by M. L. Harris
Brody gives Jack a tour of the mansion’s interiors, then walks him around the outside. At the back of the property a low stone wall straddles the edge of the lawn and overlooks the canyon.
The two of them return to the terrace and settle in.
Brody’s butler, Aiden, appears. “May I get you anything to drink?”
As he’s sent to the cellar for a vintage bottle of wine, Jack clears his throat.
“Uh… the guard out at the gate, is that a normal thing?”
“Not until yesterday,” Brody tells Jack. “I’m not taking any chances. I have more guards who’ve moved into the guest house.”
“I’d do the same thing.”
“I’m a realist, Jack. I had three business partners and now two of them are dead. Sure, Kumar partied as hard as he worked. Everybody knew that. Do I think a heart attack killed him? Could be. It’s the crash, and Dylan’s death, that I have a problem with. There’s something not right there, which is why I wanted to see you.”
“I’m here to help, Brody,” Jack says. “By the way, thanks for being discreet about my coming here.”
Brody chuckles and says, “That was a ballsy thing, Jack, your escaping from the hospital.”
“The decision was easy. The escape was the hard part.”
“Just how did you… never mind. I don’t want to know. So you think Dylan was murdered?”
“Hell, I know he was.”
Brody leans in closer.
“How?”
“The brakes, steering, everything… just went out. The limo frigging died. That’s when I jumped. The police aren’t saying much to the media because they don’t have any hard evidence yet. And they don’t want to get ahead of themselves and look stupid.”
Brody slaps a hand on his knee.
“Son of a bitch.”
“There’s more. But Maggie and I decided not to share it with anybody.”
“You’re withholding information from the police?”
“Listen Brody, this whole mess scares the shit out of me. We don’t know who we can trust. Maggie thinks our best option is to find the killer before he finds us.”
“That sounds like her. So the two of you are targets…”
Jack gives him a blank expression.
“Okay,” Brody says. “I don’t want to know.”
“What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”
“I agree. It’s probably best for now.”
“I think so.”
“Maggie’s a stubborn girl.”
“Yeah, and streetwise too.”
“Where do we go from here, Jack?”
“Just let things play out. Stay cool. Something will break.”
“Why do I feel like I’m on this killer’s hit list? Somebody’s messing with DynaTech.
“I know the feeling,” Jack says as their eyes meet.
Aiden emerges on the terrace, placing two glasses on the table before uncorking the bottle of wine.
As they wait for the wine to breathe, the two of them gaze at the ocean.
Then, Brody fills their glasses and takes a sip from his own.
After a second round they walk out to the motor court, standing by the Yamaha and chatting.
Finally Brody says, “I really have to go. Lots to do.”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
“Take care Jack, and be safe.”
“You do the same.”
“I’m trying.”
As Jack exits the estate and cruises along the smooth blacktop through the hills of Los Altos he begins to think.
Ivan Riktor… the missing piece of the puzzle. But first we have to find him.
Chapter
19
Jack and I sit in the backseat of a taxi as our laptops and cell phones buzz with activity. In the distance I can see Alcatraz Island while we cross the bridge from Berkeley and come into downtown San Francisco.
The cabbie weaves through mid-day traffic and drops us at Market Street where we both get out and look skyward at a gleaming office tower. Located on one of the higher floors is the notorious law firm:
Evans & Cromwell
This must be where all the stealing is done, I’m thinking.
Jack notices a café down the street and after we enter we slide into a booth at the rear and set our backpacks on the floor. A waitress comes around and jots orders on a pad before turning to other duties. After our meals are finished we move through the city buying supplies and provisions.
Two hours later Jack gets a call from Connor, one of the Berkeley Boys. Last night he planted a bug under the nose of Gray’s personal assistant. Turns out she made a dinner reservation at seven this evening for Hector Gray and a companion. The restaurant is located inside the Fairmont Hotel.
“That’s great work. Awesome, Connor,” Jack tells him.
In two hours the prey will enter the trap. Or will it be us who’ll be entering the trap?
I try not to think about it.
We spend an hour checking out the hotel.
When six-thirty comes around Jack and I are standing on the sidewalk, a short distance from the hotel entrance.
A few minutes later a black Town Car rolls by us, and stops. When a valet opens the back door, guess who steps out?
Hector Gray.
He has a woman on his arm, a young one, and she is not his wife. I’m not surprised.
Two bodyguards follow them into the hotel.
We check our disguises: classy outfits, facial makeup and hairpieces. Jack fidgets with his tie as I look over at him and sense a misplaced agitation of some kind: the fancy clothes are dredging up a painful memory that he can’t shake.
When Jack was about thirteen his mom had given him a beautiful suit coat and trousers which she had gotten from a generous neighbor. She sent him off to church and he was strolling along under a clear blue sky. Suddenly two neighborhood bullies who were two years older than Jack threw down on him. It all started with a verbal attack.
“What’s with the dandy outfit?”
One of the bullies knocked Jack to the ground as they continued to ridicule him. Feeling an impulse to fight Jack got up and he punched one of them. They retaliated by beating on him with their fists and he found himself back on the ground but the punches were now kicks to his ribs and face.
“What’s the matter, punk? Can’t you fight?”
They continued kicking and taunting him.
Finally they backed away and left.
He lay there on the sidewalk, all bruised and bleeding, his clothes in ruins.
A few weeks after Jack and I started dating he told me about the incident. “I’m cool now,” he had said. But the episode motivated him to earn a black belt in martial arts and that worries me. The intense amount of stress we are under could become a trigger for him. As we continue toward the hotel entrance Jack’s composure begins to erode.
Neither Jack nor I know it but Ivan is standing near a window in the office building across the street and his dark, empty eyes are following us.
He speaks into a cell phone.
“They is here,” he says.
“Are you sure?” asks a man on the other end of the line.
“Theys disguised, but yeah, it’s them.”
“Have they entered?”
“Yeah.”
We find Gray and his entourage in a lounge just off the lobby. I blend into the crowd of power suits and linger near the lounge tables where Gray and his date are seated.
Jack has already made his way over to the bar and to Gray’s bodyguards. As he moves closer I see something in his face, making me feel very uneasy.
The bodyguards are standing beside a hot chick. She’s got one hip against the bar, the other jutting out to display the merchandise. Jack brushes past one of the guys, his elbow connecting sharply as he interrupts an ongoing conversation.
Jack turns to her.
“You’re really pretty, what are you doing with these creeps?”
“Hey,” one of them barks as he
taps Jack on the shoulder. “I’m talking to her. Take a hike.”
Jack has his back against the bar.
“Eat shit,” he tells the guy who’s standing in front of him.
I see the bodyguard lung forward, grab Jack by his lapels and force him backward.
Suddenly Jack tilts his head back, quickly reversing direction in a forward thrust, the top of his head slamming into the bridge of the guy’s nose.
A thunderous collision sends him reeling.
Heads in the room turn to see Jack’s fist, crashing into the second guy’s throat.
A silence hangs in the air.
I raise my finger and say, “Check please.”
Jack grabs Gray and quickly pulls him away by the arm.
I shoot the bartender a look.
Sorry!
I move swiftly behind Jack and Hector Gray.
Then somebody in the bar shouts out.
“Call security.”
Crossing the lobby the three of us disappear into a stairwell leading down to the hotel kitchen.
“Who the hell are you?” Gray snaps at us.
“Shut up douche,” I reply.
Jack tugs him toward another stairwell and we scramble into the underground parking garage. At the rear there’s a door leading to a walkway under the street. I take out a flashlight and guide us to a building across the street which is under construction and its basement is totally closed off.
Once there Jack wraps both of Gray’s arms around a support beam and handcuffs his wrists.
“You’re making a big friggin’ mistake.”
“Shut the hell up,” Jack replies.
He pulls out a roll of duct tape and slaps a piece across Gray’s mouth. I motion to Jack toward the rear of the building and we walk far enough away so that we can talk.
Jack rests his head on my shoulder like a lost boy and I cradle him in my arms.
I try to ease the tension by making a little joke.
“Baby, you have to learn to express yourself when you’re angry.”
He manages a slight chuckle.
I’m sure Jack remembers telling me about the bullies and the beating and I think my empathy is a comfort to him.
Feeling self-conscious he looks away and says, “Damn it, Maggie. I just snapped. I hate that son of a bitch Gray and what he did to us. I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of a psycho.”
I hold his face in my palms.
“Listen to me, don’t ever talk like that. You’re my guy and I love you… all of you, just the way you are, okay?”
He squeezes me tight.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
I shrug off the incident in the bar.
Which one of us is going to crack first?
“We’re both under an unbelievable amount of stress. Besides, you’ve solved a problem.”
“What’s that?”
We turn and look at Gray off in the distance.
“You’re right,” Jack says. “We’ve got him now.”
As an afterthought I say, “I guess we can add kidnapping to the list.”
Jack is regaining his composure. He’s showing the look of determination.
“That bastard tried to kill us. So he’s not the trigger man… he’s a murderer just the same. How else are we supposed to defend ourselves?”
“You’re preaching to the choir, baby.”
I follow Jack and when he reaches Gray he rips the tape from his mouth. At close range Gray is a menacing figure. He exudes a cold, detached vibe.
“You punks are in over your heads,” are his first words.
Jack backhands him across the face.
“I’ll decide that you creep.”
“Killing me will get you nowhere.”
I grin at him.
“Who said anything about dying? We’ve got other plans for you.”
Jack puts the tape back over Gray’s mouth and we settle in on blankets for the night.
I look over at him.
You almost killed the man I love. The only person I’ve got in the world. Damn you. And damn this lousy mess we’re in.
“No blanket for you,” I say to him.
Jack sets his watch alarm and glances over at Gray.
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s the big event.”
I turn the flashlight off and we plunge into pitch darkness.
Gray’s mind is racing wildly.
What did he mean? The big event?
Chapter
20
I wake to the sound of Jack’s watch alarm and begin groping around for the flashlight. Finally I locate it and when the beam penetrates the darkness I feel disoriented at first. Coming out of what seems like a shallow sleep I find myself in the bowels of this building which is totally closed off due to construction.
I look over at Jack who’s already wide awake and I smile.
Good morning my love.
He smiles back at me.
Then I glance at Gray and judging by his bloodshot eyes he didn’t get a wink of sleep.
Too bad.
“Okay creep, last chance,” Jack says to Gray. “Either you tell us what we need to know or we leave you here to die.”
Silence.
I give him a swift kick in the shin.
“Start talking!”
“Alright. I’ve never met him. All I know is a voice on the phone,” he says. “And it was altered somehow.”
Jack pauses for a moment.
“What about the hit man? You know, the bag man at Wells Fargo?”
He seems surprised that we know about this.
“The guy’s a sex addict.”
Jack and I share a look.
“Come again?”
“While I was talking to him on the phone I’d hear voices in the background… like orgies and, you know, kinky shit.”
No, I don’t know, I’m thinking.
Jack steps up to him.
“What’s this sick bastard’s name?”
Gray doesn’t respond.
Jack clenches his fists and shouts at Gray.
“The name, damn it!”
Gray takes a deep breath.
“Okay… Ivan.”
“Ivan what?”
“Riktor, Ivan Riktor.”
Jack tells him to spell the name and he does so.
“Where can we find him?”
Gray sneers at us.
“You don’t find him. He finds you, he’s a ghost.”
Jack punches Gray in the gut and he doubles over.
“That’s all I know,” Gray says between gasps for air.
It has become apparent that Hector Gray has been manipulated by somebody else.
We have to find Ivan, in order to learn the identity of the mastermind.
I motion to Jack with my eyes and we start to leave.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Gray yells out. “I gave you what you wanted. Let me go.”
“Sorry,” I reply. “Can’t do it.”
“You double-crossing bitch. You’ll pay for this, I promise.”
Jack and I are fading further into the darkness and Gray suddenly changes tactics.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m a rich man.”
“You’re also a murderer,” I shout back at him.
“I’ll pay you… a million dollars, cash.”
Jack and I keep walking.
“Two million!”
As we round a corner I can still hear his voice, faintly.
“Name your price. Just don’t leave me down here!”
We come to a set of metal stairs, walking up to street level and emerging in an alley between two buildings. I start walking as Jack follows.
“Maggie!” he says.
“Yeah?”
“We can’t just leave him down there.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to send a text message disclosing his whereabouts,” I tell him, removing my laptop from a backpack and booting it up.
We send an email blast to the majo
r news outlets containing evidence the Berkeley Boys pulled off the servers at Evans & Cromwell.
Zip!
“Just like that,” Jack says, “and all of their dirty laundry goes viral.”
“It’s a beautiful thing.”
The data is virtually a public display of mind-boggling corruption. It isn’t long before a spokesman from the law firm emerges in the lobby of their office building where a horde of reporters have already gathered.
He clutches nervously at a sheet of paper in his hand.
“All of us at Evans & Cromwell express our sympathy for Hector Gray and we wish him the best of luck in the future.”
One of the reporters shouts out.
“Does this mean that Mr. Gray is no longer with the firm?”
The spokesman gives a deadpan expression.
“I think the statement speaks for itself.”
He tells the reporters that he will not be answering any more questions before turning and walking away.
A security guard quickly replaces him and blocks the elevators as the spokesman rides back up and hides in the den of thieves.
“I think we should bail,” Jack says.
“You read my mind.”
I hail a cab and in the backseat Jack pulls me tightly to him as we leave San Francisco.
Chapter
21
Back in Berkeley, Jack comes down the staircase of the townhouse and emerges in the kitchen. He immediately notices the anxious expression on my face.
“I just talked to Connor,” I tell him.
He takes a seat at the table.
“God I hope it’s good news.”
I’ve been really busy: papers are strewn across the table and my laptop sits open with images on the screen shouting at us.
“He came across some video surveillance from a street camera in the Tenderloin.”
“Where does that name come from?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m curious, that’s all.”
I roll my eyes because I’d rather be telling him what Connor found out.
“I think it’s the triangular shape of the area, like the cross-section of a steak. Some people say it was originally called the Tenderloin by police officers who got hazard pay for working in a violent area, and could afford the better cut of meat.”
“Interesting. But the ‘Loin is the roughest neighborhood in the city.”
“I know. Connor’s a genius. He started thinking outside of the box...”