by Rob Ashman
Moran grabbed Harper by the arm.
‘Come on,’ she said as they hurried for the door. Harper was limping. He stopped to retrieve his gun.
They walked along the back road and cut through onto Second Street, where Moran’s car was waiting.
They piled in and pulled away.
‘Thank you,’ Harper said. ‘You saved my life.’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘How did you know I was there? And how did you know I was in trouble?’
‘I’ll tell you later, but right now we gotta get out of here.’
41
Harper squirmed in the passenger seat trying to get comfortable while Moran powered through the streets to get home.
‘You were really something back there,’ he said.
‘Yeah, I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way.’
‘It would have been simplest to use your gun and start popping away.’
‘Yes, and that would have brought the whole of the LVPD down on our heads. And we were having enough trouble with two of Bonelli’s boys. We didn’t need more.’
‘Yeah, that’s easy to say. But when you’re faced with a situation like that it takes balls not to use it.’
‘I don’t have balls.’
‘Yes, you do.’
Moran continued to fill Harper in on her theory that Mills was bent. They had to get a message to Lucas fast to stop him travelling back to Vegas.
Moran opened her front door and scurried to the bedroom to fill a bag with clothes and toiletries. Harper called the apartment they had stayed in while at the Gaslamp District. Lucas was staying there but was out. Harper left an urgent message with the switchboard telling Lucas to stay put.
Their strategy was simple. Vegas was too dangerous and they needed to move out fast. The logical place to go was San Diego. At least there they had the opportunity to continue to track down Mechanic, even if that had proved unsuccessful the last time.
‘Ready,’ Moran said appearing in the hallway with two bags.
They had one more stop to make before heading south. A small matter of collecting twenty thousand dollars in a black Puma sports bag.
While in San Diego, Lucas, Harper and Moran spent their time scouting for Mechanic. Harper and Lucas trawled the gyms and Moran ran around the parks and boardwalks like a mad woman. Despite their best efforts, Mechanic eluded them. Not surprising, as she was three hundred and thirty miles away in Vegas, finalising preparations. Things were going well.
The days passed quickly.
They practised the operation to take out Mechanic until they saw it in their sleep. A local park was the ideal location to test out the radios, though they ran the gauntlet of a thousand disapproving glances from parents playing with their children, concerned at the spectacle of three adults playing games with walkie-talkies.
They discussed what to do with Mechanic’s body and reached the unanimous conclusion that leaving it on the roof for the police to find was the best option. A lone sniper shot through the head on a rooftop had the all hallmarks of a gangland killing. A useful diversion.
Harper cruised by Jameson’s place on numerous occasions to check it out, but each time the house was deserted. He was tempted to stop and take a closer look, but there was nothing to be gained by spooking Jameson and maybe getting his ass kicked in the process.
Moran decided the best approach was for them all to stop over in Henderson the night before, the second biggest city in Nevada. It lay sixteen miles southeast of Vegas within easy striking distance of the Jackpot motel, and more importantly was outside of Bonelli’s jurisdiction. They were less likely to run into any of his guys there.
Moran booked three rooms for one night.
It was 9am, Thursday.
They checked their equipment for the hundredth time, hauled their gear into the cars and set off. Harper fished around in his jacket pocket and pulled out an oblong package.
‘I bought you a present,’ he said placing it on the dashboard.
Lucas had one eye on the road and the other on the gift. It was in a brown paper bag and wound with packing tape, Harper’s version of gift wrapping. Lucas grabbed it.
‘What is it?’
‘Open it and find out.’
Lucas put it in his lap and tore at the paper with one hand while steering with the other. He struggled, but after much scraping and cursing he got it open.
‘It’s a camera?’ Lucas said holding it up.
‘Yes, one of those Polaroid things.’
Lucas looked across at Harper and frowned.
‘You said you wanted to videotape the life draining from Mechanic’s eyes, so you could watch it over and over again.’
‘I remember.’
‘Well, a video camera was too big to wrap. So I got you this.’
7.30am, Friday.
Lucas, Moran and Harper drove to the Jackpot motel in two cars. The traffic was heavy but moving as the rush hour took hold. They travelled bumper to bumper away from Henderson on the 508 until they hit Las Vegas Boulevard. A sharp right brought them to the junction with Bonanza Road. The motel was further along on the left.
Moran pulled into a slot at the side of the building, while Lucas nosed his car into a residential side street a hundred yards away. None of them had woken early that morning because none of them had slept a wink.
Harper checked his kit. It was all in order. He pulled the door handle, Lucas placed his hand on his arm.
‘Good luck.’
Harper smiled and stepped out, closing the door. Lucas watched him turn the corner and walk out of sight.
Lucas waited ten minutes then followed him. Thirty yards to the left of reception was a small green area with ornamental trees and bushes. Lucas settled himself amongst them and pulled out his binoculars. From his position he had the perfect angle to watch the back of the motel and also keep an eye on the traffic entering and leaving the lot.
He could see Moran disappear over the lip of the building onto the roof. Harper was halfway up the ladder.
Five minutes later Lucas heard a squelch on his intercom. They were in position. Now it was a waiting game.
Harper and Moran sat on the floor behind separate electrical cabinets. Moran had her gun beside her and was staring into space, blocking everything from her brain. Harper fiddled with his gun and ate chocolate.
The morning was brightening up as the sun rose. It was clear with a slight breath of wind. Mechanic’s preparation time would be minimal. No cross wind to adjust for, just set it up and bang.
Lucas watched as people left the motel and headed for their cars with suitcases and bags. New staff arrived dressed in blue coveralls. A truck delivered fresh laundry in wire cages and took away the dirty stuff. A small van dropped off cases of bottled water.
Lucas looked at his watch. It was nine thirty.
He saw the white roof of a van drift into the parking lot. The rest of the vehicle was obscured by cars. It parked up and the driver’s door opened. Lucas saw a head emerge wearing a blue baseball cap. The head moved around the van and slid open the side door.
The person disappeared for a second then rattled the door across and walked to the front. Lucas stared through his binoculars and held his breath.
Shit! It was Mechanic.
Even with the peak pulled down, Lucas was in no doubt. It was her.
Lucas felt a shudder run through his body.
Mechanic wore a tight green fleece and khaki pants, she had a long thin black backpack slung over one shoulder. She looked around and walked to the back of the building.
Lucas pressed the talk button.
Moran and Harper jumped as their radios emitted a squelch. Fuck, this is it.
They both gripped their guns, got up from their sitting positions and crouched down, their heart rates climbing rapidly.
Moran strained to hear the ladder creak as Mechanic made her way up, but all she could hear was the soft breeze. Harper had his back pressed against the meta
l, fighting the temptation to take a look over the top.
The minutes ticked by.
Harper looked at his watch, nine forty.
Moran was shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
The minutes ticked by.
What the hell was keeping her? Harper thought.
His watch said nine forty-seven. There was still no sign of her.
This was not allowing enough time for Mechanic to set up her rifle, calm her breathing, lower her heart rate and get in the zone.
Something was wrong.
He peeked around the metal box and broke cover. He ran to where Moran was hiding.
‘I think she must be in one of the rooms beneath us.’
‘She’s not here, that’s for sure. It’s the only other place.’
They both left the security of the switchgear cabinet and ran to the edge.
Moran jerked her weapon over the side and pointed it down the ladder. It was clear. She stepped over the wall and started to climb down, closely followed by Harper.
They reached the bottom.
It was nine fifty-one.
Moran took the left-hand side and Harper took the right. They ran up the stairs to the outside walkway on the third floor. Moran could see Harper looking into every window with his gun levelled as he traversed towards her. A woman came out of a room dragging a heavy case.
Shit, that was close!
Harper and Moran held their guns behind their backs and kept moving. Harper passed the woman and walked on.
Some rooms had their curtains closed while others were wide open.
Moran and Harper kept checking.
They met in the middle.
‘Nothing.’ Moran looked at her watch: 9.58.
Harper took out his field glasses and trained them on the back of the Mint. The grey metal partition was pulled across to the side and the black SUV was already easing its way into the slot.
‘Bonelli is in place.’
‘Where the fuck is she?’ Moran said.
Bonelli’s head appeared.
Moran ran past Harper looking through the motel windows.
Harper counted down.
One.
The man acknowledged Bonelli with a nod of his head and closed the door.
Two.
The front doors opened and two men got out.
Three.
Bonelli walked along the side of the SUV.
Four.
The entourage marched to the apex of the triangle.
Five.
One man opened the service door and moved to the side.
Six.
Bonelli stepped through the gap and was gone.
‘Fuck,’ Harper said.
‘What the hell just happened?’
Harper pressed the button on his walkie-talkie.
‘She is a no-show. Repeat, she is a no-show.’
They marched across the front of the motel, down the central stairwell and over to reception.
Moran was half-expecting to see Lucas walking towards them, but he wasn’t. They were ten yards away from the place where he had been hiding but they couldn’t see him.
Harper broke into a run and reached the small green area. The grass was pressed flat to the ground where he had been sitting, but there was no Lucas.
‘Lucas, come in please,’ Moran said into her radio.
They heard the crackling sound of her voice coming back at them. Harper swung around and switched his radio off.
‘Do it again.’
‘Lucas, can you come in please.’
The metallic voice was emanating from a set of bushes six feet away.
Harper stomped around and found the radio lying in the grass.
Moran joined him.
‘What in hell’s name are these?’ she asked.
She picked up a handful of small white paper squares.
Harper stared at them. His eyes filled up.
‘They’re sugar packets. Mechanic has taken Lucas.’
42
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ Harper stomped around in the bushes.
‘Stop it, Harper. Think, man, think,’ replied Moran.
‘She must have been here, right? Lucas buzzed us to say she was here.’ He continued stomping.
‘But then we heard nothing.’
‘He must have had eyes on Mechanic. How the fuck could she walk nearly thirty yards towards him without Lucas raising the alarm?’
‘She must have grabbed him. He should have shot her, that’s what he should have done.’
‘Maybe it wasn’t her,’ said Harper.
‘If anyone would be able to positively ID Mechanic it was Lucas. It was her alright.’
‘No, I mean maybe it wasn’t her that took Lucas.’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Lucas spots Mechanic and buzzes us to say she’s here. Then while he has his eyes focused on her, someone whacks him and takes him away.’
‘You wait in my car.’ Moran tossed Harper the keys and ran in the direction of the reception block.
Moran burst through the doors.
The young man with his hormones on fire looked up.
‘Hi, good to see you again.’
‘I need you to help me.’
‘Why of course, ma’am, what is it?’
‘I’ve got a delicate situation.’
The guy’s eyes widened. ‘They are my favourite type.’
‘My car has gone missing from the parking lot.’
‘Oh that is terrible, ma’am, have you called the cops?’
‘No, no, I haven’t.’
‘Do you want me to call them?’
‘No, no.’
‘But your car has been stolen, right?’
Moran gestured for the young guy to lean in. She whispered in his ear.
‘It’s embarrassing, I’m not supposed to be here.’
‘What? How do you mean?’
‘I’m not supposed to be in this motel.’
The young man stared at her with a look that said ‘I’m enjoying this, but please make sense, ma’am’. Then it all made sense.
‘You mean you are supposed to be somewhere else?’
‘Yes, I met a man here.’
‘And this man was not your husband or boyfriend?’
‘No, he wasn’t. And now my car has gone.’
The young guy nodded as though the situation she’d described was an everyday occurrence.
‘But if it has been stolen you will need to report it.’
‘It might not have been stolen.’
The boy was back to being confused.
‘My boyfriend may have taken it. Before I go and call the police I need to know if it’s him.’
‘And why do you think it could be your boyfriend?’
‘He’s done it before. You know, to teach me a lesson.’
The young guy raised an eyebrow, pleased that he’d been right all along – this woman was well up for sex.
‘How can I help?’
‘You have CCTV covering the parking lot?’
‘Yes, we do, but not at the side.’
‘Could you let me see the recording? That way I will know if it’s him or if I need to contact the police.’
‘Well, I suppose I could—’
‘Please, I would be so grateful,’ Moran interrupted.
The young man gave her a theatrical wink.
‘Step right this way, ma’am.’
He swung open a hatch and beckoned her in. The TV monitor she’d seen previously was on the desk at the back. She squeezed herself between him and the counter. She felt his body tense.
‘Where were you parked, ma’am?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What car were you driving?’
Moran scanned the screen. ‘Er, a blue one?’
‘What make and model?’
‘I don’t know.’
She berated herself for having just substantiated the stereotype of women and cars
.
‘Can you wind the tape back?’ she said.
‘What am I looking for?’
‘I’ll know the car when I see it.’
The guy opened a cupboard on the wall above the desk and Moran saw the tape machine.
He pushed the reverse button.
The figures on the screen moved around like a Harold Lloyd movie, cars and trucks whizzing in, cars and trucks whizzing out.
He kept his finger on the button. Moran kept her eyes on the screen.
After fifteen seconds she said, ‘Stop.’
‘There.’ She pointed to a man getting into a blue car. ‘Let me do this.’
Moran shouldered him out of the way and took control of the video recorder.
‘Is that your boyfriend?’ asked the young man, his hip brushing against hers. Moran kept her cool, when all she wanted to do was deck him and take the tape.
‘Yes, it’s my boyfriend.’
The car backed out of a space and drove away.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’
The guy looked at the grainy figure on the screen. A sixty-year-old man with thinning hair and a beer gut was not what he was expecting. But Moran wasn’t looking at the man or the car, she was focused on the white van.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Can I take this?’
She pushed the eject button and the cassette tape slid out into her hand.
‘Er, no ma’am, you can’t take that.’
She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned against him.
‘I would be ever so grateful.’
He went weak at the knees.
Moran hurried from the reception, leaving the young guy wondering when he would get his reward. She jumped in the driver’s seat next to Harper.
‘Mechanic bundled Lucas into a white Ford Transit. The time stamp said 9.39.’
‘Shit, they’ve been gone forty minutes. How did he look?’
‘Not good, like he was drunk.’
Moran swung the car around and drove to the parking lot at the back.
‘There’s another thing.’
‘What.’
‘Mechanic had someone with her, a man.’
She continued to cruise around.
‘What did he look like?’