by Eddy Will
The less troubling ‘why’ was that Diana had decided to keep an eye on Maria, making sure she did what she said she would do. It meant that Diana had lost trust, not a good place to be for Maria. Either way, the surveillance was not a good sign.
She had hailed a cab and given the driver directions to Kings Road via a circuitous route. And the black Vauxhall had faithfully followed Maria’s taxi. There was no doubt that Maria was being followed.
Maria moved away from the thugs looking to blend into the crowd. But as she moved, so did they. One had crossed the street tracking her on a parallel, the other stayed some thirty feet behind her.
Maria had to lose the men. Her next appointment was a private and personal matter, one that she wanted to keep from Diana’s prying eyes. She had to find a way to shake the tail, lose the thugs, before she met Styx.
Chapter 24
Beverly Hills, California, August 2, 2012, 2:07 PM
Lawyers, secretaries, receptionists and administrative staff rushed in and out of the building in a steady never-slowing stream. Jack Storm might have missed Todd Ashley in the crowd had it not been for the two stocky bodyguards emerging from the revolving doors ahead of the attorney. The short-haired heads snapped in all direction, alert eyes behind dark sunglasses scanning the crowd for a threat. And seeing none, their charge exited the building carrying an overstuffed briefcase and wearing a baseball hat and dark sunglasses, uninspired tools of anonymity. The lawyer conferred with his security detail before the trio headed for the parking garage. The lawyer and one of his guards disappeared down the ramp, leaving one man on the sidewalk to protect the entrance.
Jack Storm started his car and waited. The attorney’s white BMW SUV pulled out of the garage, Ashley’s red baseball cap clearly visible. The lawyer pulled into traffic while the second guard jumped into a sedan that pulled out behind the lawyer’s BMW.
‘Here we go,’ Jack thought and pulled from his parking spot. A loud, angry horn exploded in Jack’s ear. He slammed on the brake as an oversized blue Suburban veered around Jack’s hood. Jack was stunned, he had not seen the massive vehicle before he pulled out. It had appeared out of nowhere. Jack pulled behind the Suburban, cursing the bulky vehicle which was blocking his view from Ashley’s car. The white BMW was several cars ahead, snaking his way through thick traffic. It would not be difficult to follow the attorney in heavy traffic, Jack figured. The sedan, containing the two guards followed Ashley closely. The small convoy worked their way through traffic in a north easterly direction. Jack stayed about six cars behind the white BMW. The lawyer reached Sunset Boulevard and turned east toward Hollywood. Traffic eased and Jack struggled to stay within sight of the speeding white BMW as they passed enormous compounds of the superrich of Beverly Hills.
Ashley turned into a canyon and the sedan followed closely, cutting in front of on-coming traffic. Jack was stuck in the turn lane having to wait for an opening. A motorcycle burst across the intersection and disappeared into the canyon. When Jack turned into the canyon he had lost sight of the lawyer and his white SUV. He followed the winding road up the steep hill, his eyes scanning driveways for a sign of Ashley’s car. A mile up the narrow canyon he caught a glimpse of the white BMW before it disappeared around another bend. Jack sped up to close the gap. When he made a sharp hair-pin turn he almost collided with the sedan containing the bodyguards. Jack slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid a collision. Ashley had pulled up to a modern glass and steel home with a stunning view of the Los Angeles basin. Jack continued to drive up the steep canyon, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. Ashley had exited his vehicle and was talking to the men in the sedan. Jack followed the road around a bend and turned around. The vast, sprawling city of Los Angeles spread out below, disappearing into orange smog in the far distance. Jack saw Ashley’s white BMW hugging the edge of the pavement. He pulled behind an old rusty Cadillac.
Ashley bent into the driver’s window, his arms pointing in various directions as he talked. Finally he straightened and waived at the guards. The driver turned his car around and the bodyguards disappeared around the bend. Ashley unloaded the overstuffed briefcase from his car, looked up and down the hill and, satisfied he was safe, headed for his house.
Jack’s mind raced. Was this the opportunity to make his move, to get out of his car and walk the short distance to Ashley’s front door, while the lawyer was busy with his keys?
It was. Jack climbed out of the car, his eyes on the attorney, as the man moved up the steps to his front door. A car door opened further downhill, close to Ashley’s house. A man exited the car, a lightness in his step, his hands buried in the pockets of a hoodie. The man did not turn or look back and did not see Jack. He moved quickly toward the lawyer’s house. Jack slowed, his focus on the unfolding scene ahead. The vehicle from which the man had jumped was a blue Chevy Suburban, the same vehicle that had cut off Jack earlier.
Something was wrong. Jack moved to the side of the road, navigating the small path between parked cars and a steeply rising hill.
The man in the hoodie called Ashley’s name as he skipped up the steps. The attorney turned, briefcase in one hand and keys stuck in the door. He was confused, he did not recognize the young man.
The man pulled a handgun with a long barrel from his pocket, leveled the weapon at the lawyer’s head and fired from a point blank range. Jack saw the muzzle flash, but there was no ear-shattering explosion, only a dull spit. Jack stood frozen as he watched the lawyer slump against his front door and slide to the ground, leaving a long red streak on the white door. The killer lowered the weapon and fired more shots into Ashley’s body, each one accompanied by a dull spitting sound. The man knelt by the lawyer’s body and confirmed his kill. Satisfied, he rose, took a photo of the dead body and headed for the Suburban. The killer locked eyes with Jack who had been unable to move, paralyzed by the cold-blooded murder he had just witnessed.
The man did not slow or show surprise. He pointed his weapon at the witness of his crime. The muzzle flash and the pinging sound of the bullet hitting the car next to Jack snapped him into action. He raced into the thick brush, struggling up the steep hill to get away from the killer. More deadly spits followed and Jack heard the bark on nearby trees splinter from bullets. He scrambled on hands and knees up the steep hill.
More shots spat from below. He raced uphill, panting, sucking in air, forcing his hands and feet to move at double time. A car peeled out, tires screeched, then shouts erupted. The driver called off the shooter. Jack glanced back. The killer had aborted the hunt and ran for the getaway car. He jumped in and the driver sped up, hurling the blue SUV downhill and away from the scene of the crime and Todd Ashley’s dead body.
Jack waited in the brush, catching his breath. Ashley’s body lay sprawled on his front porch, a large pool of dark red blood expanding over the grey concrete floor. Jack descended the hill and returned to the road. It was eerily quiet, only a breeze rustled through leaves. Jack’s impulse was to run, leave the murder scene as quickly as possible, but then he remembered the overstuffed briefcase. He hurried down the hill to the lawyer’s home and stopped at the steps of the porch. He stared at Ashley’s limbs, twisted in death, the small hole in his forehead, just above the right eye leaving no doubt about the killer’s successful mission. Ashley’s briefcase had tumbled down the steps, leaving papers and documents strewn below. Jack hastily gathered the spilled contents and stuffed the papers into the briefcase.
Back in his rental car, he left the bloodbath and headed downhill to Hollywood. He was too stunned to think. Someone had gotten to Todd Ashley moments before he would have. And he had just lost the only lead he had, slamming the door on his quest to find Anna. Waves of desperation pounded against the walls of his heart. Todd Ashley’s connection to Anna, no matter how murky and far-fetched, was the only lead that had sustained Jack in the last forty-eight hours. And now his only lead to find Anna had been obliterated with one clean shot to the lawyer’s head.
C
hapter 25
London, England, August 2, 2012, 10:17 PM
Maria Koshkova moved through the crowds on busy King’s Road. The two men kept pace, one on each side of the street. The Vauxhall had fallen back, almost out of sight. Koshkova had to lose the men. A plan formed in her mind, it involved the red-headed date waiting at a bar nearby. Koshkova picked up her pace, pushing through the crowd and skipped up the steps into the eclectic punk-rock bar. The interior was dimly lit and crowded, just as she had anticipated. She spotted the tuft of bright red hair at the back of the bar. Koshkova elbowed her way across the space, flashing a smile at Styx. She embraced the skinny punk rocker and pulled her close, her mouth close to Styx’s ear.
“You look hot,” she breathed into the redhead’s ear. “I want to get out of here, I want you alone,” she said.
Styx dug her fingers into Koshkova’s back. “Let’s go then,” she said.
Maria had placed Styx’s body between herself and the entrance, her eyes on the door. One of the men entered the bar, his neck craning in search for the woman he had been trailing.
“I want you to get a cab and meet me in the alley in 10 minutes,” Koshkova breathed into Styx’s ear, pushing her body against the skinny punk rocker, while her eyes followed the man who had started to work his way through the dense crowd.
“Why?” Styx said, “You just got here, what’s the rush?” Her mind fogged from Maria’s hot breath.
“There are men following me and I don’t want them to. Help me lose them, so we can have some privacy,” Koshkova said, her eyes on the man who was moving ever closer.
“What do they want?” Styx said, suddenly concerned.
“I’ll explain later, but for now can you get a cab and meet me at the back?”
“Sure,” Styx said, not sure at all.
“Great. Go, now” Koshkova said and pushed Styx toward the door.
Maria Koshkova moved to a table in the corner, ducking out of view.
Styx struggled to put meaning to what had just happened. She was confused, but her feet moved to the exit nonetheless. She noticed a man enter the bar, his eyes instantly searching the crowd. Then she collided with the other. They were not hard to spot, they simply did not fit in with the artsy crowd. Their faces were tough, their features harsh and unsettling. Styx instantly disliked the men. What did Maria have to do with such characters?
Styx pushed around the man, whose eyes had moved past the redhead, scanning the room beyond. He twisted his body to move past her in the tight space, when his jacket folded back revealing a handgun tucked into a waist holster. Styx stared at the firearm. The stunned redhead pushed out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.
Maria Koshkova had watched her girlfriend exit the bar, walking right by the men tailing her.
Maria locked eyes with a middle-aged man in a suit and loose tie nursing a pint of pale ale. She smiled at him, then looked away coyly. The business man smiled back and adjusted his glasses.
As Koshkova had suspected, moments later he pulled up next to her small table. Koshkova acted surprised and smiled again, raising the half empty glass Styx had left behind. The man’s face lit up as he returned the gesture and motioned to sit down. Maria feigned surprise and seemed to blush as the businessman awkwardly squeezed between the bench and table. He introduced himself with a soft, moist handshake, shouting his name across the noise. Maria Koshkova did not catch the name nor did she care. She shouted back “Debbie”, while her eyes focused past her new date, searching the crowd for a sign of her shadow. He appeared, squeezing past entangled couples, his eyes darting from face to face.
Maria locked eyes with the businessman. Her shadow would spot her any moment and she had to appear involved and oblivious. She smiled warmly at the man in her booth, her peripheral vision reading the shadow. The tail signaled his companion and relaxed against a wall some ten feet from Maria’s table, his hands buried in his pockets. The tail would keep an eye on his subject from there. There was no need for him to move. His partner would keep a larger angle of vision from further back, while the Vauxhall would be double-parked outside.
Maria smiled and nodded at the businessman who had decided that this ship had come in. His confidence grew and he inched closer to his conquest-elect using awkward physical moves to make seem natural what was not.
Maria knew that her shadow was reading the same signs from his perch ten feet away. He was looking at a date that was going well from the male’s point of view. There was nothing to worry about, his subject was not going anywhere.
Maria glanced at the large watch on the businessman’s wrist. It was time a make a move, Styx would be in the alley soon. Maria leaned forward and allowed the eager businessman to feel her presence, as she smiled at him only inches from his face. She then excused herself and she would have sworn the man’s face had flushed. As she rose, she bent over just enough to allow insight into the design particulars of her shirt, her slender finger pointing at the two glasses. The red-faced businessman nodded eagerly. Maria moved through the crowd to the restrooms. From the corner of her eye she noticed the tail look up sharply. He saw the businessman indicate another round to the waitress, pointing at the empty glasses on his table. Satisfied that the date was still going strong, Maria Koshkova’s shadow relaxed against the wall. Koshkova headed for the restroom at the end of a long dark hallway. No one followed her. The men’s restroom door opened and a portly, tipsy man with a polished bald head ambled like a sailor down the hallway in search for the next beer. Maria hurried to the end of the hallway and pushed through the rear door into the alley. Styx held open the car door as Maria ran the half dozen steps to the cab.
“Wow, that was exiting,” Styx said, closing the door and giggling at the clandestine operation she had just been involved in.
“Well, it’s an excitement I could have done without,” Maria Koshkova said. She looked out the rear window as the taxi turned out of the alley. No on was running into the alley looking for her.
“Ok, I can’t wait,” Styx said, turning to her lover, “what was all that about. You are not a spy, are you?” she said, still giggling.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Maria said.
“Come on, for real. Who was following you?” Styx said.
Maria gazed out the window into the drizzle. The taxi had turned on King’s Road. Her mind searched for a plausible explanation. She had to stop Styx from thinking about the incident and already regretted having involved her young girlfriend in the action.
“I am working on a complicated acquisition of an art piece from Italy. The piece has been pledged and is en route to London, but the seller has not transferred payment yet, even though it had been scheduled. So, the seller is nervous, understandably, and I guess, they have sent someone to make sure I am playing by the rules, to make sure I won’t disappear with the piece. It’s ridiculous, of course, but the artsy types are not known for their reason and logic. It’s really not a big deal. I just did not want them to know about you, because you are all mine,” Maria said, flashing her winning smile.
“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” Styx lied, who had not understood much of what Maria had said. “So, who do they send to check up on you? The Mafia? Get it? Italy, the Mob,” Styx said, rolling her eyes. “Are they going to make you sleep with the fishes,” she added, trying her best Marlon Brando impression, but not succeeding.
“That’s not funny,” Maria said, before she could censor herself. “No, of course not, it’s not the Mafia, you fool,” she said quickly. “They are probably assistants of the seller, I don’t know, interns maybe, but no Mafia,” Maria said, shaking her head.
“Just kidding,” Styx said. But she had seen the men who had entered the bar and she knew they were not interns. “But I appreciate that you want to keep me out of the ‘investigation’ she said, using air quotes. “Wouldn’t want the artsy snobs to know that you are sleeping with a punk rock anarchist, that would not do now, would it,” she added, laughing. “And
I wouldn’t want them to take pictures of us and plaster them all over the internet. On second thoughts though, a sex scandal might help my budding music career. What do you think?” she said, teasing Maria.
Maria Koshkova laughed. “Who knows, it might help mine too,” she said and placed her hand on the punk rocker’s leg, caressing the flesh under the Union Jack stockings. Styx sensed her lover did not want to talk any longer about the men who had followed her. The gentle hand on her thigh made that clear and it wasn’t important to Styx any longer either. She felt a heat rising that fogged her mind and numbed her thoughts. But she had learned something important: Maria was not telling the truth.
Chapter 26
Hollywood, California, August 2, 2012, 3:32 PM
Jack had inched along Sunset Boulevard, a sea of red brake lights as far as the eye could see. He ignored the sights and the famous boulevard, his focus turned inward, contemplating the events of the last hour. His only connection to Anna had been shot and killed in front of his eyes, slamming shut the door on the only lead he had. Todd Ashley was gone and he had taken his secrets with him. Jack did not see the bright lights of clubs and restaurants lining the busy Boulevard. He only saw the black hole that was his life.
Jack noticed the blinking light of a small motel and pulled in. He booked a room for the night, although he could have rented it for the hour. He carried the lawyer’s briefcase to his room, locked the door and emptied out the content on the bed: thick stacks of documents clamped together with large black office clips, loose papers, envelopes and a number of pens, a calculator and a well-read paperback copy of John Grisham’s ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’.