by S. Burke
“Why were you doing the menial task yourself?”
“I felt like a drive.”
“Eleven hundred miles is quite a drive, Ms Harrington. Who do you use to prepare the heads and antlers for preservation?”
“I do my own, taxidermy is my peculiar talent.”
“Do you own hunting knives?”
“I have a large collection. You can hardly run a hunting lodge without a full complement of weapons. Both guns and knives are essential.”
“You keep a detailed register of all guests and the length of time they stayed?”
“Please do not talk to me as if I am an imbecile, I don’t appreciate it. Just earn your exorbitant fee, and keep the police and feds away from me.”
“This is information I must have in order to defend you if you are arrested again.”
“Fine, ask my staff.”
Silence descended inside the vehicle, the woman averting her gaze and staring out the window. Abe Levine dropped the privacy screen and spoke to his driver. “Back to the house, Tobias.”
“Yes, sir.”
He said to the woman, “I need to make some important calls. Tobias will take you back to your vehicle, or would you prefer the airport? The car can be returned later.”
“Hire me a car; I’ll drive myself back for mine.”
“As you wish. You know they won’t give up on this. They will be watching you.”
She shrugged. “They have been since we left the city, counsellor. Don’t tell me you didn’t spot the tail?”
He hadn’t.
“He’s been on us since we left. I had hoped you’d be more on the ball, counsellor. Maybe I need to rethink who I have representing me.”
“Perhaps.”
“You have people I can rely on to protect my interests, I trust?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Call them. I don’t intend returning to the lodge. Not yet. I’ll shop for what I need and stay in a hotel for a while. My staff is utterly loyal and dedicated. They will handle everything at the lodge.”
“The ‘Bureau’ will question them.”
The woman laughed delightedly. “Oh, I would love to be a fly on the wall during those conversations.”
The man looked at her, waiting for an explanation, but she offered none, just sat primly in the passenger seat with her ankles crossed and her long elegant fingers occasionally flicking long dark hair behind her ears.
They reached his home without further conversation.
Once there, Sheila requested a drink; Martini, very dry.
The lawyer looked at his Rolex and was about to comment on the early hour, but the look on his new client’s face stopped him short. Christ, you’re a cold bitch. He kept his less than charitable thoughts to himself, gave the order for a jug of martini and served it on the balcony overlooking the pool.
Sheila’s cell phone rang. She stood and moved to the far end of the balcony before answering, “Yes?”
“Well done.”
She smiled. “They were convinced?”
“Utterly.”
“Excellent. And now?”
“Proceed as discussed. I will be in touch.”
“Understood.”
Sheila flipped the cell closed and returned. She poured a perfectly prepared Martini and silently toasted a job well done. She could hardly wait for her next instructions, the very thought of what was to come excited her.
In the meantime she needed to get back and remove her overnight bag from the van, check into her favourite hotel and change her clothes and then engage in a little retail therapy.
Mike awoke and wished he hadn’t. His head ached and his mouth was gritty and foul tasting. He sat up and hit his already pounding head on the overhead bunk. “What the fuck? What the fuck! What am I doing in a cell? Guard?”
The male guard headed in the direction of the bellowing voice, not happy at being the sap on duty when the big man came around. He approached wary and unwilling.
“Morning, sir.”
“This had better be fuckin’ good. Who did I kill? Cause if it’s anything less than that I am not gonna be a happy man!”
The guard fumbled with the keys, nervous and uncertain of what the protocol was. This had never happened before.
“Where are my fuckin’ shoes and my tie and belt? What the fuck is goin’ on?”
The guard swung open the cell door and stepped back hurriedly as the man flung himself out with his hand to his head and stormed off in the direction of the detectives’ room.
“I’m not paid enough for this shit,” he muttered, aiming the comment at the departing figure. “Fuck!”
The agents and uniformed officers heard Mike coming long before he burst through the door. “Holy shit,” muttered Lewinski, “I wouldn’t be in Trish’s high heels for anything.”
A murmur of agreement and a snicker or two greeted that observation.
Junior agent Lewinski whispered to his off-sider. “Go and find Clayton and the shrink, make it fast.”
The others kept their heads down, ignoring the sounds of the boss pounding around bare-footed in his office.
“LEWINSKI! Get in here now!”
“Oh, fuck. Why me?” Lewinski looked around for some sort of back up, but everyone avoided his gaze.
He stood and made his way to the commander’s office.
“I’m waiting!”
Lewinski entered the office and squared his shoulders as he did so. “Mike?”
“This had better be fuckin’ good, Lewinski. I’m waiting. Explain. Now!”
“Just followed orders, sir.”
“Whose orders?”
“My orders, Mike.” Trish Clayton spoke from the doorway. She stood there with Nigel Cantrell, holding a large coffee in her hand, which she placed on her superior’s desk. “Outside, Lewinski. Thanks.”
Lewinski flashed a grateful smile, exited fast, and returned to his desk with a muttered “poor bitch.”
“Talk to me, Trish,” snapped Mike. “Make it fast. I’m not a happy man.”
“I had you locked in a cell for your own protection, Mike.”
“My … what?”
“Sit down and shut up, Mike.”
“What did you say?”
“She said, sit down and shut up, Mike. You’re making a scene, and believe me that’s the last thing you need to be doing right now.” Dr Cantrell walked in and took a seat.
Trish followed his lead and pulled over another chair.
“Drink your coffee, Mike. Settle down; you are in no position to be demanding anything at this stage. So sit.”
The big man seemed confused. He looked at the faces of the man and woman facing him and sat. His demeanour remained ruffled and anger was clearly etched on his red face. “Talk to me, one of you.” He took the coffee and drained it.
Trish stood, opened the door and called out, “Coffee! And lots of it, please. Lewinski, rustle up food for the boss quick as you can, and grab his shoes and stuff from evidence, stat.”
Nigel Cantrell offered the big man a cigarette. Mike’s hands shook slightly as he took one. The doctor lit it for him. “Damn the rules for now,” he said, referring to the non-smoking policy. He lit himself one and Trish helped herself to the packet. “How much of what happened yesterday do you recall, Mike?”
“Yesterday? I don’t …” Mike put his hand to his head, searching for the connection he needed to the day before. He shook his head trying to clear the fog, “I can’t seem to …”
“Don’t sweat it. It’s not an unusual reaction. Mike, I need you to listen to me without interruption for a moment. Can you do that?”
“Go on, man, for fuck’s sake. Someone please explain to me what the fuck is happening here.”
“Do you recall the arrest of the female suspect in the ‘Countdown murders’?”
“Oh, my God … yes, yes! We have her. Dear God, of course. We have her.” His face lit up. “How could I have forgotten that?”
The psyc
hiatrist and the female cop exchanged a look that spoke volumes.
“We do have her? Don’t we … Trish?”
She was about to answer when the doctor interrupted. “Just listen, Mike. Do you remember punching out the Deputy Director?”
They watched his face as the memory surfaced. “Oh, sweet Jesus. I did. Didn’t I? Am I suspended?”
“No,” they both answered.
“Not yet, Mike!” Trish elaborated, watching his face for reaction. “Stay away from Henry or you will be. He knows you are needed now on this case.” She hesitated, looking at the doctor for a cue.
He nodded.
“Mike, she lawyered up. Big time. We had to let her go.”
“No! How could you? Are you fuckin’ insane, Trish? We had her! How could you let her go?” He levered up.
“Shut up! You fucked up, Mike. Now just keep your mouth shut, and sit.” Trish stood, red faced and furious. “Do you think you’re the only one who has invested his damned soul in this case? We all have, Mike. Every damned one of us, if you had bothered to notice. My marriage is over because of this. So are Arnie’s and Phillip’s. You are NOT the only one who needs to have this killer brought down, you selfish, self-involved bastard.”
The doctor stood and pounded on the desk to draw their attention. “You both need to be sitting. This is getting us nowhere. We need to focus, and we need to do it fast. I suggest we three go for a drive, away from here. Let’s get this sorted privately, unless you want the rest of the team to continue witnessing a fruitless slinging match between their superiors. Come on, Mike, get your shoes. We’ll talk away from here. Okay?”
Both the agents nodded. It made sense.
Mike went in search of his shoes and joined the other two outside. They climbed silently into an unmarked car and Nigel Cantrell drove off, heading out of the city.
They drove in silence for a long time, each busy with their own thoughts. Cantrell eventually pulled the vehicle into a large parking area on the edge of the water and they climbed out.
The doctor headed down to the water’s edge and sat, his legs stretched out in front of him. He lit a cigarette and drew in deeply. The two colleagues followed his lead.
“Who did she get? Court appointed attorney?” Mike asked.
“No, Mike. I wish I could tell you that, I really do. She hired herself the best,” Trish said.
“Oh, fuck me dead. Not Levine? Tell me she didn’t hire Levine, please.”
“Sorry, Mike. She’s obviously got plenty of money, or connections. He arrived with a writ of ‘habeas corpus’ and she was outta that place in ninety minutes flat. Not a fucking thing we could do. We didn’t have enough to hold her. I’ve already lodged the appeal. We have a little more information; she runs a hunting lodge in Arkansas, a big one, thousands of acres. Deer hunters, ducks and fishing when the deer season closes. The place is a goldmine. She easily afforded Levine.”
“Thousands of acres? Good place to dispose of bodies without leaving home, yes?”
“You got it.”
“Fuck! Any of our victims hold hunting licenses?”
Trish looked at him with admiration and had the grace to blush. “I haven’t checked. I’ll do it now.” She stood and hurried across to the car, made the call and returned quickly. “They’re on it. We’ll know soon.”
“How long ago did Levine spring her?”
Nigel Cantrell looked at his watch. “She’s been out for five hours now.”
“Did we put a tail on?”
“That I did do,” Trish said. “She left her vehicle in impound and drove off in Levine’s limo. The tail says she is at his mansion. Hasn’t budged since arriving.”
“That’s unusual for Levine. Did he call the press?”
“Not yet, Mike. But given his penchant for the front page, it won’t be long,” Trish muttered.
Mike turned his attention to the doctor hunched forward drawing with a stick in the soft soil of the river bank. “Doc, what the hell did you slip me last night, man? I know it must have been something. I never drink till I pass out. Ever. I thought you were a shrink. What’s with the available medication?”
“I gave you Rohypnol. I trained as a medical practitioner before my psyche studies. I needed you to sleep deep, without nightmares. It worked.”
“Yes, I’ll say it worked. Do that to me again and I’ll break your face. You understand?”
“If I hadn’t, Mike, you may well have done something even more stupid than punching Henry Weisman, although offhand I can’t think of anything that tops that for utter stupidity. I’d do it again given the same circumstances. This case is too important for you to go getting yourself suspended or worse. I’ve been asked to keep an eye on you. Think yourself lucky that you have a good team watching your back. You were acting like an irrational fool. A loose cannon. The Director will pull you off this case fast if you slip up again. You owe him and your team an apology. Do it and do it fast. There is work to do. I have been officially hired to work this case till we have a conviction, so we had all better get on together, and get on with it. Oh, and, Mike … if you should ever be tempted to break my face, you had better use maximum force. Rest assured that is how I will retaliate.”
The other man was about to say something, but wisely remained silent. Trish cast a weary glance at both of them. “What now?”
Mike spoke up, determined to recover lost ground. “I want someone to go into that hunting lodge, undercover. Trish, let’s get back. I need to access the files on our field agents. We’ll need a shooter. And given how clever this woman is, she’ll be expecting it. We need to find out who is booked into this place. If we can replace a person with a reservation already, so much the better.”
The other two nodded in silent agreement and they made their way back to the car.
The message came through from H.Q. that none of the victims appeared to have held hunting licenses.
Chapter 6
Sheila handed the SUV keys to the valet and made her way to her room.
There she made several telephone calls on a cell phone she’d purchased for just that purpose, ordered food and wine from room service and sat back and waited.
The call came and she made the arrangements, then relaxed, ate a luxurious lunch and left the room. Smiling, she noted the security cameras in the hallway as she made her way to the lift. Good. Perfect, in fact.
Sheila drove the short distance to the exclusive boutique district, parked the car, and entered the plush premises. Ah! Bless the crime rate, more cameras. She carefully selected a number of outfits and the accessories to match, entered the changing rooms and seated herself. She didn’t have to wait long. Shortly a manicured hand shoved a paper bag under the door; she removed the contents with a smile.
Forty five minutes later with all the purchases paid for, she exited, loaded with bags of expensive items. She placed them in the vehicle and then walked two blocks and entered a large department store, purchasing makeup and hairstyling products; again, on her credit card.
Glancing in the mirrors, trying on lipstick, she noting with satisfaction she had now picked up a female tail. Predictable as ever, stupid, and obvious. They made this almost too easy. She shopped at her leisure, purchasing shoes, scarves, sunglasses and an expensive selection of skin care products.
Two hours after she entered the department store, she exited and walked quickly back to the car. Again the purchases were loaded and with that she drove to her favourite bar in New York. She handed the keys to the attractive valet, and gracefully climbed from the vehicle and entered the welcoming, cool interior.
Sheila ordered a bottle of Moet and waited for the new tail to make an appearance. It took longer than anticipated and she had almost finished the bottle when the rugged male in a leather jacket walked in. She was fairly certain this was her tail. After making another call, she then walked over and stood next to the leather jacketed male. Sheila signalled to the barman and he hurried across.
“Yes
, Ms Harrington?”
“Phillip, be a darling, would you, call me a cab. I enjoyed the bubbly a little too much.” She graced the barman with a devastating smile and lingered her long fingers on his arm. “I’ll pay you to drive my car over to the Park Royal, and of course the funds to take you back to your own car. What time do you get off?”
The bartender laughed. “It’s been a long while since you needed me to do that. I get off at nine. What are you driving this time?”
“I rented a silver SUV.” She hunted in her bag for the details. “Pen?”
The bartender found one and handed it across, still smiling.
“It’s parked outside ‘Vogue’ two blocks south. Drop it over to valet parking, will you, and bring my packages up to the room.” She jotted down the room number, handed the barman five crisp hundred dollar bills and waited for him to get her a cab.
The good-looking man sitting to her right spoke. “I’m going that way if you’d like a lift?”
The woman turned and appraised the man slowly from head to toe. “How very kind of you.” She blazed a smile at him. “But I have a rule about strangers. Thanks anyway.” She turned to the barman. “Phillip, bring another bottle of the Moet with you.”
“Sure thing.”
She left the bar and climbed into the waiting cab. On arrival at the hotel, she ordered a late dinner from room service and poured herself a scotch from the well-stocked bar, then walked outside to make a call on her newly purchased cell phone. The number rang out.
Phillip arrived loaded with her purchases and entered at her invitation.
She knew damned well she had given them enough time to wire the room. She and Phillip enjoyed predictable sex, she paid him and he left satisfied. Bored and restless, she needed more. Trying the number again, there was still no response. She was not a happy woman.