Killer Girls

by Martin Barkawitz

  ‘And contrary to Lucia Lezzi, he is really dead,’ Borges confirmed. ‘I was present when the medical examination took place. If he ever comes back, it will be as a ghost to trouble us.’

  ‘Okay, but I still don’t see the connections to Lucia’s beloved brother.’

  ‘Mario was one of de Jong’s network. He was and still is, a high class criminal hacker. I was working undercover at the time to gather evidence against him and some other computer heroes.‘

  ‘You?’

  Borges rolled her eyes.

  ‘That sounds as if you think such a job is beyond me?’

  Jablonski raised his hands in defense.

  ‘I know you’re good. I just didn’t expect you to be that good.’

  ‘A somewhat doubtful compliment, but I’ll accept it all the same. Mario Lezzi is highly intelligent. He certainly has more brains than his sister. I suspect he not just keeps his Nietzsche-books and underpants here for further education. Mario will help his sister to make the German bitch talk.’

  Jablonski made no comment, and Borges continued.

  ‘Mario is a strange character. He studied at Harvard but was expelled. Something to do with the disappearance of a fellow student. Although it could never even be proven that a crime had taken place. The dons wanted to get rid of him. I think he enjoyed his reputation as a bad apple or outlaw. When later he was sentenced for fraud and theft by the law, he avoided a prison sentence but was booked for psychiatric treatment. I still don’t know to this day that there was anything wrong with his brain. It’s quite possible he was completely normal and fooled the quacks all the time.’

  ‘That sounds as if you knew him quite well.’

  ‘Mario is highly intelligent, but he never caught on to me.’ Borges said with an unmasked pride. ‘He took me for a stupid Latina who jobbed at Alvarez‘s gas station. That was the place where he and his hacker-friends met in the real world. Sometimes they tired of meeting only online, I suppose.’

  ‘At a gas station?’ Jablonski’s voice reflected his doubts.

  ‘Worse still, a filling station on Staten Island. Can you imagine a bigger wasteland? Miles and miles of cheap houses strung together like pearls and in the middle of it a Mobil gas station. In truth, it was an ideal meeting place for conspirators. Nobody stays long in such an uncomfortable place.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Her partner replied.

  ‘That’s where Mario and his friends sat in the corner of a dingy coffee joint and engaged in their tech-talk, thinking me too dumb to understand a word of it.’

  ‘And in reality you were the eyes and ears of the FBI, Lenita! How, on earth did you ever find out about this meeting place?’

  ‘That was simple enough. The FBI had another contact from de Jong’s organization under surveillance. Once we realized that, old Alvarez had to engage a new help. And that was I.’

  ‘And how long was it until you nabbed de Jong’s little helpers?

  ‘About half a year, although it seemed much longer to me,’ Borges replied. ‘Never in my life have I drunk so much rotten coffee or chewed so much gum. But what doesn’t one sacrifice for justice?’

  Jablonski laughed and even Borges showed a hint of amusement.

  She had told her colleague everything he needed to know about her undercover work. That Mario Lezzi had bedded her was none of his business.

  16

  Lucia was seldom lost for a good idea.

  After the first panic attack at the sight of the police cars, she simply drove past her former hideout.

  Luckily, she knew her brother’s mind better than any other person in the whole world, except perhaps Gordon.

  How had Mario reacted when the cops stormed the site?

  Had it been her, she would almost certainly have died in a hail of bullets, as she had to admit to herself. Lucia never dodged a fight, however hopeless it might seem to her.

  No, her brother was quite different, less impulsive. He saw things much clearer than she, a talent she often wished she possessed.

  Together, they would have been able to fight the whole world, if only they worked in tandem, she told herself with a good deal of certainty.

  Unfortunately, her brother lacked stamina. Ever since his arrest after that damned de Jong affair, he had changed. To her it seemed as if that fiasco had shaken his confidence.

  But why?

  One had to take the knocks with the gains.

  At least he had managed to escape from the mental institution. Was that regained freedom not something to be proud of?

  Lucia cruised through Brooklyn with these thoughts filling her. There were times when she never understood her brother at all, but that did not matter. The main problem now was to find him again.

  As long as Lucia learned nothing about an arrest, she assumed he had somehow managed to escape. Of course, she refrained from the mistake of calling his Smartphone. He had either left it behind or turned it off. And Lucia had no wish to be located by the cops.

  Every few seconds she checked her rear view mirror. She could not discover any signs of being followed. All the same, she changed lanes and watched that no other car followed her maneuvers.

  It was quite simple. If Mario had fled – and was still alive – he would call her sooner of later from some public telephone booth or a new prepaid phone. All she had to do was wait.

  She cast a quick look at her own phone on the passenger seat. Still seventy percent capacity, more than enough.

  And what was the matter with that German bitch?

  If Mario had hightailed it, the stupid cow would now be in the hands of the cops.

  In other words: She would be safe from anything Lucia had in mind for her.

  The killer girl pressed her hands against her temples as she halted before the next traffic lights. How could so many things go wrong for her?

  She felt cold perspiration trickle down her back and told herself not to lose her nerve. It was strange. If she had an enemy before her, she remained calm and collected. But once she had the leeway to think or fear, Lucia felt herself to be at sea.

  If she had not loved Adrian so much, everything would have been so much easier.

  Sometimes she felt as if she herself had brought him into this world.

  Her own childhood was a black abyss. A dark hole into which she only descended in her wildest dreams.

  Adrian is the baby I was never allowed to be. I was just an attachment, a hindrance, superfluous. No one ever needed me. It was at first sad, then unimportant. And now I feel a thrill when people freeze at the sight of me. No one needs to love me, except maybe Gordon and if he does not, it is not the end. Mario still loves me, although he knows no better. That will never change for he has no one else in this world. He pretends that doesn’t matter to him but that lie slips too easily from his lips. Never mind, I want to know Adrian safe and well. He has a weakling as a father and my senseless friend Valeria as a mother, but that doesn’t matter, since he is perfect. And if one of those perverse freaks touches only one hair on his head, I’ll skin him alive with the greatest pleasure!

  That was how Lucia ordered her thoughts, while taking care not to draw the attention of the police. She drove as careful as a learner driver down Flatbush Avenue. And she left Red Hook behind without awakening the dragons of the law. That was a good omen. Her goals were reasonably set and could be reached one after the other. The first was to find Mario and learn what had happened with the German bitch. In the meantime, Gordon, with luck, might beat all the perverse bidders to the draw and thus keep the baby safe.

  The loud ring of her phone shocked her so much, she almost lost control of the car. Her hand trembled as she reached for it and took the call.

  17

  The bath was an absolute pleasure for Kea.

  Brooklyn Lotus Dream was a bizarre mixture of bathhouse, massage parlor and almost certainly a bordello.

  She did not care about the truth of it. All she felt right now was a sense of gratitude towards
Mario. She luxuriated comfortable in the warm, perfumed water and chewed slowly and full of delight on a rice cake which an almond-eyed beauty by the name of Suyin had served her.

  She could have rested in the bath forever. Or at least until the water grew cold. She had just finished the last of the rice cake, washed down with a bowl of jasmine tea, when Suyin reappeared.

  ‘You like massage now?’ She asked softly.

  Kea was about to answer that all she wanted right now was her freedom. But she held her tongue for two good reasons.

  One, she had no idea how closely Suyin and Mario were connected.

  And two, she had no idea if her freedom would be of any benefit to her now.

  Freedom right now meant an absence of knowledge what to do next.

  For that reason she simply nodded, climbed out of the luxurious tub and allowed the Asian girl to towel her down with practiced hands.

  A little later she lay on the massage bed, her eyes closed as Suyin’s strong hands spread warm oil over her exhausted body.

  Although the young Asian was a total stranger, Kea felt her touch as almost a tender caress and soothing. Still, Kea could not forget that the coming meeting with Lucia hung like the sword of Damocles above her head.

  Was there any possibility to avoid it?

  She attempted to try and find out more.

  ‘Does Mario come here often?’ She asked with faked innocence.

  Suyin did not answer immediately. Was it possible she did not know his name?

  ‘I’m talking of the man who brought me here,’ she explained.

  ‘We only call him Mr. Black Jack.’ Suyin replied with a nervous giggle. ‘Because the tables at the casino in Las Vegas have made him a very rich man.’

  That piece of information was totally unexpected. She could not believe everything she had heard from Mario or his impossible sister. It was just as likely this man was a gambler who might have had a lucky streak or two at some time.

  And would that not be better, than to finance his lifestyle by the kidnapping of a baby?

  The question led invariably back to Tom again. She realized that it had been at least half an hour since she had thought of her dead friend.

  Was it possible to forget so quickly? Or did she simply have no time for sorrow?

  Suyin continued.

  ‘You are very lucky, Miss. Mr. Black is a wonderful man with a good heart and very generous. He will give you heaven on earth.’

  Obviously, Suyin assumed that Kea was Mario’s friend. Understandable. Why would the Asian girl assume that she was nothing more than a hostage, or both of them were on the run from the police?

  And that the two of them had arrived at the Brooklyn Lotus Dream in dirty, stinking clothes after Mario had stolen a car in New Jersey seemed of no great significance for the staff. Kea could only speculate what events were of importance in these surroundings.

  ‘Does … hm Mr. Black Jack come here often, with women?’

  She could hardly understand why she had uttered that question.

  Suyin did not hesitate long with an answer.

  ‘Oh, no. You are only the third. I have never seen the other ladies again.’

  Although the sentence was innocent, Kea felt the blood in her body turn cold.

  She could not afford to allow herself to be blinded by his professed friendship and protection. She had witnessed with her own eyes that his sister was an ice-cold killer. There was no reason to believe that this trait did not run in the family.

  Maybe, the women he had brought here were no longer alive?

  What if Mario had enjoyed his pleasures with them, before disposing of their dead bodies?

  She tightened her lips.

  Suddenly, she no longer enjoyed the massage, a fact that Suyin realized almost immediately.

  ‘You are too rigid, miss. You must relax,’ the Asian said mildly.

  ‘It is only … I don’t know how I stand with Mr. Black Jack.’ Kea heard herself reply.

  Suyin laughed softly.

  ‘You must listen to your heart.’

  A banality, Kea thought. And yet the words brought tears to her eyes.

  The last time she had listened to her heart, she had believed Tom. And that had led to the situation in which she found herself now. Kea wished she could simply run away. But at this moment she had not a stitch on her body. She did not even know where to turn if she managed to escape.

  A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. A moment later another young, smiling Asian entered. She bowed and handed Suyin a bundle of carefully folded clothes.

  Kea turned her head and recognized her things or rather Lucia’s clothes. The Asian said something in her own language to Suyin before she left the room.

  ‘Mr. Black Jack sends a message, that he awaits you, once you have had your massage.’

  Kea nodded while the masseuse pummeled her body and kneaded her skin. She thought of the means of escape.

  What if she should ask Suyin to inform the police?

  After all, was she not the subject of a kidnapping herself? And surely she would be able to convince the police that she had known nothing about the kidnapping in Berlin.

  Really?

  Kea realized she still sounded no more convincing than only an hour ago.

  Besides, she had no idea how the Asian would react.

  Mr. Black Jack seemed to be well-received in this establishment. Until now, Lucia’s brother had been very kind to her, despite having discovered her once before when she had tried to flee. That would in all likelihood change if she tried to betray him to the police.

  Once again Kea capitulated to her own cowardice.

  The clothes no longer stank of the sewer, but exuded the pleasant smell of Jasmine. Once she had dressed, Suyin led her down to a lounge that was furnished in antique looking lacquered furniture in the Chinese style.

  Mario rose from his chair and pushed a tea bowl to one side. He beamed at Kea, as if he was totally entranced by her or even in love.

  Was that really the case?

  And would that be a good or a bad sign for her?

  ‘You look wonderful,’ he gushed. ‘We leave at once. I have spoken to my sister on the phone. We’ll meet with her soon.’

  18

  ‘New Jersey Police have just reported the theft of a car.’

  Jablonski snorted after Borges had imparted that news.

  ‘A car theft in New Jersey. I thought that would have relayed to New York City P.D.!

  The two agents were back in the dark blue Ford Crown Victoria, that was easily recognized by any crook by its antenna as an unmarked FBI vehicle.

  ‘Save your silly jokes, Chuck. I asked New York and New Jersey P.D.’s to be on the lookout for car thefts by several people. Our friends in New Jersey lost a pair that could have been Lucia and Mario Lezzi. The two of them fled on a motor cycle. That means they are either bunked up somewhere or acquired some other means of transport.’

  ‘That would be more than likely.’

  ‘As I imagined.’ Borges showed her partner her Smartphone. ‘Look, that’s the shot I just received from New Jersey. Comes from a camera outside a drugstore. This type could be Mario Lezzi. Look, there he breaks into the car. Even the most clever criminals make the odd mistake.’

  ‘Why? Did the theft go wrong?’

  ‘Not at all. They drove away without being nabbed,’ Borges explained. ‘But in his hurry, the idiot picked a car with GPS which can be easily traced.’

  ‘That’s real stupid. And the woman with him? That surely isn’t his sister?’

  ‘By the clothes it could be Lucia,’ Borges replied. ‘Could be she wears a wig or had her hair dyed. But I think it’s more likely this is the German he’s taken for some reason.’

  ‘Could be. But where then is Mario’s sister?’

  ‘Probably wreaking havoc elsewhere in this world.’ Borges growled. ‘I’m hoping all this leads to a gangster brother-sister dream team with us ready to nab them a
ll.’

  ‘Because we can follow Mario thanks to the GPS transmitter!’

  Borges suppressed a disdainful laugh.

  ‘Your intelligence impresses me immensely. We’re tracking the car to its destination. And as soon as the three of them meet, I’ll make sure we have enough manpower close at hand. We can’t let that murderous pair slip through our fingers again.’

  19

  ‘Where are we going to?’

  Kea asked while Mario drove the stolen car through the night. The car was a dark Lincoln Navigator. Kea sat in the comfortable passenger seat. Mario had switched on the air conditioning and the radio provided soft Jazz.

  They had crossed over a bridge and Kea saw the impressive skyline of a million or more lights. It was America as she had always imagined it when she had still lived in Germany. Now that the dream had become reality, it had lost much of its glamour to her.

  ‘Let me surprise you.’ Mario said. ‘For me this is a trip into the past. We will reach a place where I once was very lucky and happy.’

  She had no idea what to answer to that.

  Lucia’s brother continued talking: ‘In that place lived a woman. A woman who was my idol. Do you believe in love at first sight? I always thought that expression trite and reactionary – until I met my soul mate. We were the perfect couple, but nothing lasts forever. I will never see her again.’

  And why not? Was she murdered?

  The thought came without her being able to repress it. She wished she were invisible at this moment. She held her breath – for such a long time that she began to cough.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Mario asked with undisguised concern.

  ‘Y…yes. Just a lump in my throat.’

  She did not want to learn what had happened to that woman. She feared a similar fate might befall her.

  Beyond the bridge the SUV halted at a red light. Kea looked across to the pavement. What if she jumped out, ran to a store and called for help?