a hole in the ground,” Eva said. She looked at me. “It might make what you have in mind about management upgrading her room worth a shot.”

  Twenty minutes later, we arrived at a small concrete facility in the middle of nowhere. The rain had stopped, and we were met by a man in military fatigues, who introduced himself as Lieutenant Rogers. He then explained where we were.

  “The Superstition Mountains are about a half hour from here,” Rogers said, pointing to the horizon, as we walked to the small prison. The lieutenant was a short man, around fifty, with a solid build and a weathered complexion. His good humor contrasted with the bleak surroundings. “Supposedly, the Lost Dutchman gold mine is up there somewhere, in case you want to do some mining when you’re done.”

  “No time for that,” Joe said. “Tell us about our prisoner.”

  Rogers stopped at the concrete building and punched some numbers into a keypad. His expression grew serious. “She’s our one and only inmate, held in a fortified underground bunker. She’s got all the necessary amenities, but...” He rubbed his jaw as the electronic door buzzed and snapped open. “You’ll see.”

  After signing in and showing our credentials, we were led underground through a maze of tunnels. Rogers stopped at a steel door and said, “Ms. Ryland is waiting for you inside. She’s restrained, but, fair warning, she’s not very cooperative or happy about her confinement.”

  Rogers unlocked the door, and we saw his prisoner sitting at a wooden table. A single lightbulb illuminated the room, which was barren except for the table and three chairs across from her. The room was cold and damp. We walked over and took seats across from her, with me sitting between Joe and Eva.

  In that moment when Harlee Ryland’s eyes lifted and she looked at me, I had the impression I was looking at a ghost. The last time I’d seen her, it was obvious that she’d given up on her appearance, but I was unprepared for the figure that sat in front of me. Harlee’s dark hair was matted, her complexion sallow. Her eyes were sunken and watery. Instead of the defiant, angry subject I’d previously known and expected, we were dealing with someone who appeared to have given up on life.

  Joe took a seat and made introductions, adding, “You’ve met with Detective Sexton in the past.”

  Harlee didn’t respond. Instead, her dark eyes fixed on me for an instant before her gaze moved off. Joe gave a slight nod in my direction, an indication that I was to take over.

  I cleared my throat and said, “I’ll get to the point, Ms. Ryland. We know about Nathan Caine and the plutonium. Tell us where we can find him.”

  Harlee’s head slumped forward, her dark hair covering her face.

  I tried again. “Please tell us what you know. Thousands of lives are in jeopardy.”

  Nothing.

  Joe tried, already deciding to play the upgrade card, probably because our prisoner was so detached from reality. “If you cooperate, we’ll see to it that you’re moved to far better quarters than this. We can arrange for decent meals, television, even outside activities. The way you spend the rest of your life is up to you.”

  There was no response. I wondered if she’d been medicated, or her solitary confinement had left her unable to cope with reality.

  Eva gave it a shot, raising her voice. “Ms. Ryland, look at me.” Harlee’s gaze briefly found her. “This isn’t going to be pleasant if you don’t cooperate. We need you to answer our questions.”

  Our prisoner’s head slumped down again, and she whispered something unintelligible.

  I leaned closer to her. “What is it?”

  She spoke again, only one word that was intelligible. “Father.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?”

  There was no response. I reached over and swept the hair out of her eyes, raising my voice. “Talk to me.”

  Her cold, empty eyes stared at me, a thin smile finding her lips. “The secret.”

  I glared at her. “What secret? What are you talking about?”

  Her breath became shallow, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her voice came again, almost like it was disembodied, a soft cry in the night. “It dies with me.”

  Our prisoner took in a watery breath, but didn’t go on. Her weight shifted, and she slumped to one side. The only thing that kept her from falling were the restraints attached to her wrists and affixed to the table. Her body started to shake violently, and a white foam came from her mouth.

  “She’s lost consciousness,” Eva said, standing and going over to her. She shouted toward a security monitor as Joe and I also came over. “We need medical assistance. NOW!”

  It took only seconds for the electronic door to come open and medical personnel to respond. The guards released the restraints, and Ryland slumped to the ground as they examined her. A doctor made several chest compressions before using an injection. I had a thought that his patient might have had a heart attack. A couple minutes later, an announcement came that filled me with despair, making me realize I would never know the truth about my bio-dad.

  “Her heart stopped,” the doctor said, standing and shaking his head. “I think she’s been poisoned.”

  FIFTEEN

  After killing Lee Chong and dumping his body, Nathan Caine had spent the next couple days overseeing the assembly process with Adam Taylor. The men were pleased with Ted Hollister’s progress, which had been much quicker than expected. If all went well, they believed, they would have a working bomb the following day.

  Chong’s murder had long been planned by Caine. He had been instrumental as a go-between, assisting in the transport of the nuclear material. But Caine had never trusted the little man. He even had suspicions he was working as a double agent and had compromised his operations. He was aware that Chong’s body had been found, but there had been no further repercussions. With Chong out of the way, and the authorities unaware of his intentions, Caine was convinced he could proceed as planned.

  As Caine and Taylor watched Hollister work, the scientist explained about the assembly process. “The explosive charges are in place. They form a circle around the sub-critical mass. The electrodes will be fastened to a lithium battery.” Hollister looked up from the workbench. “It will only provide a tiny spark, but it will be sufficient to ignite the chemical explosion. It will set off
a chain reaction that will result in the plutonium achieving supercriticality.”

  Caine watched as Taylor picked up an LED timing device. His partner entered numbers into the display and looked at him. “I set it to explode tomorrow evening at six.”

  Caine nodded, at the same time smelling the alcohol on Taylor’s breath. His friend’s drinking problem had been even worse than he’d thought. When the assembly was in place and the bomb was delivered, Taylor would have to die, along with Hollister and his daughter. Their deaths would assure that all ties to him would be severed.

  Caine took the timer from Taylor’s hand and put it on the workbench. “We’ll work out the details and timing in the morning.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Taylor said, the lines on his fleshy face deepening.

  Caine put a hand on his old friend’s shoulder as his phone rang. “Of course. You know that will never be an issue.”

  The terrorist walked away from the garage, and Hollister took the opportunity to use the bathroom in the house. Caine saw that the call was about the scientist’s daughter. “How are things going?” he asked.

  “She’s fine, just missing daddy,” the caller said.

  Caine and the man on the line talked about the progress Hollister had made. The caller then said, “Everything went as we expected in the desert.”

  He knew he was talking about Harlee Ryland. “Has it been released to the media?”

  “Not yet. My sources tell me they don’t even have a cause of death yet.”

  “I’m glad she’s finally out of the way, so that we can make some real progress.”

  After some further discussion about the events in Arizona, the man on the line said, “Should I kill the girl?”

  Caine glanced over as Hollister came back out of the house. “Let’s wait until things are in place. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  He was about to end the call when the man said, “And that other situation?”

  “Continue to monitor things. If I have time, I’ll handle it personally.”

  After ending the call, Caine joined Hollister, and the two men started to walk back into the garage. In that moment, they saw Adam Taylor stumble, his hand reaching out and brushing against the nuclear device on the workbench. The movement was enough to cause the weapon to be pushed off the bench.

  In that instant, the wire leading to the chemical explosives inside the device suddenly came into contact with a metallic tool box on the floor. A static charge of electricity pulsed through the partially assembled weapon, causing a high voltage current to surge into the chemical explosives.

  “Run!” Ted Hollister yelled, even as Adam Taylor stumbled again and fell to the ground. The scientist was at Caine’s side, pulling him away from the garage.

  “What’s happening?” Caine demanded, as they ran from the structure.

  Hollister tried to catch his breath. “There must have been a static charge. It would cause the explosives in the weapon to change the arrangement of atoms.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Caine demanded, as the men looked back and saw the garage erupt into flames.

  “The containment field is uncontrolled. The nuclear material inside the weapon is burning. We’ve got to get out of here. NOW!”

  “Why? What’s happening?” Caine said as they ran for his truck. He realized Adam Taylor would have been incinerated in the fire.

  “The radioactive elements are burning down. It’s also venting radioactive gasses into the atmosphere.”

  Caine started the truck and began driving away from the white-hot fire in his rearview mirror. He glanced over at Hollister. “What the hell does all that mean in terms that I can understand?”

  Hollister mopped his brow. “We just had a nuclear meltdown.”

  SIXTEEN

  “The doctor couldn’t be sure until the autopsy and tox screen is performed,” Joe said when we were on the plane, headed back to LA. “But his preliminary conclusion is it was cyanide poisoning.”

  “How would she get cyanide in what amounted to being in her own supermax prison?” Eva asked.

  “One of the guards might have a connection to the Swarm or been compromised. There will be a thorough investigation.”

  My thoughts surfaced, even though I still felt dejected about never again being able to talk to Harlee. “I’m wondering whether it was a homicide or suicide.”

  Joe shrugged. “I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure, unless someone talks.”

  “What happens now?” Eva said.

  “We begin again.” Joe looked at me. “You know where we can find that Road fellow?”

  I nodded. “I’ll text my friends, see what I can arrange.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I felt the heaviness in my eyes as I looked at him. “I don’t think I’ll never know the truth about my father.”

  Eva reached across the table and touched my hand. “Maybe there are others that know something. Don’t give up.”

  I nodded. “Maybe.”

  After a couple minutes, I excused myself and went to the back of the plane. My long night and the day’s events had left me exhausted. I had just started to doze off when I looked up and saw Eva taking a seat across from me.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  I took a breath. “Yes. It’s just...” I released my breath slowly. “It’s disappointing. Both for me, personally, and for the taskforce.”

  Her eyes held on me. “It’s a difficult time for everyone. I want you to know...I’m here for you if you need anything. I realize that our relationship has been strained because...” She glanced toward the front of the plane, where Joe was sitting. “...because of that big lug.”

  I smiled. “I told you before, Joe and I are...we’re just friends. I have no issues with what happened between you two.”

  “Thank you. Do you want to know the truth about why we broke up?”

  “Only if you want to tell me.”

  Her eyes softened. “I think he had feelings for you. Very strong feelings. I knew that was always going to be between us, so I ended things.”

  I blinked several times. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

  “How are things between you and Joe now?”

  I took a moment, trying to understand my feelings. I smiled. “I guess you could say they’re complicated.”

  “You care about him a lot, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It’s taken me a long time to get there, but I finally realize we’re bonded, maybe in some ways that I’ll never completely understand.”

  “I get it. Joe’s not the easiest person to understand, but...” She took a moment, then added, “I have some advice, only if you want it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Life is short. You never know what tomorrow might bring, or, in our case, even if there will be a tomorrow.” She stood, smiled, and put a hand on my shoulder. “Just keep it in mind. I only want the best for you...and for Joe.”

  ***

  After landing, I got a text from Natalie, telling me that Myrna was with Elmer Road at a place called Jumbo’s Clown Room in Hollywood. My friends insisted that Elmer would be more cooperative if they met me at the establishment without Joe and Eva. I explained the situation to my companions, and told them I would call and let them know what, if anything, I learned.

  I’d been to Jumbo’s a couple times before. The place had been around since the ‘70s, and was a combination bar and stage, with loud rock ‘n’ roll music. The stage was set up for amateur performers, both men and women, who showed their expertise in pole dancing. Yes, I said pole dancing. The mission of the owners was for everyone to clown around, something that Natalie and Mo were demonstrating as I walked through the door.

  “Come on up here,” Natalie said, clinging to a pole and undulating, before pointing to the far side of the stage. “There’s a vacant pole over there.”

  “Time to show your stuff,” Mo said, clinging to another pole. She grunted, tried to hoist herself u
p on the pole, then slid down to the floor of the stage. “But it ain’t as easy as it looks.”

  There were other performers in various stages of dancing, sliding on their poles, and, in most cases, demonstrating what it means to be in a place called a Clown Room. It was part circus and part strip club, all of it lubricated with lots of alcohol.

  “I think I’ll pass,” I said to my friends over the blare of the music. I looked around. “Is Elmer here?”

  “He’s in the back,” Natalie said as she twirled around her pole. “We’ll show you.”

  I helped her and Mo off the stage, and my friends led me down a corridor, explaining the benefits of pole dancing.

  “You can burn as many calories as a two-hour workout at the gym,” Natalie said. She smiled. “It’s also great for the vajayjay muscles.”

  Mo agreed. “It feels like Hulk Hogan did a dumbbell press with my vagina, and it was pretty dumb to begin with.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I said, as we stopped outside a door.

  Natalie knocked three times, then entered. We found Myrna Sweets with her new boyfriend in a small lounge, watching a soap opera.

  The sound came down as we entered and Mo introduced me. “This here is our roommate that we mentioned.” She looked at Elmer. “She’s with LAPD, so you might know her.”

  Elmer lifted a glass of scotch, drained half of it, then looked at me and croaked, “Last I heard, you were working patrol with that mutt.”

  Myrna’s boyfriend was about five-six, heavyset, with a comb over (think a fat Kermit the Frog with about twelve strands of hair).

  “We’re still partners, working Homicide now,” I explained.

  “Homicide.” He looked at Myrna. “Hard to believe a dame is working stiffs.” He chuckled. “Then again, they come by it naturally.”

  I tried to ignore what he’d said, as Myrna told me, “I heard you’re working that wax museum case. I saw the girl on the Internet. It wasn’t pretty.”

  Myrna Sweets was pushing fifty, with a shock of red hair, lots of blue eyeshadow, and ample breasts that seemed to hold an unnatural attraction for toads. Elmer’s gaze lingered there, while he poured himself another drink.