Harry Bronson Box Set

by L C Hayden

  “I just left Ellen at the mall. She loves to shop, so she’s happy. Told her I’d pick her up later, and we’ll go eat. I didn’t tell her what we’re doing, but I’m sure she knows something’s up. I’m back to Ellen’s car and I’m getting in. “Tell me where to go, and be nice about it.”

  “It would never cross my mind not to tell you exactly where you should go.”

  Bronson and Mike agreed to meet on the corner of Hercules and Diana Dr. From there, Bronson would lead them to the alley behind the row of restaurants. Mike would follow the Camry. “Give me about fifteen minutes to get there.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes too. We’ll call each other as we get close.” Bronson turned to head toward the intersection. His cell beeped once. Someone had just texted him. He pulled over, giving the rearview mirror a glance. The Camry had also pulled over.

  Bronson retrieved his message. No words, a picture instead. Ellen, obviously enjoying herself at the mall. Bronson looked at the picture carefully. He sat up straighter. He recognized the blond man beside her. He’d been the one who had followed him to Lorraine’s house and later showed up in front of Miller’s house.

  Assuming the picture had just been taken, that meant that the blond-headed man was with Ellen right now. Bronson had assumed that the blond man was driving the Camry, following him. He looked through the rearview mirror. The Camry had disappeared.

  Couldn’t worry about that now. He had to call Ellen and Mike. He reached for his cell when it began to ring. The digital display read Unavailable. It had to be the blond. How had he gotten hold of his cell number? Bronson punched the send button. “Yes?”

  “I suppose by now you’ve figured out we have Ellen.”

  A woman’s voice. Who the hell was that? The black haired beauty who hung around with the blond? Bronson’s full attention focused on her voice. Could he detect a trace of accent? He paid close attention to the background noises. Someone nearby honked and a rush of wind swirled. Whoever this woman was, she was outdoors, possibly in a car. Bronson looked at the cars around him. No one seemed to be paying attention. “Who is this?”

  “No reason not to tell you. I’m known as the Raven.”

  Bronson held his breath. She had given him her name, even if it was a nickname. Knowing your adversary’s name always put the victim at an advantage. She would know that. Yet she had told him. Why? “Okay, Raven, tell me what you want.” His smooth, calm voice betrayed no sign of fear or apprehension.

  “My friend is with Ellen right now.”

  “That would be the blond.”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “You’re asking too many questions. Ask only what’s important.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  Bronson shook himself. “Apparently you have me, or at least you have my attention.”

  “Then listen carefully. You do as I say and nothing will happen to Ellen. In fact, she doesn’t even know she’s in danger. Only thing that has happened to her is that my friend, who’s an excellent pick-pocket, lifted her cell. Contacting her will be a waste of time but by all means feel free to try. Then there’s Hoover. I know you’re to meet him on the corner of Hercules and Diana.”

  How in the world did she know that? Bronson ran his hand under the car seat, then under the driver’s unit. He located the bug. “Seems like you have me at a disadvantage.”

  “Indeed I do because I have someone else waiting at that corner. He will shoot Hoover if I tell him to.”

  “You said you wanted me. You’ve got me. What must I do so that you leave Hoover and Ellen alone?”

  “Simply step out of the car. Walk half-a-block north and you will see the green Camry. I know you know which car I’m talking about. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “What guarantee do I have that you won’t harm Hoover or Ellen?”

  “You don’t know me yet, but you will. You will find that I’m a woman of my word. Now start walking, and Bronson, we know you got a gun. It would be very wise of you to leave it on the passenger floor. We’ll walk by your car. Make sure it’s there. Leave the passenger door unlocked.”

  Bronson felt like a bird whose feathers had been plucked. What else did she know?

  “One more thing,” the Raven said.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve got exactly seven minutes to reach my car. That gives you plenty of time to get rid of the gun and do whatever else you need to do. If I even think I see the police, I’ll give the order to kill Hoover and Ellen.”

  The Raven disconnected. Bronson looked at his watch. He had seven minutes to come up with some kind of a plan.

  Chapter 55

  Soon as Bronson headed away from the car and reached the intersection, Jack crept out from the shadows and approached Bronson’s car. He slipped on a pair of gloves and opened the front door.

  He smiled. The Raven had said that Bronson would do as told. He’d leave the gun on the floor and there it was, just as the Raven had predicted. She was always right and so beautiful.

  So, so beautiful.

  He picked up the pistol, one of those foreign jobs. The Raven would love that. She’d add it to her collection of trophies. The guns decorating her living room walls had come from the men and women she’d killed, and each had carried a gun. Some had been hoods, others, hunters. She’d even killed people who carried concealed weapons.

  But never a policeman. Bronson would be the first, and Jack could see the Raven’s anticipation pouring out of her like sap dripping out of a tree. That thought thrilled Jack.

  He couldn’t wait to hand her the pistol. He pocketed it, and then speed dialed the Raven. When she answered, he said, “I got the gun. He’s ahead of me. He should be there shortly. I’m coming up behind him.”

  “You better move it. I may need help with Bronson, but afterwards, I want you to leave. Bronson is all mine.” She watched the sidewalk through the side mirror. Seconds later, she spotted Bronson. “I see him.” The Raven stepped out and leaned against the car. She held her cell in her hand.

  *****

  While still in the rental and after getting his instructions from the Raven, Bronson put himself on speed mode. First, he called Ellen, knowing it would go to voice mail, hoping it didn’t. Bronson left a generic message. “Hope you’re well and having fun.” Bronson disconnected and called Mike.

  As he waited for the connection, he took the Makarov and emptied it, putting the rounds in his pocket.

  “You sure got there fast,” Mike said. “I’m—”

  “Turn back. The blond headed man who’s been following us is with Ellen.”

  “What—”

  “The Raven promised me neither you nor Ellen would be harmed as long as I go with her. I’m on my way to meet her now.”

  “The Raven? Who . . . what . . . Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  Bronson opened the glove compartment, tore a page from his spiral pocket notebook, wrote down Blond twins? and stuffed the paper in the glove compartment. “The Raven knew about the Makarov. She made me leave it behind. Call Devono and tell him I’m sorry, I won’t be returnin’ his pistol. I’m headin’ for the Camry now. I’m leaving our car parked on Vulcan Avenue. Also, there’s no use callin’ Ellen. Our blond guy lifted her cell. Be happy with Ellen.”

  Bronson disconnected and rummaged through the glove compartment. He found Ellen’s fingernail file, but nothing else that might be useful. He put the file in his pocket. His cell played the tune he had assigned to Mike. He let it go to voicemail.

  He scooted down and reached under the driver’s seat, his fingers searching for the Astra. Chances were the Raven would frisk him, and he’d lose this gun too, but at least carrying made him feel better, somewhat safer. He tucked the pistol between the small of his back and his jeans. He patted his boot to reassure himself that the knife was still there.

  Bronson reached for the door handle and took his time getting out of the car. He
put on his sunglasses and glanced around, looking for anything out of place. A man, half-hidden by a store’s columns, could be the blond. Bronson headed in a northerly direction for approximately ten feet. He took off his sunglasses and used the mirror side to look behind him.

  A man walked toward Bronson’s car, probably to retrieve the weapon. Bronson slowed his pace, put his sunglasses back on, took out the cell, and dialed Joe Randig’s number.

  The voice message informed him that Detective Randig was currently unavailable, but feel free to leave a detailed message and a phone number. “This is Bronson. I’m being kidnapped by a woman, code name the Raven. She works with at least one blond headed man, possibly two. My partner’s name is Mike Hoover. He knows about the blond and about the car.” Bronson gave the detective Mike’s cell number. “I see a woman standing by the Camry where we’re supposed to meet. She’s got black hair down to her waist. Around five-seven, knock-out looks, late twenties or early thirties, about one-hundred and twenty pounds. I’m almost there so I need to disconnect. I’ll keep the cell on as long as I have service. You can track me through the phone.” He disconnected and put the mobile in his pants pocket.

  He walked at a steady pace the rest of the block. He stopped when he reached the Camry. The woman stepped in front of him.

  “I assume you’re the Raven.”

  Her eyes scrutinized him, from top to bottom. “Take your sunglasses off. I like to see a man’s eyes when I speak to him.”

  Using slow, deliberate movements, Bronson removed his glasses, folded them, and placed them in his shirt pocket.

  She raised her hand, revealing the cell. “I report in every fifteen to thirty minutes. I do that, all’s well. If I fail to call, my friends have instructions to kill Ellen and Hoover.”

  “Understood.”

  “Good. In that case, you’ll behave and won’t give me any problems.”

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  The Raven looked at Bronson’s shoes. “Are those boots?”

  “They are. I’m from Texas.”

  “Soon as you get in the car, take them off, and I don’t care where you’re from.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Get on the back seat, facing down, hands behind your back.”

  Bronson took a step toward the Camry.

  “I’m not a fool, Bronson. Everyone will be looking for you in this car. We’re ditching it.” She indicated the four-door, silver Ford truck parked in front of the Camry. “That’s our new ride.”

  Shiiit.

  Chapter 56

  Ten minutes.

  Mike had been searching the mall for ten frickin minutes and so far, no trace of Ellen. With each passing second, his heartbeat accelerated. Bronson had been assured Ellen wouldn’t be hurt, but could he be sure?

  He tried her mobile three times, only to have the answering machine direct him to voice mail. Bronson had told him it would, but still, he had to try.

  Logically, it would be nearly impossible to find anyone in the mall. The three-story, one block long mall offered dozens of stores Ellen could get lost in.

  Mike headed toward the security booth. “I’d like to talk to the head of security.”

  The youth inside the booth couldn’t possibly be more than twenty years old, if that. “He’s not here.” He popped his gum.

  “Then page him.”

  “Uh.” He looked around as though searching for someone to tell him what to do.

  Mike pounded the counter with his opened hand. “Now.”

  The youth jumped and let out a little grunt. “Sure. Sure.”

  While waiting for the head security man to show, Mike focused on the security screens that highlighted various parts of the mall. The image blinked every thirty seconds, exposing a different part of the mall. Mike hoped to spot Ellen in one of those.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  Mike pivoted to face a gray haired man. “You’re head of security?”

  He nodded.

  “My name is Mike Hoover.” He retrieved his badge and showed it to him. “I’m a detective for the Dallas Police Department.”

  “You’re a little out of your jurisdiction.”

  “I am, but I’m working with the Pittsburgh Police to solve a crime mutual to both of our cities.” Not quite true, but Mike didn’t mind stretching the truth in this case. “We believe that one of your shoppers may be in danger. We received a lead that the killer is also here in the mall.”

  The security guard’s eyes widened and his bushy eyebrows bobbed several times.

  Better calm him before he panicked, if he hadn’t already. “He’s not stupid enough to draw attention to himself, but we do need the woman paged.”

  The guard’s jaw moved up and down as though he were a cow chewing. “Her name?”

  “Ellen Biebesheimer.” For once, Mike was glad she had reverted to her maiden name after their divorce.

  The head of security led Mike back to the main control room located near the other mall’s offices, behind the store-fronts. He handed Mike the microphone. “You page her.” He flipped the switch and nodded, indicating he was live.

  “Attention, shoppers.” He paused long enough to allow shoppers to listen. “Will Ellen Biebesheimer please report to the security booth on the second floor? Repeating: Ellen Biebesheimer, report to the security booth on the second floor.” Mike handed the head of security the microphone and hoped Ellen had heard him.

  His insides grumbled with apprehension. “Thank you.” He dashed out, heading for the booth.

  Ellen, be there. Please, be there.

  The head of security followed him out, keeping pace with him. “This . . . this killer . . .”

  “Is only interested in Ellen. He won’t do anything foolish.” Or at least Mike hoped not. They took the escalator heading back to the booth. They reached the top.

  Mike maneuvered his way around the unconcerned shoppers, the guard close to him. One more turn and Mike would be able to see the booth.

  Be there.

  Somewhere from behind him, he heard his name. “Mike.”

  He turned and saw Ellen rushing toward him. Mike let out the air he’d been holding. He breathed through his mouth, forcing his nerves to calm.

  “What’s wrong?” Ellen looked behind Mike, to his left, to his right. “Is Bronson okay?”

  “I . . . don’t know. I’m not sure.” He wrapped his arm around her and led her toward the exit. “I’ll explain everything. Let’s get you home.”

  Behind them, the head of security stared at them, then at the people around them.

  Chapter 57

  Bronson did as told.

  He removed his boots and placed them on the floor in a way that the boot pocket remained hidden. He lay down in the truck’s back seat, his hands behind his back. The Raven climbed into the driver’s side and the blond who had been stalking Bronson hopped up into the front passenger seat. Both closed the truck doors. She turned to face Bronson, pulled the gun, and pointed it at him. “You try anything cute, and you’re dead. And so are your friends.”

  “Best behavior, remember?” Bronson’s mind popped with possibilities, but as soon as each came, he discarded each idea. He wouldn’t take a chance on the Raven and her soldiers hurting Mike and Ellen.

  The blond leaned over and handcuffed his hands. He grabbed the cloth bag from the passenger seat and attempted to put in on Bronson’s head.

  He thrust his head back. “Tell your goon he doesn’t have to do that. The way he handcuffed me, I won’t be going anywhere.”

  “And the bag on your head won’t allow you to see where we’re going. Now shut up.” Using her free hand, she showed him the cell. “Do you really want for me to miss making that call?”

  Bronson closed his eyes and allowed her to put the bag over his head.

  After making sure the bag was loose enough to allow him to breath, but tight enough so it wouldn’t come off, Bronson felt the blond grab his ankles and place leg iro
ns on them.

  The front passenger door opened. “I’m out of here. Enjoy your time with Bronson.”

  “Oh, I plan to.”

  Something about her tone sent a chill running down Bronson’s spine.

  The front passenger door closed and the Raven said, “We’re ready to rock ’n roll.”

  Maybe she was, but Bronson sure wasn’t. The truck hadn’t even moved and already Bronson felt as comfortable as a man lying on a bed of ants. He hoped the ride was smooth and short.

  It wasn’t. The first part of the trip began with a few stops here and there. Bronson attributed those stops to stop signs and traffic lights. To make the time pass and to forget about how uncomfortable he felt, he counted the number of stops the truck made even though he figured that would be of little help since he had no idea which direction they headed.

  Approximately ten minutes later, the Raven made no more stops. Apparently, they had entered the freeway, as she drove at a steady rate. Bronson strained to listen. He heard tire noises as they sped up, a horn honking, the squeaking of brakes, and someone’s loud radio.

  Bronson heard her talking, more than likely, on the cell. He tilted his head, hoping for better reception, wishing he could get the damn bag off his head.

  “I got Bronson in the truck,” she said. “Everything is going according to plan. Keep an eye on Hoover and his main squeeze. If they become a threat, kill them. I’ll check in after I make that last turn.”

  Bronson hoped that wouldn’t be too long. His muscles screamed for relief.

  *****

  Ellen sat quietly listening to Mike’s explanation of the day’s events. Several times she closed her eyes as though attempting to keep tears from gushing out.

  Mike stroked her upper arm. “Are you okay?”

  Ellen sat without moving, staring at the scenery through tears that blurred everything. Mike drove like a maniac in his hurry to get her home. She sighed.