City Havoc

by Jack Adler

  “So where are your partners in crime?”

  “No crime,” Luke said. “We believe in what we’re doing.”

  “Killing people, kidnapping people?”

  “Desperate times call for desperate actions. That’s what BB always says.”

  “And you do whatever BB says?”

  “I have a job to do, and I do it,” Luke said quietly with a hurt expression. Holly could see he meant it. This approach wasn’t going to work. She felt so depleted, but she had to force her mind to work. Debating with Bender was useless; he had an answer for everything.

  “I understand that,” Holly said sympathetically.

  “You want to help our country, too, don’t you?” Luke asked. She was touched by his plaintive tone. The big man was a sincere but naïve follower. If Bender could brainwash him, why couldn’t she do the same?

  “Yes, but in different ways,” Holly said as if she were more than willing to discuss the subject. “Luke, I can see you’re sincere in your beliefs.”

  “I am, Holly. I am.”

  Holly nodded. “I understand that. And I hope you understand that I don’t share your beliefs, so this is very difficult for me. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Luke nodded with sympathy. “But Holly, it has to be this way. It has to be.”

  “Tell me, Luke, how did you get involved with the HAP?”

  Luke looked around awkwardly. “Holly, BB doesn’t want me to talk about that.”

  “Well, what does your esteemed leader let you talk about?”

  Luke looked hurt again. “We can talk about lots of things. Like everything in the manifesto.”

  “Oh, yes, the manifesto. I’ve practically memorized it.” Holly regretted her sarcasm as soon as the words left her mouth. Luke’s already large face widened in surprise.

  “You’ll see that we’re doing the right thing, Holly. You have to trust us.”

  “I’d like to trust you,” Holly said, giving Luke a plaintive look of her own. “Especially you.”

  But Luke just looked embarrassed. How much of their conversation would he repeat to Bender, if it even made any difference?

  “Who are the HAP?” Rod Matthews of the Los Angeles office of the FBI asked when the new task force met at the LAPD offices. “Who finances them?”

  “We have no background on this group,” said Jim Hollins, of the Department of Homeland Security. “There doesn’t seem to be any tie with any foreign terrorist organization, but we’re still tapping all our sources and tracing bank transfers.”

  “Maybe they’re totally new,” suggested Dave Robins of the Los Angeles office of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.

  Mathews nodded. “Could be. Their demands would emasculate the city, and they have to know that. It’s sort of economic terrorism. Besides just creating fear.”

  “Yes, but who is responsible, and how far are they willing to go?” Hollins gave his peers a disturbed look, aware they had no more of an answer to his question than he did.

  “What’s the city’s reaction so far?” Robin asked.

  “This is where we are right now,” said Hal Johnson, deputy police chief. “Mayor Waldon doesn’t want to respond other than to say they’ll be caught. He doesn’t want to be seen as denying their demands, which gives them a dignity they don’t deserve.”

  The others nodded.

  Johnson continued: “We’re circulating sketches of the man and woman, and Holly Baxter, throughout the city, especially to gas stations, as they must be driving around. But to be honest, we don’t have any leads yet. And the mayor is breaking balls.”

  “We’ll find them,” Matthews said with assurance.

  Mayor James Waldon adjusted his glasses, read a transcript of the broadcast a second time and threw it down on his desk. His florid face was puffed like a ripe tomato. Deep lines creased his forehead, which was crowned by cropped wisps of gray hair. He was a stocky man in his fifties who kept in shape by working out regularly. “Incredible,” he boomed. “The city being given an ultimatum.” He looked around at his brain trust. “Your thoughts . . . ”

  “Nervy sons of bitches,” said Harry Merch, who handled public affairs.

  “But who the fuck are they?” asked Lanny Wilson, the financial affairs specialist.

  “Arrogant bastards who aren’t going to blackmail the city,” Waldon roared. “And they’re going to go to jail for a long time.”

  “But first we have to catch them,” Merch muttered.

  “It could be worse,” Wilson said, trying to find hope in the grim situation. “Their demands are too ridiculous to consider. Everyone realizes that. And there’s been no disruption to the city.”

  “Not yet,” Merch said.

  Waldon shook his head. “Well, I’m very grateful for that,” he said, his raspy voice tinged with bitterness. “Just an occasional murder.”

  Wilson grimaced at this admonishment, which Waldon ignored as he continued. “I don’t think the police are getting anywhere. I don’t think this task force is doing much, either.”

  “Christ, we’ll have the National Guard here soon!” Wilson exclaimed.

  “The governor has already called, asking if we wanted help,” Waldon admitted.

  “And he’d love to send it, too,” Merch said. “It would make him look good and hurt your reelection chances.”

  Wilson was quick to agree. “Something like that can hurt us when we’re raising money for the campaign, though we’re still in good shape.”

  “A crisis is always bad news,” Waldon said. “It always gives ammunition to your opponents, regardless of what you do or don’t do. We have to ask ourselves just how vulnerable we are.”

  Merch came out with his opinion first. “Chief, I’d have to say a clever and determined terrorist group can do real damage.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Waldon said, shaking his head.

  “We have to issue some statement,” Merch said. “Should we hold a press conference?”

  “No!” Waldon said with fervor. “We’re not giving in to these terrorists in any way whatsoever. Absolutely not! That would give weight to their broadcast and everything they’ve done.”

  “They’re looking for exposure,” Wilson agreed.

  “And they’re not going to get it from me,” Waldon said.

  “But the media are calling every minute,” Merch warned. “We can’t just ignore them.”

  Waldon considered the comment a moment. “All right, draft a statement from me, brief and to the point, saying that the city of Los Angeles is not negotiating with terrorists, who will be brought to justice.”

  “That’s it?” Merch questioned.

  “That’s it!” Waldon said.

  Bender turned the TV on after lunch with anticipation as Rona and Luke settled into their chairs. Holly stood in the hallway. She was certainly curious, Bender thought. She wasn’t ready to sit with them despite Luke’s promising report about their conversation earlier.

  “Good afternoon,” the newsman said. “The city of Los Angeles has received an ultimatum from the HAP group, who commandeered radio station KZAB early this morning. The HAP group is responsible for murder, robbery and other civic disturbances. The ultimatum included a message from missing heiress Holly Baxter, which stated that she has joined this terrorist organization.”

  Holly winced and braced herself. She saw Rona staring at her with a malicious smile. “Sit down, honey,” Rona urged. “You’re a star.”

  “Quiet!” Bender ordered. He leaned forward to read the specifics of their ultimatum as they flashed across the screen. “Just as I wrote it,” he gloated. “No editing.”

  The newsman continued. “A spokesman for Mayor Waldon said the city was studying the broadcast but that there would be no negotiations with a terrorist group and that the authorities would soon apprehend the group.”

  “Not if we’re careful,” Rona said.

  Bender looked at Holly, who was still in the
hallway. “Holly, I hope you feel relieved.”

  “I hope my parents understand,” Holly said, making no effort to conceal her bitterness. She was being used as an unwilling instrument in their evil design.

  “I’m sure they do,” Bender said.

  “Now that you’re so clearly identified as one of us, how about some help cleaning up, like washing a few dishes?” Rona stared at Holly with malice.

  “I’m your guest,” Holly threw back.

  “You have to do your share,” Rona insisted, looking at Bender for backup.

  “And if I don’t, do I have to stay after hours?”

  Bender laughed. Luke followed his example an instant later.

  “BB,” Rona demanded, “tell her!”

  “Holly, we won’t impose on you any further. Luke and I will clean up.”

  As soon as Holly left the room, Rona said, “She’s a sassy bitch, and you let her get away with it.”

  “Rona,” Bender said with patience, “I told you she can still be turned.”

  “And I think you’re dead wrong,” Rona retorted.

  Luke excused himself to go to the car. Bender nodded. He knew Luke disliked being around when he and Rona argued.

  “BB,” Rona asked as soon as Luke was gone, “what’s going on between you and our . . . guest?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you have a thing with her?”

  “Not at all,” Bender said. “I’m surprised you ask.”

  “Why? You’re a man, and good old Holly isn’t above using sex to get what she wants.”

  Bender smiled. “Both are true, but there’s no ‘thing,’ as you put it.”

  “Well, you sure do a lot of talking with her, like there was a bond.”

  “Is creating a bond a bad idea?”

  “No, but I think she’s trying to use you. And Luke, too.”

  “And I think you’re right.”

  Rona was momentarily surprised but then quickly said, “So?”

  “So I think I’m better at this bonding business than she is, and as long as she’s engaged at some level, even if it’s discussing history and such, she’s less trouble.”

  Rona shook her head. “I don’t trust her. She hasn’t joined us and never will. You know that. Luke may believe in our so-called cause, but she sees right through it.”

  “Even so, it’s to our advantage to make her think we have hope for her conversion.”

  “BB, the sooner we dispose of her and get out of L.A., the better. And that’s not because I don’t like her—which I don’t—it’s simply that she poses a threat to our work here and our survival. I’d like to spend some of that money waiting for us.”

  “Not too auspiciously, I hope.”

  “Don’t worry. I know better. I’m just as much a professional as you.”

  Bender nodded. “Rona, your analysis is right up to a point. Holly is still useful to us, but we have to wrap up our campaign as soon as possible. The good mayor has reacted as I thought he would, so we’re on schedule for our next event.”

  Detective John Ruiz made it clear that he was grudgingly giving me a few minutes of his precious time. We were at the new Police Administration Building, which was a major improvement over their former Parker Center enclave. Ruiz was a stocky, black-haired man with a thick but neatly trimmed mustache, which stood out on his florid face. I took him to be in his late thirties. He motioned for me to take a chair in an empty room, which was probably used for interrogations.

  “So you’re a travel agent,” Ruiz said, sizing me up with a quizzical stare.

  “No,” I said, meeting his dark eyes evenly. “I’m an investigator for Tramerica.”

  “I didn’t know travel agencies had investigators,” Ruiz said.

  His manner wasn’t derisive, just ignorant. I thought it was best to explain. “Tramerica is on the wholesale end of the business. We’re a tour operator, one of the largest in the world, not a retail travel agency.”

  “Oh, I see,” Ruiz said. But I didn’t think he did. Lots of people didn’t, but it wasn’t important now. “Well, what can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to get whatever information the task force has on this organization.”

  Ruiz looked at me as if I were dense. “I’d have to get approval to release any information.”

  His expression made it clear such approval was unlikely. I was ready for this dodge and asked, “Can you tell me if you had a preexisting file on the group? I’ve never heard of them before.”

  Ruiz looked uncertain for a moment and then regrouped. “Look, I can’t tell you what we know and when we knew it. You have to know that, being an investigator, as you say.

  Indeed I did, but there was no harm in asking. “I understand. Just doing my job. Obviously my company is involved.”

  Ruiz nodded but was silent, studying me with obvious impatience.

  “Can I ask if any leads have been developed with the descriptions you have through reports from the bank robbery and the radio broadcast?”

  “You can ask,” Ruiz said with a narrow smile.

  Getting nowhere but undaunted, I ran down my list of questions. When I was interviewing someone, I generally had my questions written down and in the order I wanted to ask them. I then checked off questions answered as interviews often went off on tangents, and the checklist enabled me to go back to any point left uncovered. But this wasn’t an interview, which Ruiz would never have granted on that basis.

  “And you still think Holly Baxter committed murder and a bank robbery willingly?”

  Ruiz looked at me as if I were obtuse. “She admitted it on the radio, didn’t she?”

  “That doesn’t mean she did that willingly,” I said. “What did the voice analysis indicate?”

  I figured a voice analysis of Holly and of the other person who had spoken on the broadcast had surely been made. And I certainly wanted to let Ruiz know that I was aware of this police action.

  Ruiz’s already tight face tightened up further. “Ongoing investigation.”

  I had been waiting for that expression. “Well, thanks for your time.” I figured I had outstayed my welcome anyhow, and I wasn’t getting anything worthwhile, either. Orders were to liaise with the police, and I had. I dropped my business card on the table; I had written the phone number of our Los Angeles office on the back. “If you want to reach me, just call our Los Angeles office. I’m based in New York.”

  We shook hands. “Hey, Greene,” Ruiz called after me, “a word of advice. You got your job to do, but don’t interfere with our investigation in any way. Is that clear?”

  “Sure,” I said. I was going to add that I’d be happy to turn over anything I found out, but I thought he’d take it the wrong way. Diplomacy: part of the job.

  “They’re playing Robin Hood,” I said as Val and I sat in a Chinese restaurant on Ventura Boulevard. True to her word, Val had left a message for me at the office saying that her plans had changed. She looked lovely in the light blue pantsuit that neatly outlined her figure. We shared some dim sum, and I completed my meal with beef with peppers while she ate sweet and sour pork. We both used chop sticks adroitly.

  “And it’s playing well with media,” Val observed.

  I nodded.

  “Mayor Waldon’s response was about what could be expected,” she went on. “He can’t be seen as caving in, especially because he wants to serve another term.”

  “Politics shouldn’t enter the picture, but, of course, it does,” I said, refilling our small cups with tea. “And I just don’t think Holly Baxter’s broadcast wasn’t under some kind of duress.”

  “But the police disagree.”

  “They sure do,” I acknowledged. “My meeting was short and not very useful. I have to call my boss tomorrow morning, and I don’t think he’ll be too pleased.” In addition, I hadn’t yet told Wolcott that I had enlisted the air of a freelance journalist.

  “This group will slip up,” Val offered as encouragement. “I ju
st hope there won’t be a shoot-out like with the Symbionese group.”

  “Yes, and with Holly Baxter waving an Uzi,” I added dourly.

  Val stared at me for a moment. I probably looked as dejected as I felt. It was as if I took the antics of the HAP as a personal affront. I knew I should just look at it like another assignment, undoubtedly the toughest one I had ever faced, but it was becoming a personal challenge for reasons I couldn’t fathom. And it had nothing to do with my lustful thoughts about Val, either.

  “When do you have to go back?” Val asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I knew why Val was asking, and it was a reasonable question. It was all too easy to read a personal reason into her query, and I tried to resist that impulse.

  “I have some queries out,” Val revealed. “Something will turn up.”

  “That’s great, Val. I think this will pay off for you, and it shouldn’t distract you from your social life.”

  What a stupid thing to say, I thought, lambasting myself. I was behaving like a jealous teenager.

  “No problem on the latter score,” Val said evenly, not at all disturbed by my impulsive statement. “No one’s knocking my door down.”

  I would, I told myself, with just the slightest encouragement. But this time I had the sense to keep quiet.

  Bender made the phone call to the Los Angeles International Airport from a pay phone booth:

  “Good afternoon This is the HAP speaking. We just want to let you know that bombs have been placed aboard an international flight and a domestic flight: Cathay Pacific Flight 14 and American Airlines Flight 29. Sorry to disrupt the airport, but authorities have to fix the aviation system to really serve the people. It isn't safe to fly now, and it will get progressively worse with more passengers flying. The Federal Aviation Administration is in bed with the airlines, and they consistently wait for accidents to happen before taking action; even then they put more emphasis on economic considerations for the airlines than on saving lives. All the new security precautions are inadequate. Make the city of Los Angeles take notice of our reasonable demands!”