“Just get to what this is about. No games. I’m way beyond that, where I’m coming from.”
“I understand you got involved accidentally,” Cillo said. “Nobody faults you for that. But what you do from this point onward is no accident. You walked into something blind, but now your eyes are wide open—you need to get smart and walk back out fast.”
“Are we talking about this Thorp character?”
“You don’t mess with guys like Thorp,” Cillo said, taking another drag. “No future and no purpose to it. Come on, Marco, you’re a smart guy. You’ve been around the hard blocks, so wake up and smell the roses before you end up fertilizing them.”
Marco turned and looked around, making sure they stayed alone, then said, “She told me about some girl and her boyfriend who got taken out to put an end to an investigation. Drowned, supposedly.”
“Jesus.” Cillo shook his head, snorting smoke. “You really buying into this? You can’t stand staying out of the line of fire, or what? Don’t play the stupid hero shit up here, my friend. You don’t want any part of any of it, and you don’t know squat about the truth of it. Whether they drowned on their drugged-out own or were helped, doesn’t change anything. They were used by Jesup. She might as well have drowned them herself. What you have to do to clear this up is tell me where the hell she is, and then come on back and we’ll get this party on track. It’s not too late.”
Marco said, “I can’t hand her over if she’s already gone, now can I?”
“Well, that’s bullshit,” Cillo shot back. “Girl’s wounded. She ain’t driving around by herself, and she’s got no friends here. Wake up. You put me in a real bind I don’t much appreciate. I invite you up here and you run me over because of some crazy woman you know nothing about. That doesn’t play.”
“Didn’t mean to, but—”
“The girl tied up on the railroad tracks doesn’t cut it.”
His uncle lit another cigarette off the butt of the one he finished, before dropping that and crushing it in the dirt under the pine needles. “Where’d you leave her? You want out of this, then the only way is tell me where the hell she is. Listen, damnit, I got people on my neck.”
Marco stared at the dark rise of the mountain across the lake. “These people you say are such big deals, how is it they sent some rank amateur to do her in a hatchery, on government property, no less?”
His uncle said, “That’s the thing. Nobody knows who did this, but it happened at a bad time. She probably was gonna get hit, but not now and not there.”
“Nobody has any idea who it was?”
“If they do, they aren’t talking to me about it—you know nothing about what’s going on. Some of the most powerful and richest people on the planet are coming to the big party next weekend, the Great Gatsby Gala Thorp’s putting on. These people are the ones gonna invest a hundred million into this resort. What nobody wants right now is a scandal. People getting killed. And that woman, getting shot up, isn’t good. She can do something to upset this whole thing. End up on fucking TV or something.”
“She didn’t call the police or the news, so it’s obvious she isn’t interested in this going public. Maybe if she agrees to stay away, she won’t be a threat.”
Cillo gave him a long, hard stare. “You don’t understand anything. And you aren’t listening to me.”
“You aren’t telling me much.”
Cillo stared at him, his face angry and tight. He looked off. Then came back, saying, “You won’t listen to me, then maybe you’ll listen to an old buddy of yours. Someone who can tell you what the hell you need to know.”
“Who might that be?”
“Gary Gatts. He’s got a place up the mountain south of here. A restaurant. The Mountain View, I think. Go talk to him. He knows everything going on. He’ll straighten you out. Go up there now and see the guy.”
Cillo stopped and pulled out his buzzing cell phone. “Yeah. Yeah.” He took some steps away from Marco and listened to whoever was on the other end. Then he put the phone back in his pocket and walked back to Marco. He had a tight look. Whatever the call was about, he didn’t like it much.
“Well, your time frame to make the right decision just got shorter. Word went to Vegas. You know how things work in that world. They want this shut down real fast.”
“Which means?”
“Which means they’ll send somebody to shut it down. Marco, this woman has no future. The guy who shot her has no future. And you, you don’t get smart, won’t have a future either. And that puts me in a spot. I’m not asking you anymore. I’m telling you. You got to get smart fast. Go see Gatts, goddamnit. Maybe he can get you thinking straight.”
“Why’s Gary Gatts so important?”
“Don’t worry about that. He’s in the know. He’s got his inside information chain all around the lake.”
“Give me at least tonight,” Marco said. “I’ll talk to Gary. Then, when I understand things better, I’ll work this out.”
“Good. Now you’re making sense. Damnit, I love having you back. I got big things in store for you, and you deserve something good after all you been involved in. Keep me updated. I can shield you for a short time. Do the right thing. It’ll pay off big in the end. Marco, you’ve been down the wrong road, and you know what’s that’s all about.”
Cillo crushed out the second cigarette with the toe of his shoe, then gave Marco a quick half-hug. “You and me will be sittin’ pretty. Let’s get this behind us.”
He walked away, heading back through the trees to the museum parking lot.
13
Marco waited until he saw the car lights and heard the engine. Then he headed back to the boat, jogging past the Baldwin Beach picnic area and Taylor Creek. He saw the headlights of two cars swing from the highway toward the parking area. He got on the phone as he jogged and told Sydney to crank up the engine.
When he reached the old dock, he climbed down in the boat and she headed fast out into the lake, no longer hugging the shoreline.
“I take it that didn’t go well,” she said.
“Not real well,” Marco said. We’re going to have to talk. My uncle says the powers that be are aware of the situation, and that means they’ll send somebody to clean it up. It could get ugly real fast. You need to get the hell out of here.”
“He know who had the shaky trigger finger?”
“No. But he mentioned a guy I used to go camping and hiking with. One of the group. Says he’s the guy who knows everything around here. Gary Gatts. You know him?”
She gave off a dark chuckle. “GG. He’s the supplier of choice for party drugs. Works for the Mexican distributors. He wants you to talk to Gary—that sounds like a setup to me.”
“He wouldn’t do that. He really wants me to get clear of this. Big plans.”
“You and Gatts buddies in the past?”
“Not exactly. We ran in the same hiking, camping group. I always knew Gatts would find his place in the world.”
“Now what?” she asked.
“We’ll talk about that back at the house. I’m getting into a really bad mood. I don’t like being shot at, pushed around, and given ultimatums. Never works well with me. But then, I don’t like going around deaf, dumb, and blind, either.”
He glanced at her and saw a thin smile. “Don’t think for a minute I’m a candidate looking to join your crusade to save the Tahoe Basin from evildoers. Not my thing. I’m way past that.”
“What is your thing?” she challenged.
“I want that shooter who put bullet holes in my car, messed up my day, and put me on the run. Once I settle that, I’m done. And you need to get the hell out of here. I mean now. Tonight.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere until I find out who shot me. I need to know that more than you do.”
They stared at each other. On some level, he understood that if he took a step in that direction, his involvement was going to get sticky. But she was a big, added problem. Still, she had a point. If the shooter was s
ome rummy, that might change things for her. She could maybe get out without being tracked down if she was no longer seen as a threat. Still, she wasn’t in good shape and might be a drag. He liked to move fast.
“You know where we can find Gary Gatts? This Mountain View restaurant of his?” he asked.
“Yes. Up past Markleeville,” she said. “I don’t know where he actually lives. I just know that’s the rumored transition point for party drugs. I also know he’s got connections and would be hard to bring down.”
“I like to move fast,” Marco said. “Maybe you can stay at the Shaw house while I’ll go up tonight, have a little talk.”
“We’ll discuss it when we get back. You have a trust in your uncle, and I understand that. But it’s a trust built a long time ago. Things change. You uncle is probably not the man you thought you once knew.”
“Maybe. That’ll be my problem.”
“No, it’ll be our problem, at least until we find out who the shooter is. Look, I know this world better than you do. I’ve worked it for three years with the sheriff’s department and two with the DA. I know every scumbag, every would-be mogul, and the current affairs. It’s a very beautiful world until you pull up the covers and look beneath. We’ll talk.”
Marco sat back and she headed out deep into the lake, then north. He didn’t know exactly how to react to her. She was pushy and authoritative and that was okay, but she had an agenda, and he had to steer very clear of that.
14
Sydney felt Marco had made some kind of decision and wasn’t telling her about it. They drifted up the lake toward the Shaw house.
“Cillo knows what’s going on, doesn’t he?” she asked, really hoping for a different answer, and also hoping she could get to know this guy. If they were going to end up working together—and she had no idea if they would—she needed to understand him better. And part of her really wanted to, which surprised the hell out of her.
“Like I said, he’s maintaining he’s in the dark.”
She wanted to know every detail of what Cillo had said, but she sensed Marco was struggling, in a dilemma. “Look, you can walk, but I need to know where I am in all this. Did Cillo really have no idea who the shooter was?”
“It seems to me you have something in mind or you wouldn’t be here. We need to be straight with each other.”
“Two-way street.”
Marco nodded and said, “Tell me again why you’re still hanging around in harm’s way?”
“I already told you.”
“Not really,” Marco said. “You have some kind of plan. You aren’t that naive, idealistic girl in Mexico. You’re a hard-nosed investigator. You’re shot up and still you’re in a boat on the lake with somebody out there looking to finish the job. What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”
She looked off for a moment, then turned back to Marco. Time to come clean if she expected him to trust her at all. “You’re right. I have something in mind.”
“It involve me now?”
“I don’t know yet and, right now, neither do you.”
“Try me. Because this is going to deteriorate fast. I’m not a happy puppy.”
Sydney took a deep breath and let it out. “Thorp and his lawyer, Richard Rouse, live next to each other on the waterfront at Incline Village. The lawyer—Tricky Dick is how he’s better known—is rumored to be the power behind the throne. My witness, Karen Orland, the girl who drowned, she was in the party circuit for a time and one of his favorites. She knew a lot. All about the sex and drugs, the videotapes of important people having fun, the garbage. But those Incline estates are over the border on the Nevada side of the lake. I worked for the DA in South Lake, in California, and couldn’t get any cooperation from Nevada where those guys were concerned.”
“Get to where you are now, what you think you can do about this.”
“Rouse has this office that’s built to withstand anything short of an atomic bomb. Karen thought the way they manipulated people—got support for what they were doing—was because of the dirt Tricky Dick has on just about everybody who matters. And that he keeps it in that office in a safe. Since we could never get any Nevada authority interested, I wanted to get associates on the California side. Those parties that Thorp has are drug and sex festivals, but nobody’s ever attempted to bust one of them. In fact, the local police and sheriff’s departments on both sides of the lake provide much of the security.”
“Sounds a little like Mexico. A place I left and am in no hurry to go back to. I see where you’re headed, and I’m not interested.”
“I know.” She paused a moment, then said, “But while we’re being open, I’m curious about what you did in Mexico that got your records sanitized.”
“It won’t matter.”
“Satisfy my curiosity.”
“I had a partner who got ambushed and killed. I went after the guys who did it. End of story.”
“I hardly think that’s the end of the story. I didn’t ask about that. I asked about how you managed to get out of prison and then home free with a new lease on life.”
“It’s the end as far as I’m willing to talk about it. Look, I have a very good idea where you’re headed, and there’s no way in hell I’m getting into your crusade against these guys, justified as it may be. You’re way over your head. Not happening. Here’s where I am with all of this: I picked you up; the guy who shot you came after not just you, but me.”
“Shot your Shelby,” she added, with a touch of sarcasm.
“That’s right. So I’m real unhappy about that. I’m not going to be happy until I settle it with him. I’m in this for that and that alone. And it doesn’t sound like it’s connected to your vendetta against Thorp. It sounds like some lone guy you pissed off. You accept where I’m at, we can work together. If not, we need to part ways.”
“What if he didn’t act on his own? What if he’s part of a bigger thing, whether it’s Thorp or someone else?”
She steered toward the Shaw house from deep out in the lake. They were cruising at a slow speed, lights still out. The moon was partially covered by some thin clouds.
Marco studied her a moment. “That isn’t my problem. He wasn’t coming after me, per se. He was after you, and I got in the way. I’ll settle with him for that.”
“How did you handle it in Mexico?”
“You don’t give up.” He shook his head, then said, “I had plenty of contacts. I took a leave. Slipped into Mexico. Part of my family is down there. I got some help, tracked the killers, settled the issue. The troubles I got into later weren’t directly connected to that. I can tell you that I spent some very bad months in a prison near Mexico City. I wouldn’t have survived if a relative hadn’t made contact with friends in the prison. I got protection from a powerful clique. Then, well, I got out.”
“That the part you can’t talk about.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m good with getting the shooter. I’ll deal with the other part once I find out who he’s connected to, or if he’s on his own.”
They pulled into the boathouse and were just starting to talk about going up to Markleeville, getting a room, and then seeing Gatts in the morning, when she fell—her leg buckled getting out, and she missed her step. She went down against the side of the boat and the ladder. Had he not grabbed her, she would have gone into the water. He helped her to her feet.
“Muscles cramped up,” Sydney said. She massaged her leg and headed up to the house slowly, with Marco’s hand on her arm for support.
“Hey,” he said, “you need to rest everything for a while.”
When she realized she wasn’t really doing as well as she had thought, that the pain meds had fooled her a little, she acceded to the necessity of settling down, maybe getting a little sleep.
“I want to go with you to see Gatts,” she said. “Let me get some rest for a couple hours.”
He did a perimeter check, then, in the dark, they ate peanut butter
sandwiches with blueberry spread and drank some milk with it, thanks to what he’d taken from the doc.
She grew very tired around midnight and took the guest room on the main floor. He chose a recliner in the living room. It gave him the best surveillance of the grounds and the house.
***
Marco was up every hour checking the grounds, worried that more people knew about her relationship with the Shaws than her doctor friend. For a time, he sat out on the deck and stared at the darkness of the lake, trying to get a clear understanding of the mess he was in and where it might go.
He could go up and try and find Gatts without her, but he didn’t much like the idea of leaving her in the condition she was in. Plus, if she found him gone, what would she do? Then there was the issue of whether he would take the Shaws’ vehicle. He didn’t want to drive his around. Adding to it all was the problem of his uncle—if Marco couldn’t respond positively, and soon, what would he do? Questions and no immediate answers.
We’ve got to talk to Gatts, he thought, getting up. He went into the bedroom to see how Sydney was doing, and she was in a deep sleep. Marco frowned. It was almost midnight. He went back outside to check the perimeter again. He started wondering if her fall had been faked.
But then he thought that was a stretch. She could have really hurt herself, hit her head, and that would have pretty much put her out of business. He knew she wouldn’t have risked it.
15
That Sunday night, four hundred sixty miles southeast of Tahoe in a penthouse suite at the Desert Towers high above the Vegas Strip, Ogden Thorp ignored his lawyer, who was at the back of the room trying to get his attention.
Thorp was busy displaying his investment dream to a small gathering of wealthy investors, some of the richest and most powerful men in gaming and hotels. Two of them were CEOs of Silicon Valley tech behemoths. Also in the mix was a Chinese billionaire who claimed he had relatives who helped build the transcontinental railroad’s western section, and that many who died had been dumped into Lake Tahoe.
Thorp stood before an eighty-two-inch screen that displayed the mockup of his vision. He was selling them on the grand Regal Tahoe and its venues. He led them with a toast to great dreams and grand designs. “Bad recessions provide great opportunities for those positioned to take advantage.”
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