by Amber Wyatt
The forty-five-minute drive back to Miami was silent. Raj kept a close eye on the road but occasionally he would look in his rear-view mirror and catch sight of Gina looking out of the window with a haunted look on her face. There was nothing to look at except the passing cars, but he had a feeling it was not the traffic that she saw in her mind’s eye.
Gina had that same solemn look on her face now as she sat at the table sipping her hot water and looking at Behnke.
“So, you went to Zombietown this morning,” she said. “And tomorrow you’re going back. What happened, you couldn’t get into World of Zombies because of the queue? You regret not buying that zombie fridge magnet and you want to go back?” Gina looked sideways at Wilkins who was tucking into his buffet, wearing a Zombietown favorite, a T-shirt with printed zombie hands clutching him as if from behind.
“No,” Behnke gritted his teeth. He was accustomed to people falling over themselves to show him respect, and had little practice in how to deal with sarcasm. “I am not going to Zombietown to purchase tasteless tourist kitsch. I am mounting an expedition over the wall. Into. The. Quarantine. Zone.” He enunciated each word very deliberately. He was gratified to see her facial expression change.
Behnke was both egotistical and naïve enough to think that it was because she was impressed. Gina tried to keep her face expressionless but inside she was shocked to her core. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and suspicion. He’s a billionaire sure, but how could he have guessed or learned my secret? Is this some sort of elaborate prank? It’s impossible! Yet the astronomically small odds of her being sat at this table totally by chance, next to someone who might be able to take her into the zone the next day, seemed equally improbable.
“Bullshit.” she blurted out after a long pause. “How are you getting in?”
“It’s a secret,” Behnke grinned back, tapping the side of his nose. “But I can assure you, that I am completely serious.”
“Why on earth are you, of all people, going into the zone?”
“I’m going zombie hunting,” Behnke stated proudly. He held a philosophy that women found hunters sexy. There was something primal about a man who could both protect and provide.
“Hunting?” Gina’s eyes darkened dangerously. “They are people. Just like you and me. They’re just sick.” Something in her tone of voice alerted Thomas’s professional instincts that his employer might be in imminent physical danger, and he shifted his feet a little in case he needed to move quickly.
“Oh please, spare me,” Behnke snorted. “Are you one of those ZLM nutcases that think we should all be hugging these abominations until they feel better? They aren’t even alive.” He hesitated for a moment, for once looking at her as not just a pretty face. There were plenty of zombie sympathizers pushing for a law to be passed which would result in an automatic assumption of murder if a zombie were killed. They argued that it was no different to killing someone with asthma or some other chronic condition. Maybe this girl was with the ZLM or one of those other groups?
“They aren’t even alive? How do you know?” Gina’s eyes bored into him relentlessly.
“Well…” Behnke paused thinking. How did one define life? The zombies certainly were capable of movement. But in any event the ability to move hardly qualified; there were plants, mushrooms, corals that were immobile yet undoubtedly still alive. He realized that his thoughts were wandering. “They cannot reproduce. Every living thing can, that’s how you define living creatures,” he stated triumphantly.
“I see,” Gina’s voice was pure ice. “So infertile women, or women past the menopause, or gay couples. None of these ‘abominations’ qualify as alive for you?”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re twisting my words,” Behnke cast a look at Thomas who was scowling at him as well. What the hell was his problem? Must be some gay thing. “Look, alive or dead or sick, I think we can all agree that they are monsters. Mindless killers that we need to defend ourselves from.”
“So, you’ve come all the way from the West coast, to mount an expedition into the quarantine zone in order to defend yourself from these monsters?” Gina rolled her eyes. “How very brave of you.”
“Look, you know what?” Behnke felt another unexpected surge of candidness coming up from somewhere deep inside. He hoped this was not going to become a habit. “I just said that stuff about hunting to try and impress you. I am going into the zone for a totally different reason, A secret reason, one that I really cannot talk to you about.”
Gina looked at him for a long moment, considering her options. Maybe this is just a lucky coincidence. After all, if you’re going to get into the zone you certainly need a ton of money and resources. She thought ruefully back to her own failed enquiries about sneaking into the zone herself. And there’s not many places in Miami a billionaire would stop for lunch. It’s not that implausible that me bumping into him here is a just a fortunate twist of fate. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?
“Take me with you,” she said finally.
Ha! Behnke grinned, baring his new, white veneers. He knew it. With biceps like these, he was irresistible. “And why would I want to do something like that?” Behnke asked smugly. Now that he knew he had something she wanted, he had the upper hand, and he felt much happier on this more familiar territory. He would take her with him of course, but first he wanted to make her squirm a little and apologize. This happy train of thought was interrupted by a sudden increase in the volume of the background chatter as a wave of excitement swept through the restaurant. Behnke looked up towards the main entrance and was greeted by the sight of two police officers making their way towards his table. They walked directly up to Gina, and took up positions on each side of her.
“Excuse me ma’am would you mind showing me some identification please?” The first policeman was strictly on best behavior, conscious of the dozens of pairs of eyes watching his every step. Many of the diners had their phones out and were filming the encounter. It was probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened in Angelo’s.
“Excuse me officer,” Behnke leaned forward, eager to use the opportunity to start acting the alpha male in front of his future girlfriend. “Do you know who I am?”
The policeman turned towards him, scowling, his mouth already opening for a sharp retort. He knew all about the kind of assholes who said ‘do you know who I am’. They were usually the assholes he ended up arresting for obstruction. Then the expression on his face flashed quickly to astonishment before lapsing immediately back into blank professionalism. He actually did know who this guy was. Philip Behnke was a huge deal. Even more so than the woman he had come to arrest. There was definitely no room to deviate from procedure here.
“Yes, I do know who you are, Mr. Behnke, but if you will excuse me, sir, my business here today is nothing to do with you.” He turned back to Gina. “Ma’am, I believe you are the performing artiste known as Gina An? I am afraid that we have received credible information that you are planning to enter the Fort Lauderdale quarantine zone. You’ll have to come with us.”
Gina narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to reply but Behnke stepped in again. “No, she is not. This young lady is my personal assistant, Miss Lee, and if you want to talk to any of my staff, you will have to go through my lawyers first.” He turned to Gina and lifted his hand in a cautioning gesture. “Don’t say anything at all, my dear. One phone call and I’ll have twenty of Miami’s top attorneys here in ten minutes.” Gina snapped her mouth shut in surprise and looked at Behnke, re-evaluating him with what might have been something bordering on respect.
Thomas rose from his chair, and the policeman stepped back involuntarily as the huge bodyguard towered above him. “If I might point out something, Officer?” Thomas spoke softly but his deep voice and pronounced German accent riveted the sergeant’s attention. “Gina An is well known to be a colossal diva, famous for her unreasonable demands, her tantrums, and most of all, famous for her huge entour
age. She is accompanied at all times by numerous stylists, personal assistants, publicists, backing dancers, band members, bottom-wipers and other hangers-on, her many flunkies carrying her special water and alternative medicines, and of course her large security team. Everywhere they go, they need to book out the entire floor of a hotel to accommodate them all.” Thomas deliberately looked around the table, raising his eyebrows comically. “If this is indeed, the famous diva, then where are all her staff?” To be honest, Thomas was wondering exactly the same thing himself. The two policemen looked around dutifully but it was hardly necessary. It was clear that the petite woman was alone at Behnke’s table.
“Sarge, that’s not her.” The black cop fished out his cell phone and showed his sergeant the brightly glittering phone cover with “GINA!” written across the back in pink crystals. “My daughter is a huge fan. I’ve been to six goddamn concerts and I’d recognize her a mile away.” He nodded towards Gina. “That ain’t her.”
“This is some kind of Aryan brotherhood, racist bullshit. Like, do all Asians look the same to you?” Gina broke her silence shrilly. The multi-ethnic clientele at Angelo’s were rich and accustomed to speaking their minds. Loudly. And often to their local mayor or congressman. A shrill and outraged muttering rose up from around the restaurant as they closed ranks against an outsider harassing one of their own.
The sergeant backed away half a step with a sudden look of alarm on his face. “No! Not at all,” he held up his hands placatingly, “look we just got a tip-off and we need to check it out. So, if you can just provide your details…”
“A tip-off about what?” Gina raised her voice loud enough that most of the restaurant was listening in with great interest. “What’s the crime? There’s a woman guilty of eating while Asian? There’s an ethnic minority hanging around in a white man’s restaurant? This is ridiculous!”
“Ma’am if you could just show some kind of identification…”
“For what? Are you going to ask if I’m in this country legally now?” she shouted at him. “This is harassment! I’m going to sue your white-supremacist ass so hard you’ll be handing out parking tickets until your goddamn retirement.” The background mutter from amongst the curious, high-flying Miami diners took on a darker, more dangerous tone. A few smartly dressed men and women craned their necks forward in a predatory fashion. Gina assumed they were lawyers.
“Sarge, why don’t I handle this?” The black cop stepped in between the two of them. He looked Gina in the eye. “Ma’am I’m officer Manning and I assure you I am not racist.” His eyes twinkled but his face was straight as a gravestone, without any hint of a smile.
“Yeah I’ll talk to this officer.” Gina fumed, pointing her finger at the sergeant, “you back off out of my face.”
The police sergeant smiled uncomfortably and moved back to the hostess station to talk to the front-of-house hostess. Gina and Manning moved off to a side alcove away from the main restaurant floor. He took out his notebook and pen but did not write anything. The two of them just stood and looked at each other.
“So, your daughter is a huge fan, huh?” Gina said quietly, glancing down at the glittering cell phone which was still in his hand. “How old is she?”
“She’s twelve,” Manning met her eyes steadily, “her name is Grace and she’s totally obsessed with everything you do. If she ever found out that her own daddy arrested Gina… I don’t even want to imagine,” he grimaced, “I mean my life would not be worth living, trust me.”
“Grace,” Gina pursed her lips thoughtfully. She took the notebook out of his hands and quickly scribbled a note in it. “I’m writing a quick note to Grace, telling her that her daddy is a hero and that you saved my life.” She signed it off with a flourish and pointed at his phone, “unlock that.”
Manning unlocked the phone with a swipe and Gina took it off him, “This is for young Grace in case she doesn’t believe you.” She quickly looked around to make sure that they were out of sight from the main restaurant and then hugged him closely, leaning her head on his chest, smiling up at the camera and snapping off three or four selfies.
A brilliant smile lit up Manning’s face and disappeared as quickly as it had come. “She is going to be thrilled,” his voice was still just as quiet as Gina’s, the two of them barely audible. “Okay what did that guy call you, Miss Lee? I’m going to just fill in some made up details, but it’s not going to keep them for long. As soon as we get back downstairs to the cruiser and punch it into the system, they’ll know it’s fake. You’ve got maybe five minutes.”
“Who was it? The tip-off?”
Manning hesitated for a second. “Pam. Your make-up stylist. She was scared for you.”
Gina nodded, squeezed his arm in goodbye, then whirled around and headed straight over to Behnke who was sat back down at his table.
“Give me your hotel key card,” she hissed. While he fumbled through his pockets, she quirked an eyebrow sideways at Thomas. “Colossal diva? Tantrums? Really?” But her eyes were smiling as she said it.
Behnke gave up looking for his card and instead gestured to Thomas. With surprising dexterity, the huge man palmed a key card from out of nowhere and slid it across the table to Gina. “The WOW hotel, Presidential suite,” Thomas said quietly but clearly. She nodded almost imperceptibly, made the card disappear into her clutch, and in the blink of an eye she was gone, the staff door to the kitchen rocking back and forth behind her.
“Did you hear that? She can’t wait to get into my hotel room,” Behnke preened. “Did you see how she noticed me taking charge of that situation? Totally alpha behavior, right? Chicks dig the kind of man who mount expeditions like mine. A real man. An adventurous man. The adrenalin makes them super horny. It’s science.”
In fact, Behnke had originally invited a famous lingerie model to accompany him into the zone, to act both as decorative eye candy for the documentary and also as a private audience to his own personal heroics. His sales pitch to her was that afterwards she would be the most famous model on the planet. When she had realized that Behnke was actually serious about taking her into the quarantine zone, she had immediately turned him down and blocked his number.
Thomas was still looking at the door through which Gina had disappeared. “Are you sure that was wise?” He looked back at his employer, troubled.
“It’s fine, Thomas. It’s going to be great.” Behnke could hardly wait to get into the zone and begin impressing her with his tactical skills and some of the manly poses he had been practicing in anticipation of being on camera.
“It’s not going to be great. It’s going to be a huge pain in the ass.”
“No, my friend. Meeting Trina like this is perfect. It is too fortuitous to be mere coincidence. It’s fate or karma or something.”
“Her name’s Gina,” Thomas corrected him absent-mindedly. Fate? Karma? To Thomas it was nothing of the sort. Behnke would have gone after any pretty face. Fan of her music or not, Thomas took his job seriously and he was responsible for his employer’s safety throughout the upcoming expedition. Gina was not a trained soldier; she was a spoilt popstar. That woman is a liability, Thomas thought grimly to himself. I’ll have to watch her closely.
Chapter Sixteen
Into The Breach
It was still early the next morning when the convoy of sleek, black SUVs pulled up in front of the hotel, and the door staff rushed out and started opening their doors. Parked down the road, Officer Manning stretched in the seat of his police car and put away the now cold coffee that he had been nursing for the last hour or so. Despite the long wait, he was cheerful. He had been thinking back to the night before when he had shown his shrieking daughter Grace the photos of himself and Gina. The little girl had been both thrilled into hysterics at the secret message that Gina had written to her, and also desperately jealous that her father had actually met her idol, without Grace being there too. “You’re my hero forever Daddy!” The smile on Manning’s face faded. He would not be his
daughter’s hero for much longer, after she learned that he had arrested Gina this morning.
“Finally,” his sergeant grunted over the radio from his own car parked on the other side of the lobby. “Here they come. I’m busting for a leak after all that coffee.” The concierge had tipped them off that the singer intended to leave at six a.m. but it was now nearly seven.
Gina’s crew and personal staff began to decant themselves from the hotel lobby and into the cars waiting in the early Miami sun. The entourage was as large and impressive as they had expected. Then the sergeant stiffened as two identical, petite Asian ladies wearing obscuring hats and sunglasses scurried quickly out of the hotel and into two separate vehicles.
“Shit.” He grabbed the radio handset off the dashboard. “She’s got a double,” he roared. “I’ll take the first car. Manning, you take the second.”
“Second car, got it.” Manning answered.
The sergeant cursed savagely as the first two SUVs in the convoy pulled out into the road and stopped, blocking both the traffic and, as if by coincidence, his two police cars which had just pulled away from the curb. With a screech of squealing tires, the two other vehicles containing the singer and her double peeled out of the hotel driveway behind the impromptu roadblock, and accelerated away down the road. It took an endless thirty seconds and the application of flashing lights and blaring sirens for the two police cars to get past the blockage before they could set off in pursuit of the two black SUVs which by now had reached the first set of traffic lights and split left and right, each one heading in a different direction.
Gina however, was not in either car. She was twenty miles away, sat in the back of Behnke’s limousine which was parked up on the runway next to a hangar at a private airfield.