by J. S. Carol
‘At least, he had a daughter,’ the kid added.
‘Okay, I get it. She’s dead. Please don’t do subtext with me. It really pisses me off.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘I don’t want an apology, damn it! I want the who, why, what, where and when.’ Seth lit his last cigarette and crumpled the pack. ‘You!’ he shouted down at the white lesbian. ‘I’ve got a really important job for you, honey.’
‘Fire away,’ she replied, as eager to please as the black kid was.
‘I need you to run out and get a pack of cigarettes. Marlboro full strength. None of those crappy Lights.’ The girl’s face fell. ‘What? You think you’re too good for that? From where I’m sitting, it’s the boys who are doing all the hard work, while you’re just sat there dreaming the day away. You might as well make yourself useful.’
Seth took a drag on his cigarette. Caroline Bradley was on the big screen, as large as life and twice as beautiful. She was telling everyone to stay tuned because they were going back over to Alfie’s any minute now for a press conference. Seth turned back to the black kid.
‘You were saying?’
‘The daughter’s name was Patricia Marley. She was born and raised in Twin Falls, and moved to LA because she got a scholarship at UCLA.’
Seth put his hand up and the kid ground to a halt. ‘Please get to the good bit before I die of boredom.’
‘Patricia Marley dropped out of college in her second year to become an actress. Things didn’t work out as she’d planned and she ended up on the streets working as a prostitute.’
‘And that’s when she got hooked on drugs?’
The kid nodded.
‘And that’s where LA Abuse comes into the story. She went to them because she wanted to get clean. So what happened?’
The kid smiled. ‘That’s where things get really interesting.’
16
Sabrina. JJ remembered a long-ago early morning phone call, and a chill rode through her. She glanced over at Ed Richards. The actor looked completely panicked. She stared down at the parquet flooring. The lines and the patterns mesmerised her. The scratches were fascinating. She was trying hard not to look at the smears of blood. Trying and failing. Marley was at the edge of her peripheral vision, studying her, his head cocked a little to the right. The scar tissue on his cheek was shining softly in the restaurant’s subdued mood lighting.
‘Judging by the startled rabbit expressions, I’m guessing you remember Sabrina,’ he said.
JJ didn’t respond. She glanced at Richards again. Panic had given way to fear. His hands were shaking and he was trembling from head to toe. If she could see herself in a mirror, she’d no doubt see the same expression of disbelief and horror. She’d wanted to know what motivated Marley, and now that she knew, she was desperate to unlearn that knowledge.
‘So, what was the value of Sabrina’s life? What price do you put on a drug addict who sells her body to pay for her addiction?’
Marley looked over at Kevin Donahue’s body. The producer looked as grey and pallid in death as he’d looked in life.
‘That one doesn’t run to three million bucks, that’s for damn sure. You know, I’d almost given up on getting the two of you here together. What with your busy schedules and all. But I waited, and I told myself to be patient. Now, that’s something I excel at. I have more patience than anyone you’ll ever meet. Steady hands and plenty of patience.’
Marley’s laughter sounded all wrong in the forced stillness of Alfie’s. It bounced off the walls, displacing the silence. Richards’ head jerked up, He was looking more terrified than ever. And no wonder. He’d seen what Marley had done to Hayward and Donahue and all the others. That had been bad, but how much worse could it get? This was now personal, and that changed everything.
‘Every Sunday I’d hack into Alfie’s booking system, and every Sunday I’d end up disappointed. Jody, you weren’t too much of a problem, what with you being a regular. But Ed here was another matter altogether. I suppose that’s the thing with being the big shot movie star. You’re always jetting off somewhere or other on your private plane, never staying in one place too long.’
Marley smiled, then sighed.
‘A month ago you missed each other by seven hours. Jody, you were booked in for a one o’clock lunch, and, Ed, you were booked in for an eight o’clock dinner. Seven lousy hours. You have no idea how pissed I was about that one. And the thing is it had to be Alfie’s. Strategically speaking this place is about as perfect as you’re going to get. The lack of windows makes it ideal for holding hostages. It’s like a prison. Then there’s the fact that there’s no way for a sharpshooter to draw a bead on me. The cops and feds must be driving themselves crazy out there. Like I say, it’s just about perfect.’
He paused again. ‘Anyway, I got over myself and went back to waiting. But now the doubts were creeping in. The longer this went on, the more convinced I was that I’d never get you both together at the same time. It was getting to the point where I thought I was going to have to choose between you. But I told myself to be patient, and do you know something? It’s true what they say. Everything does come to those who wait.’ Marley gestured like a principal actor acknowledging his supporting cast. His arms flowed outwards and his head dipped in mock respect. ‘So I waited and waited and here we all are. You know, the three of us have lots to talk about.’
JJ just sat very still and stared at the floor. Voices whispered through her head. Echoes of memories past.
‘You’re really that good?’
‘For your sake, you better hope I am.’
17
‘You’re going to love this,’ the black kid said.
‘And you’re really starting to piss me off,’ Seth replied. Mission Control had gone very still. All eyes were on the black kid and he was just lapping up the attention.
‘Marley’s daughter went to LA Abuse a couple of times to get clean. The problem is that their success rate isn’t brilliant. For every person who stays clean, another dozen relapse. It’s not the charity’s fault, it’s a sociological issue.’
Seth put his hand up and the kid stopped in mid-flow. ‘Get to the point, and fast.’
‘The daughter’s last client was Ed Richards.’
‘You mean she was that hooker? And you’re only thinking to mention this now?’
The kid nodded.
Seth didn’t need him to expand. Everyone knew about that hooker. You could be living in an igloo in the Arctic and you’d still know. The story was massive. Hollywood’s number one actor had been found in a sleazy motel with a dead hooker and a load of cocaine. To top things off there was even a blurry photograph of Richards using a straw to blow coke up the hooker’s ass. As stories went, it didn’t get much better, or bigger. The scandal had almost destroyed Richards. The only reason it hadn’t was because Hollywood could be incredibly forgiving when it came to its royalty, particularly when they made as much money as Ed Richards.
After the story broke Richards’ people had gone on a massive PR offensive. Whoever was in charge of the damage limitation had done an incredible job. Richards had begged forgiveness through the media, his wife and kids standing loyally at his side. It had all been a massive lapse of judgement. A one-off. He had never done anything like this before, and he’d never, ever make the same mistakes again. He’d gone to rehab, and promised to be a good boy in future. It had been the performance of his career. It had needed to be.
The dead hooker hadn’t fared so well. After all, she was just another dead prostitute. She’d basically ended up as a postscript to the story, a minor detail. Hollywood might treat its megastars with the utmost reverence, but everyone else was there to be chewed up and spat out.
Except that was all about to change. Marley’s daughter was going to become a very big deal indeed.
Seth’s mind was racing. He was projecting twenty moves into the future, searching for the endgame. This could destroy Richards. The death of a hooker w
as one thing. That was forgivable. Being responsible for the deaths of some of Hollywood’s top people was a whole different matter. From this moment on, whenever anyone thought about Ed Richards they’d think about what had happened at Alfie’s. Something clicked inside Seth’s head. He scrambled through the loose sheets of paper littering his desk until he found the hostage list. The name he was looking for was right down at the bottom.
‘Okay,’ he called out. ‘I want one of you jokers to confirm that Jody Johnson handled the publicity when Ed Richards got caught with his dick hanging out his pants.’
Thirty seconds later he had his answer. This time it was the Asian kid who came up with the goods. Yes, Brightlight had handled that story. And, yes, the person who’d made sure those plates kept spinning was none other than Jody “JJ” Johnson. Seth grinned to himself. He finally had an answer to the question that had been bugging him pretty much from the start. Why? It was all about revenge. Nothing more, nothing less. And that story was as old as time itself.
The black kid was talking again, but Seth wasn’t listening. He reached for his cigarettes, remembered the pack was empty, and cursed loud enough to make everyone in the room jump.
‘Anyone got a smoke?’ he shouted.
‘I’ve got some,’ one of the techs called back.
The tech fished out a pack of Lucky Strikes and tossed them over. Seth caught the pack one-handed, lit a cigarette, then rocked back in his chair. He closed his eyes to block out any distractions and thought about what he’d just learnt. Then he took a long drag and thought about how he could use it to his advantage.
18
‘Please tell me that you guys are going to get me out soon?’ King said quietly.
‘We’re working on it, buddy,’ Carter replied.
‘You said that last time we spoke.’
‘Just hang on in there. We are going to get you out. That’s a promise. Just sit tight, okay?’
‘You said that, too. Come on, Brad, I need to see some action from you guys. And soon. I’m going insane here.’
‘No you’re not, Alex. On the contrary, we were just talking about how well you’re holding it together.’
‘And you sound like a director who’s trying to get his lead actress back on set after she’s had a meltdown.’
The FBI guy’s laughter filled his ear. ‘Seriously, buddy, you’re doing great. Better than great.’
King didn’t respond. There was nothing to say that hadn’t already been said. He leant back against the door. The unlocked door. Being this close to freedom was too much. He shut his eyes and rubbed at his temples. The combination of stress and the bright kitchen lights was conspiring to give him a headache. He rubbed harder, willing his headache away, and wished he had some Tylenol.
A sudden, excruciating pain shot through his left thigh. It felt like someone had grabbed hold of the muscle and twisted it through a full 360 degrees. He’d had cramp before, but nothing like this. The pain was unbelievable. King shot to his feet and the muscle pulled even tighter. He rubbed frantically at his leg. All he wanted was to get away from the pain, but no matter what he did, it was still there.
‘Hey, buddy, you okay?’
King couldn’t answer because all the air had been stolen from his lungs. He rubbed harder, but still couldn’t find any relief. In desperation he started hopping across the kitchen, figuring that moving around might help. It didn’t. If anything, it made things worse. He swung to the left and his elbow clipped a pan on the centre island. For a long, stretched-out moment it teetered on the edge, rocking and rattling, then gravity took over and it tumbled to the floor. King lunged and almost caught it. His fingers brushed against copper, and then the pan hit the tiles with a clatter that was louder than a nuclear blast.
19
‘What the hell was that?’
Marley’s head snapped towards the bottom level of the restaurant. He was staring at the wall that separated the main room from the corridor like he could see through it. JJ had heard the noise, too. Everyone had heard it.
‘Something you want to share?’ Marley aimed the question squarely at Tony.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Marley held his arm up and pointed to the pulsing red heart. ‘See the way it’s flashing faster? This thing’s a pretty good lie detector, so let’s try again. Something you want to share?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Tony was staring at the floor and trembling all over. It was one of the bravest things JJ had seen. Brave but stupid. Marley would keep pushing until Tony gave up Alex King. That was an absolute certainty. The only real question was whether there would be one or two corpses joining those already littering the room.
Marley aimed the submachine gun at Tony’s head. ‘Third and final time. You were back there only a short while ago. I want to know who made that noise, and I want to know now.’
Tony said nothing.
‘When are you people going to realise that passive resistance just does not work?’
Marley let out a long, weary sigh, then shifted his aim a fraction to the right and squeezed the trigger. A bloom of red appeared on the left side of DeAndre Alexander’s chest, a momentary look of surprise filled his face, and then he toppled backwards and landed in Simone’s lap. The supermodel screamed, and tried to wriggle free. More screaming. More wriggling. The other hostages had moved out of the way, leaving a wide exclusion zone around her.
Marley aimed at her head. ‘Shush now, honey.’
‘Alex King,’ she whispered.
‘What did you just say, sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch that.’
‘Alex King is in the restrooms.’
‘And you know this how?’
‘Because he was my date. He went to use them just before you came in.’
Silence. The watch was flashing at a hundred and eight beats a minute. A second later it jumped to a hundred and thirteen. ‘I don’t remember seeing Alex King’s name on the reservations list.’
‘That’s because it wasn’t on there,’ JJ said. ‘He was here with Simone. For some reason their names didn’t make it to the list. I asked Tony to squeeze in an extra table for them. It was a publicity stunt. I’d arranged for them to be photographed together when they drove away from the restaurant.’
Marley looked at Simone. ‘Is this right?’
The model nodded.
‘Okay, let me get this straight. For the last three hours you’ve known that Alex King was hiding back there and you’re only telling me now. Did God really make you as dumb as you are pretty?’
‘I’m sorry. I should have said something.’
‘Yes, you should have.’
Marley squeezed the trigger.
20
The pan rattled to a standstill and King just stared at it. The cramp was starting to ease, adrenalin masking the worst of the pain.
‘Alex, buddy, you okay?’ All the cool was gone from Brad Carter’s voice.
‘Not really.’
‘What was that noise?’
‘I knocked a pan over.’
‘Okay, don’t panic. We’ll think of something. Just hang on in there, okay?’
King actually felt calmer than he’d felt since this all kicked off. The back door was right in front of him. He had no recollection of walking over to it. Nor did he have any recollection of reaching for the handle.
21
‘Something’s going down,’ Tara said.
Rob looked up from his cell phone and saw she was right. Everyone was suddenly moving with more purpose. The cops, the FBI, the SWAT guys. There was a buzz in the air that hadn’t been there a couple of seconds ago. Tara was already on the move, adjusting her camera as she ran. She covered the hundred yards to Alfie’s parking lot in less than twenty seconds. By the time Rob came skidding to a halt beside her, the camera was already aimed at the restaurant. She thrust a microphone into his hand.
‘The kitchen door,’ she said.
Rob looked over. At first he couldn’t see anything because the sun was in his eyes. He put his hand up to his forehead and could just about make out a figure pressed against the grille. It could have been a ghost or a mirage, but he knew it wasn’t.
‘Jesus. Is that Alex King?’
‘One and the same.’
‘This is not good.’
‘Okay, Rob, find those happy thoughts. I need you to start talking right now. It’s time to do your thing.’
22
Alex King stood with his nose almost touching the grille. He wanted to push against it, anything to get closer to freedom, but the metal was too hot. The sunlight shining against the grille painted bright bars on his skin and clothes. It was like being in prison. He inhaled deeply and his nose filled with the hot blacktop smell of summer, a smell that reminded him of his Ohio childhood. Back then, he’d spent his days dreaming of escape. All these years later and he was dreaming much the same thing.
‘Alex, buddy, you need to get back inside and close the door.’
King took another deep breath. Beneath the smell of hot tar was the traffic stink of gasoline, and beyond that smell was the soft aroma of a city baked under a hot sun.
‘Alex! Please get back inside now! You’ve got to hide.’
But that was the problem. There was nowhere to hide. The FBI guy just didn’t get it, and King couldn’t be bothered to explain. Life was too short. His life was too short. He could taste freedom in the hot air. It was so close. He glanced up and imagined that the slice of blue he could see went on for ever. An endless sky. The idea appealed to him because the only thing his future held right now were endings.
Footsteps in the corridor. This was it. He didn’t want to die, but if that’s what was going to happen, he wanted his last breath to taste of freedom and his last view to be a blue-sky view.