by David Dun
Jack Morgan lived in a two-story yellow farmhouse with gables and a steep-pitched roof. When Corey arrived at the front door, the bearded, balding grower greeted her but didn't invite her in. A short, rail-thin man, Jack Morgan glanced around nervously, obviously not wanting anyone to see him with Corey Schneider.
''Hang loose,'' said Corey. ''You got a tick up your dick? You think there's guys hidin' in the bushes?"
"Let's go out back." Jack led Corey around the back of the house and into a large barn. There he seemed to relax. Reeking of hay and livestock, the place felt like a real farm. Jack stopped just inside the door, near a stack of gray fifty-five-gallon drums marked diesel. They looked military. "I've got workers coming and going-I don't want them spreading rumors I talk to you. There should be no connection between you, me, and that property."
"Fine by me."
"So why did you come?"
"Well, it's like this. You owe me thirty thousand including interest and haven't paid me back. Furthermore, you have ten thousand in rent coming due."
"Two of my places got raided. It's only a couple of months till the crop comes in. I borrowed the money for planting. You know that."
"You're late, Jack."
"I don't have it. Spent it on lawyers after the raid. They got the pot and my lawyers got what money I had."
"Fortunately for you, I have a way you can work your way out of this. Somebody will pay you the forty grand you need to pay me."
Jack eyed her suspiciously. ''I can pay you the forty grand after the harvest. I thought you understood that."
"I need the money now. I have a plan I'm working on, and you're going to help me. One Maria Fischer has gone over to the other side, and you are going to help me detain her and ask her a few questions."
''I don't know, Corey. I gotta keep a kinda low profile out here, you know? I don't know that I wanna get involved."
"Way I see it, Jack, you don't have much choice. Cops could find out about this place in a hurry, for sure."
"But I'm on your land too."
"They don't have to find out about that. And even if, for whatever reason, you are dumb enough to tell them about my place over by the South Fork, I never go there. So I rent you some property. I'm not responsible for anything illegal you have going on, am I?"
"They could take your land."
"Oh sure, after they take your farm and put you and your family behind bars."
"You'd do that?"
"Damn right, Jack."
Jack looked torn.
"I saw Otran's mouthpiece go into Maria Fischer's room at the Palmer Inn. I know the right-thinking people in this movement might care if their all-star, troublemakin' bitch is in heat for the Otran guy."
Jack grinned despite himself. "Hard to imagine two lawyers who don't want to screw each other, though."
"And the rest of us too," Corey added. "Anyway, here's how I have it figured. Why don't we get her out here, and use a little persuasion to get her to tell her story on tape? I know she's been taking big money from the timber industry."
"No lie?"
"Believe me, I know it."
"The law will try to do something, but there won't be a lot of heat. If we're careful, they won't catch us."
"Are you nuts, man? We'll go to jail, and they'll throw away the key," Jack retorted.
"They won't know who did it."
"Leave me out of this one. This is way over my head."
"I need your help," Corey said.
"I don't know, Corey. This just isn't for me."
"You can skip two ten-thousand payments when we pull this off. That's not insignificant. On top of that, you get five extra acres of good ground, with water, for the same money you pay now."
Jack frowned and shook his head. "No, I just don't think so."
Slowly he looked into Corey's eyes. She knew that what he saw there scared the hell out of him, causing him to back away tentatively. With her right hand Corey drew her army. 45 from the back of her pants and moved with him, step for step, the gun inches from Jack's chest. With her left she pulled a Taser stun gun. "I know you pretty well, Jack. I figured that would be your reaction."
"Take it easy, Corey. You and I both know you aren't going to shoot me."
Corey made it a point to smile her crazy smile.
There was a snapping sound and Jack grabbed his chest as he fell backward.
Effortlessly Corey rolled him over and put plastic tie-wraps on his wrists, pinning his hands behind his back. From her pocket she removed a black hood, then sat on the floor holding Jack's head in her lap. In a moment he became coherent.
"What are you gonna do?"
She put the hood over his face.
"Don't hurt me."
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
"I'll do whatever you say."
"You don't sound convincing, Jack." She shoved a can of pepper spray under the hood and released a two-second squirt.
Jack convulsed and gasped with a convincing death rattle. She removed the hood.
"Now don't fight me, Jack. We're just going to have a little talk."
Corey scanned the barn. She grabbed a line hanging from the rafters, probably for hanging deer or a slaughtered cow. Quickly she fashioned a noose, then put it over Jack's head and pulled until he was lifted up on his knees. The noose was tight, but not choking him completely. Next she located two concrete blocks and had Jack stand with one foot on each. Adjusting the rope so that Jack would hang himself if he moved from the blocks, Corey stood back.
"We need to have a discussion. It's tough for a woman to convince a man that she's the big dog. I could fix that by making you not a man, Jack."
"I'll do anything you want," said Jack.
"Oh no, Jack, it's not going to be that easy. You'll tell me whatever I want to hear, then welsh later-maybe shoot me in the back. No, I want real sincerity."
"I said I would help."
"Great. But first, you have to watch my show." With that, Corey walked out of the barn. When she returned from the van, she held a small TV with a built-in VCR. Hanging about the barn were light sockets on the ends of insulated electrical cord. Cobwebs made a ghostly skein around each wire. One of them had a plug-in, in place of a light. Inserting the plug to the television, she turned it on and pressed play. It was a narrated video, complete with background music, featuring Jack's pot gardens, showing their locations and Jack at work with his wife, his son, and the hired help.
''If something happens to me, this tape goes to the cops- and, Jack, you and your wife will go down for at least five years. There's a note with the tape explaining exactly why it was made-you threatened to kill me if I didn't let you grow on my property. If I die under strange circumstances, the cops will get the tape."
"OK, so let me down."
"We haven't made a bargain yet. You can skip two payments on the land, and I'll give you an additional five acres for twenty thousand per year, two ten-thousand payments. Pretty good, huh, Jack?"
"Sounds fine to me."
"You're still not sincere, Jack. I can read your mind. You're still thinking maybe there's some way out of this."
"No, Corey, I swear; I'm willing to do it."
"Good. We'll celebrate over dinner."
Again, Corey turned and walked out of the barn. This time she returned carrying a frying pan, a small torch, and a day pack. Suddenly Jack began to sweat.
Corey lit the burner and poured oil in the frying pan. "You haven't asked me what's for dinner."
Jack's jaw began to quiver. He swallowed hard. Corey began unlacing his boots. She pulled them off one at a time, then his white socks.
"I'm gonna fry your feet." With that, she spooned up a drop of hot oil and dropped it on his foot. He spasmed, kicked the blocks out, and began choking. Wildly he struggled, then tried to find his footing. She let him hang until he started passing out; then she lifted him and got his feet back on the blocks.
"Oh God, Corey, don't-I promise I
'll help," he choked out.
Corey took out her alcohol and put it on the burn.
"And again," she said, this time scooping up a whole teaspoon of oil, "don't jump around so much or you'll hang yourself."
"No!" Jack shrieked, causing Corey to kick the blocks from under his feet to quiet him. She never had a chance to use the oil. Jack began to choke, turning blue as the rope cut at his neck. Corey waited twenty seconds, then replaced the blocks.
When Jack had more or less recovered, Corey spoke. "The problem is, Jack, you won't really believe I'd do it unless I actually fry one of these feet." She paused. "You notice I'm being real sanitary about this. I've got the right antibiotics. Your old lady can nurse you. She'll keep it from getting infected."
''Corey, I swear to God I'll help you with Maria Fischer- please."
She waited a suitable time. "I think you believe me."
She untied Jack and packed up her things. "Jack, you and I have a perfect understanding-right?"
Jack lay on the floor, rubbing his badly bruised neck with one hand and gripping his burned foot with the other.
"Absolutely."
"Just remember. I'm a crazy bitch. Don't let your ego get in the way or you may go off to prison with burned feet and no balls. Lot of ramifications there, Jack. Lot of ramifications. And, Jack?"
"Yes?"
"You know absolutely that I would do it. You know I'm like that, don't you?"
"Not a doubt in my mind."
"Good then. We've made progress. Tomorrow you'll meet the German. I know you'll love him. We're going to build an interrogation room right here in your barn. We'll dismantle it when we're through with it. And I need you to take the van and have a few specialty items installed."
Groiter had a feeling and he couldn't shake it. Satoru was always pressing, always wanting to know. It felt like the walls of his world were moving ever closer and that each wall had its own set of prying eyes.
Groiter bought an airline ticket for the east coast under his own name. Took aside his most trusted guy, Barnes, and had him fake an ID. It was a California driver's license with Hans Groiter's license number and address but Barnes's face. It took some work but the man actually looked a lot like Groiter. Groiter boarded the airline while Barnes boarded the Amada corporate jet and was quite illegally not listed on the jet's log. When Groiter arrived in New York he immediately returned on the private jet. Barnes remained in New York regularly using the Groiter ID. Upon his return to San Francisco, Groiter immediately went to a small rural airport just outside of Santa Rosa. There he entered Mama's Cafe, a bustling little place where people waited in line to eat. It was a nondescript concrete-block building painted yellow and brown. It had a bad case of the uglies. Inside was better, with green plants everywhere, even in the rafters.
Something about walking through all the plants felt good. He liked his plan.
He entered the men's room in the very back of the place and opened the window. There was no screen. Not a hundred feet away, parked on the grass, was the helicopter he had ordered. Quickly, hoping he wouldn't be seen, he crawled out the window and jumped down in a small enclosure that stored the garbage cans and housed the air conditioner. It was an easy vault over the low wall and a quick walk to the helicopter. Hans could fly passably, and it was a sunny calm day.
Without filing a flight plan and with the transponder off, he flew below 1,000 feet for 200 miles to a strip in Fortuna, California, where he picked up the Spaniard, pulled fuel in cans from a hangar, and then flew to Jack Morgan's. Nobody but the Spaniard could put him anywhere near Palmer. Legitimate receipts would show that he checked into the Waldorf-Astoria in New York.
25
Maria and Dan were in the public library reviewing a Sunday-magazine newspaper insert article about the death of Catherine Swanson.
"I'm sure the body in the mine was the photographer, so we know he didn't kill her."
"It was a body without a head," Maria said.
"Clothing matches. He was skinny like the photographer."
"OK, I'll concede that. I think you should leave town for a while."
"No way."
After a short argument and a longer discussion, Dan changed the subject, explaining that he had to meet some clients the next day even though it was a Saturday.
"It's a bit of a problem," Dan said.
"Why's that?"
"Pepacita's going to visit her family. And worse yet, Nate was supposed to stay with his friend John Barge. Debbie Barge is great, but I'm reluctantly coming to the conclusion that her live-in boyfriend is into drugs. Now that Lynette's gone…"
"Are you working up to something?"
"Well, I'm in a bind."
"You know I'll do it," Maria said between bites of her tuna sandwich. "I just want you to ask, instead of sliding all around it."
''He's liable to have an attitude. The boyfriend was taking them for a ride in his drag boat."
"I can deal with it."
On the first floor of the castle, there was a large ceremonial room. History was prominently featured with swords and body armor from various eras, even equestrian armor, and all manner of ancient fighting implements. The floor of the long rectangular room was gleaming mahogany from a nearly extinct species. The walls were redwood and the ceiling Japanese white cedar. Functions for up to 200 could be held in this room.
Off of the ceremonial room lay a relatively small study. This room looked much more Western and prominently featured several large computer screens. Yoshinari sat in front of one such screen that displayed a detailed map of northern California. Shohei had just called by satellite phone. Groiter had disappeared at a Santa Rosa airport. Shortly after he entered a public eating establishment, a helicopter took off and Groiter could not thereafter be found.
Shohei could wait in San Francisco and collaborate with Satoru, or he could go to Palmer and wait. Yoshinari studied the map. There was nothing of great interest in San Francisco. Maria Fischer was from Sacramento. Dan Young was from Palmer. Kenji's laboratory was near Palmer and Corey Schneider was there as well.
"Go to Palmer. You have a radio that will monitor the police?"
"Yes."
"Use it. The pressure on Kenji is great. Groiter may do whatever he's working so hard to conceal at any moment. Let me know the minute you hear anything out of the ordinary."
"Ossu."
Yoshinari flirted with the idea of sending more men but thought better of it. More men meant greater risk of exposure. And Shohei was incredibly talented.
He dialed his daughter.
"Micha."
"Father," she said softly. "How wonderful to hear your voice."
"How are you, my daughter? Beautiful flower in my garden."
"I would love to see you and Mother."
"Maybe we will take that shiny plastic bubble of a thing and aim it at America."
"Father, it's a Gulfstream GV. Kenji envies you."
"Nothing but wires and metal. No beauty. But if it will take us to you, maybe there is something to be said for it."
"Something is on your mind."
"How did you know?"
"Mother comes on the line first when you are not worried."
Yoshinari smiled. His daughter was indeed observant. "How is Kenji?"
"He paces in the night. His teeth grind in his sleep."
"So what do you think is worrying him?"
"He keeps me far from his worries."
"Yes."
"And if I ask, he gets angry. So I don't ask."
"I see."
"How is my granddaughter?"
"She is well. You should come and see her. Already she paints like Mother. She has your love of the garden."
"I will come soon."
"Rest easily, Father. You will figure it out. You always do."
He hung up. For better or worse he had just told his daughter that he was very worried. Now she would be doubly alert. Turning off the screen, he rose to retire to his garden. And wa
it.
David Dun
At The Edge
Corey looked out the window of the study. Through a break in the overcast, a shaft of sunlight beamed through the shadows. Looking down at her glass-topped desk, she saw that both the sun and the clouds were reflected there in an interplay of gray and gold.
Sitting back in the oak chair, the straightness of it feeling good against her back, she focused her anger and reviewed the plan. Maria was supposedly in Palmer this afternoon and was to remain through the weekend. But that information had come from a fund-raiser who had talked to Maria's assistant; it was two days old. After thinking it over for a minute, Corey picked up the phone.
"Maria Fischer's legal assistant, please."
"This is John."
"John, this is Terry Hatcher. I'm an attorney and I'd like to consult with Maria Fischer. Will she be in this afternoon?"
"No, but she'll call for messages. Would you like her voice mail?"
"I'd like to talk with her in person. Where could I reach her tomorrow?"
"I can take your name and number and get back to you."
"Certainly. But you know, I was told she was going to be in Palmer tomorrow and I was hoping I might catch her there."
"I believe she will be in Palmer. If I could just take your number, I'll tell Maria you called."
"I'll be out. I'll have to call back."
The harlot and the pimp, she had taken to calling them. The phrase felt good and bolstered her determination. At the German's insistence the three of them were to have one more meeting before the big event. If Jack was nervous about her, he was incoherently frightened by the German. Now she was convinced Jack would put his heart into this thing to save himself. Wisely, he had sent his entire family to Mexico. These days he looked like a man who had seen his darkest moments, and when September brought this year's crop, she imagined he might move out of Nolo County altogether.