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City Havoc

Page 17

by Jack Adler


  When we left, I helped Stacy carry her material to her car in the bowels of the hotel's parking floors. "You were a big help," Stacy said. "They loved you."

  I had the feeling they would have loved any reasonably fit man, but I said nothing. We started to drive out to the street when Stacy said, "We don't have to go back to the office. Would you like to have a drink?"

  Alarms sounded in my mind. I was free this evening. Moreover, I was in need of female companionship. But I lied. "Stacy, before I go back to New York, let me take you to lunch. But I do have plans tonight."

  She turned for a second, still driving, and asked without a hint of rancor, "Derry, are you bonking this writer you're working with?"

  I tried not to frown, but her candor was sometimes too much to stomach. “My relationship with this writer is just as professional as our relationship is.”

  “That’s what concerns me,” Stacy said, smiling to herself.

  Meeting Buzz Haley hadn’t been as difficult as Rona thought. As a producer he was probably used to women using their bodies to get ahead in the film industry. How could she interest him without coming across as just another showbiz bimbo? From what she knew of Haley, he was dominated by his ego and his penis, and she knew of a way to appeal to both.

  Rona called Haley’s office and spoke to his secretary using her German accent. “Hello, my name is Ursula Wennik, and I am a reporter for the German Film Critic in Frankfurt. We are the film magazine with the biggest circulation in Germany. Would it be possible to interview Mr. Haley? I have little time, unfortunately, as I must to fly back shortly to Frankfurt.”

  “Hold the line, please,” the secretary said, “and I’ll check his schedule.”

  Seconds later Rona was on the phone with Haley, who was interested but curious why she had picked him for the interview.

  “Ah, Mr. Haley, perhaps you are better known in Europe than you realize. There have been some quite favorable reviews of your films, especially Dream Of Me, which I especially liked.”

  Rona had done her homework. Actually, she had seen this film and despised its focus on female body parts being used and abused along with its thin, predictable plot.

  Haley invited her to his home after Rona said she had appointments all day. Rona had the feeling that Haley wanted to see her in his office after his secretary left for the day, which would be fine with her, but she couldn’t be sure the secretary would leave before she arrived, and she didn’t want to camp out waiting. Moreover, it would still be fairly light outside and much more likely that more people would see her in the office building. So she took a cab in the growing dusk to Haley’s mini-estate in Bel Air wearing her blond wig, flat shoes to make her look shorter, and blue-green contact lenses. A small, false scar lay just below her right ear, a good body marking to fool the police should anyone try to describe her. A tight skirt and a blouse sufficiently low-cut to show some cleavage should be enough to entice the producer, considering the skin flicks he turned out.

  Haley, who she knew to be a thrice-divorced bachelor, greeted her himself. If he had a maid or housekeeper, he had doubtless sent her home by this time. The pig was wearing a black silk shirt open down to his stomach, which showed fuzzy hair on his chest. A gold chain dangled from his broad neck. He had thinning black hair. It was probably dyed, Rona thought.

  “Guten abend, Miss Wennik,” Haley said, smiling with what she thought he considered to be linguistic charm.

  This was going to be easier than she thought, Rona told herself. To Haley she said, “Very good accent, and good evening to you, too.”

  Inside, Rona played the journalist, producing one of the several business cards she had in her purse. This one was for her “magazine” and included a real street address and phone and fax numbers; only the e-mail address was fake. She declined a cocktail and even a soft drink to maintain her professional stance. Paying careful attention, she took notes as Haley droned on in response to her questions.

  “This is very good, Mr. Haley,” she said to compliment him.

  “Call me Buzz. Mein namen ist Buzz.”

  Rona smiled. Your name is shit, mister, she thought. “Tell me about your future projects.”

  “Well, “Haley said with an air of importance while smoothing down a sideburn, “we have an interesting project in development. Actually, this hasn’t even been released in the trades yet here in the U.S. It’s about the HAP, so you’re getting something really new. You’ve read about our little mess here, I’m sure.”

  Bender would love this, she thought, smiling inwardly. Fortuitously, her visit had now turned important rather than just optional. She gazed at Haley in appreciative anticipation. “Yes, yes,” she said, crossing her legs slowly to show some thigh. She could see Haley’s eyes trailing down to her knees. “The HAL—”

  “The HAP,” Haley corrected.

  “Ah, yes, the HAP. I’m sorry. My English!” She shook her head as if she would never reach full fluency.

  “Your English is terrific,” Haley said, letting his eyes linger on her breasts.

  “Danke.”

  “Bitte,” Haley shot back with a grin, his eyes gleaming with desire. His hand swept up to brush his hair back as if he had a thick mane.

  “And the film?” Rona prompted with a coquettish smile. “Please.”

  “OK,” Haley said, as if he were advancing his film’s cause. “The working title is Man of the Militia, but it will probably change to something more commercial. I may work in some of the things that have been going on here.”

  “Really? With that girl, Holly Baker?”

  “Holly Baxter,” Haley said patiently as Rona crossed her legs again, slowly smoothing her skirt down. Again, she noted how his eyes trailed her movement. There was nothing subtle about this would-be seducer. How did men like this rise to become producers and live in expensive houses like this? she wondered, feeling a tinge of bitterness. She didn’t care who was in power; one group was as bad as another. But movies and television shows could have been made more tasteful and informative.

  “Very interesting,” Rona said. How about Dupe of the Militia or Dunce of the Militia? she thought to herself.

  When the interview over, Haley, as expected, offered to show her the rest of his miniestate. Outside on the patio, Haley stood by his large pool and adjoining Jacuzzi, evincing obvious pride at its size. “I really love it out here,” he said. “It’s great to take a dip at night, sit in the Jacuzzi . . . ” He paused for a moment and then said without any more prologue or subtlety. “Would you like to go for a swim?”

  Rona gave him a submissive look as if she were overcome by his charm and masculinity.

  Haley smiled in triumph at this expected result. He embraced her, running his hand down her back to caress her rump. She had a pistol in her purse, but she wouldn’t need it. Haley was going to go for his final dip.

  BB had said to be thorough, and he would be, Luke thought. Before BB and Rona left on their separate missions, he got a chance to ask Rona where she had last seen her nail file.

  “I don’t remember,” Rona said, irritated both at being asked and at herself for being at fault. “Probably in the bathroom, but which one? And I could have dropped it anywhere after taking it out of my purse.”

  “Luke, has Holly been running around the house?” Bender was prepared to let out a blast. His eyes were little firestorms.

  “No way,” Luke said in self-defense. “You know she stays in her room almost all the time.”

  “Except when you entertain her playing checkers,” Rona said as if Luke had done something wrong, too.

  Luke stared without any visible emotion at Bender to see his reaction. No wonder Rona had never been married, he thought, taking satisfaction from that observation. She wasn’t the most pleasant person, and he had always tried to please her while being polite. Bender was fair, and he treated him with consideration, too—most of the time.

  “Be thorough,” Bender repeated as if he were weary from their bic
kering.

  After going to the service porch to get a screwdriver and wrench, Luke went to the bathroom, where he proceeded to dismantle the room. All the tiles were in place, and he decided not to lift them up. He doubted that Holly, if she had found Rona’s nail file, would actually try the cabinet woodwork as a hiding place a second time. But to make sure, he wedged the wood and plaster loose. Nothing. He felt underneath the bathtub as far as he could to locate scotch tape or any sort of adhesive. There wasn’t any point in loosening any of the lighting and shower fixtures, as a nail file couldn’t possibly be hidden there.

  Satisfied, he decided to just check the rest of the house before going through Holly’s room. This search also turned up nothing. Chances were, Luke thought, that Rona lost the damn nail file somewhere else. But he had better be as sure as he could be, as BB would certainly question him.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Holly,” Luke said politely as Holly opened the unlocked door. Rona, he knew, tended to just barge in, but he and BB knocked first. “I have to search your room.”

  Holly immediately knew what Luke was looking for, but she glanced at him with a blank stare as if she were surprised by the intrusion. Rona had finally noticed her nail was missing. Now Holly was glad she had changed the hiding place. Her shoes would have been examined, and she saw that Luke had his usual tools with him, including the Swiss army knife he always carried. In her turmoil she had even reconsidered covering the blunt end of it and hiding it inside her rectal cavity. Men did it, she remembered as she thought about the movie Papillon. Wasn’t it Dustin Hoffman who stored money in his bowels or somewhere? It was disgusting, and for all she knew, Rona was certainly capable of conducting an invasive body search.

  Luke systematically took the bed apart, went through her meager assortment of clothing and then—as she watched with a silent sigh of relief—pried the heels and soles of her shoes loose. If he was this methodical throughout the entire house, she feared she was out of luck.

  “Thank you, Holly,” Luke said at last. “Sorry for the mess.”

  “No problem,” Holly said, smiling as if she accepted the search with grace. “Always glad to cooperate.”

  She thought she saw a grin spreading on Luke’s broad face, but then he caught himself. Was he afraid to show normal human emotions? she wondered. He was probably a decent human being distorted by this evil organization!

  “Just what are you looking for?” she asked in all innocence. “Or is this just a general—what is it called?—lockdown?”

  “Uh, just a general check,” Luke lied. Holly sensed that Luke still had a semi-apologetic feeling about being her captor, though she knew there was no way that he could be turned.

  “I see. And you have to go over the entire house?”

  “You were the last stop,” Luke said.

  “That’s a lot of work,” Holly said, sympathizing with Luke’s labors. She gave him a warm look.

  “Do you want to play checkers?” Luke asked with a hopeful expression, trying to compensate for the room search.

  “Oh, Luke, thanks, but I have a headache,” Holly lied. “Maybe later.” Playing checkers was the last thing she wanted to do, as she had slipped the nail file into the underside of the game’s cellophane box.

  "Barry, please excuse the mess," Stacy said as she led Bender into her condo near the beach in Santa Monica. From a window the dark expanse of the Pacific Ocean could be discerned as the night fell. They had dined at an Italian restaurant, and then she had invited the man she called Barry up to her place for a nightcap.

  "It's quite nice," Bender said, taking a quick look at the spacious living room. Dominated by twin magenta couches flanking a long, glass-top coffee table, the room had a cozy feel. A large mahogany bookcase with a television console lay solidly against one wall. Woodcuts and pastoral prints hung on another wall. Several potted plants lurked in the corner near the window.

  "Thank you," Stacy said. She took every opportunity when Bender looked away to study him. She figured he was probably doing the same, calculating his chances. What a propitious meeting, she thought, as she watched him place his briefcase on the couch. She didn't like to frequent singles bars, and it was difficult to meet single and appropriate men, especially for a woman her age. Barry had been shopping in the same supermarket, and their carts just happened to collide. The handsome rogue, no doubt, engineered the minor crash, Stacy thought with a smile. If he hadn’t created the encounter, she would have. Then they started chatting and hit it off, and he invited her to have dinner with him. It had been a nice dinner at an expensive restaurant, too. He must do well, she thought. Now they were in her apartment. Looking good, Stace, old girl, she thought. Good thing she had changed the sheets in case things got that far.

  "What would you like to drink?" Stacy asked.

  "Gin and tonic," Bender said. As Stacy made his drink, he commented, "I would have thought I'd see more travel souvenirs, with you being in the travel business and all."

  Mexican pottery and Finnish glassware sat on some shelves, but she didn't want to overload the living room with travel objects. She had bought many interesting items on her frequent inspection trips around the world on behalf of Tramerica, though. It would make too much of a statement about her work and look like a mini-museum.

  Still she smiled. What did Barry say he did? Computer sales? Travel sounded so glamorous to people; they didn't understand the work that went into creating, marketing and operating tours. But she had been to over a hundred countries, and she enjoyed that aspect of her work enormously.

  "I have some great souvenirs, but I keep them in the bedroom.” Stacy hesitated a moment, afraid to be too forward, but his eyes showed his desire. “I'll give you a tour later if you're interested."

  Bender smiled. “Very much.”

  Stacy nodded, acknowledging the silent agreement.

  “Yes. I enjoy traveling, too,” Bender said with an appreciative smile. “But I haven’t seen all the places you have. That’s very impressive.”

  “Well, we can start closer to home,” Stacy said, meeting his eyes with a look of competitive acceptance. Now that the dance of signals was over, Barry slid over and kissed her without hesitation. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as his hand drifted down to her waist and then grazed her buttocks. Still in an embrace, they sidled into the bedroom.

  Twelve

  WEDNESDAY

  “Well-known Film Producer Found Floating in Pool” was the lure to get viewers to stay tuned to the news program, and I was hooked. I was so sure it was Buzz Haley that I didn't even get out of bed, though I really had to go to the bathroom. After less than 120 seconds of absurd commercials, my premonition was borne out. Buzz Haley was dead. Police were investigating the cause. While there was no evidence of foul play. I knew the HAP had to be responsible, and I figured the police thought the same, though they weren’t saying so. No mention was made of the Real Patriots, which reinforced my opinion that they were a bogus group. Holly Baxter wasn’t cited, either, thank God. Alcohol was in Haley’s body as well as a lot of water, and the public theory was he had been drunk and then drowned. What had happened to the manifestos? Had they run out of paper? A new strategy? There hadn't been any mention of the ultimatum. The lull before the storm . . . ?

  The professors and the councilwoman must have been wondering if they were next in this assassination-of-the-day series conducted by the HAP. Had they asked for police protection? If they hadn't, they should.

  I was going to call Val, but the phone rang; it was Conrad. He apologized for calling so early.

  More as a joke, I invited him to come to my talk. I was entitled to bring a guest and had planned to ask Stacy since Val wasn't available.

  "Thanks, but I'll pass," Conrad said. "Good luck, though."

  We danced around what we were doing, not doing and perhaps accomplishing but couldn't agree on a time to meet. I wondered what he was telling Baxter to justify his retainer and expenses.

  Of course
, I might have the same problem either with Wolcott or ultimately DeCosta. Val and I were eating well, if nothing else.

  “What’s going on here?” Mayor Waldon demanded to know. “Now we have Buzz Haley, a second member of that committee, dead. And no one thinks it was an accident. Someone must have drowned him.”

  “We’re still investigating that,” Calpin said.

  “Well, people are dying while you’re investigating. Do you think the HAP is responsible for the deaths of Shuster and Haley, or is there really another bunch of thugs we have to worry about as well?”

  Calpin sighed. “At this point, we don’t know. It’s probably the HAP, but it doesn’t have their usual signature. No signature at all. They’ve taken credit for everything else they’ve done.”

  “But it could be a ruse, couldn’t it?”

  ”Yes it, could. It could also be an accidental drowning.”

  Mayor Waldon frowned. “I want you to give extra protection to everyone else on that Shuster committee,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” Calpin said.

  "But Luke, look at it this way,” Bender said as he sat with Rona in the living room of their latest safe house, “you don't have to sleep with anyone. I had to make love to that silly woman in order to hide our manifestos in her closet."

  “And you didn’t enjoy it?” Rona said to chide him.

  Bender shrugged. “And you were chaste with the film producer?” he asked Rona.

  “Not entirely,” Rona said with a guilty smile. “We played a bit in the pool before his final dunk.”

  “A doubleheader in different parks,” Bender said, chuckling.

  “You guys get to do everything,” Luke said. He looked at his compatriots with admiration. They did things he could never do. How could they fake being with someone like that? It was sure beyond his ability. Driving, shopping, cooking and babysitting Holly were his specialties. But out in the woods, it was another story. He was the one who knew what to do, when to do it and how to do it. BB knew this, but he wasn’t sure about Rona.

 

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