Guilty (8 page)

Yeah, he knew what to do. "What happens after I get her out?"

"Jessica made plans in case this happened. She selected a deprogrammer and gave her full legal authority in this matter. Take Jessica to her immediately. Her name is Raven Vanowen and she'll be expecting you." Prine gave Macklin Vanowen's Santa Monica address and the location of the TALC compound. "Jessica made me promise not to call the police. You aren't bound by that promise. You can call them. I suggest you do. If you go in there alone, you'll get killed. These people aren't playing games."

"Neither am I." Macklin hung up the phone and slid open the nightstand drawer. He pulled out his father's .357 Magnum and a handful of shells.

# # # # # #

9:00 p.m.

Fraser Nebbins stood in front of the den's picture window, staring into the impenetrable desert night. The blackness had swallowed everything. All light, all shape, all motion, had been overcome by darkness. It made Fraser feel like the only life in the cosmos.

He liked the feeling.

That's why he'd moved to the desert. Here, he had a stronger sense of control over his destiny. Here, life was put into perspective. Here, screams were absorbed into the dry earth. Here, he could behead an uncooperative subordinate in broad daylight with impunity. Here, Fraser Nebbins was king.

Nebbins sighed, took a sip of sherry from the goblet cradled in his hands, and turned away from the window. Someone rapped insistently at the door.

"Come in," Nebbins said.

Jessica Mordente stood solemnly in the doorway in a gray T-shirt and sweats, the standard TALC uniform for new recruits. She looked healthy and aware, yet intellectually blank. Behind her, Achmed Sabib beamed enthusiastically, his face dominated by a leering grin. He gave her a slight push, and she obediently glided into the room.

Nebbins swallowed the remainder of his sherry and hit a tiny button on his desk. Two curtains moved across the picture window and collided in the center.

"You've done a remarkable job." Sabib closed the door and approached Mordente. "She's everything you promised she would be."

Nebbins bowed modestly. "I'm simply the best there is, Achmed."

Sabib snapped his fingers. Mordente's pliant body molded against his. She pinned his head in her hands and kissed him, probing his mouth with her tongue.

Nebbins laughed. "I see you've taken the liberty of teaching her a few commands."

Sabib freed himself from her hungry kisses. "I will take many more liberties with her tonight, and, as a token of my appreciation, you may enjoy her as well."

Nebbins smiled and settled into his leather armchair. Mordente's hands fervently groped Sabib's fleshy back.

"May I watch?" Nebbins asked.

"Of course." Sabib jammed his fingers between Mordente's buttocks and squeezed them in his hands. "You may want to raise your selling price once you see what she can do.

"Strip," Sabib ordered her, pushing her away from him.

Mordente peeled off her T-shirt, her unrestrained breasts bouncing free, flung the shirt aside, and quickly stepped out of her sweatpants. She stood before Sabib, naked and vulnerable.

"On your knees," Sabib pointed to the floor.

Mordente dropped to her knees, looking up at him with wet, puppy-dog eyes. Nebbins nodded approvingly. Sabib knew how to handle his women.

"Beg for it," Sabib yelled and winked at Nebbins.

"Fuck me, Master," she moaned, "please, please, take me."

"Master?" Nebbins grinned, arching an eyebrow. Sabib shrugged. "It has a nice ring to it."

Mordente fingered herself with one hand and fondled her breasts with the other. "I will do anything, just fuck me," she whimpered. "I can't live without you inside me. Fuck me now, Master, fuck me." Her eyes closed and her head lolled lazily on her shoulder. "I want you, oh God, how I want you."

Sabib folded his arms across his chest, winked conspiratorially at Nebbins, and gazed down at her reproachfully. "You must earn it."

"Anything, just fuck me," she cried.

He unbuckled his pants and unzipped his fly. "Blow me off."

A tremendous explosion rocked the compound, bathing the room in a flash of light. Nebbins scrambled out of his chair as another, unseen explosion erupted somewhere in the night. The house shook and the floor seemed to sway beneath the stunned, motionless Arab. Mordente, oblivious to the explosions, entwined herself around Sabib's legs and nuzzled his crotch.

Nebbins yanked out the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a Luger. Sabib was about to move when Mordente took him in her mouth. He braced his hands on her shoulders and smiled.

Another thunderous explosion quaked through the house, knocking paintings off the walls and toppling furniture. Outside, Nebbins could hear screams, the roar of an engine, and the clatter of gunfire.

Nebbins jerked his head towards Sabib, was about to suggest they get the hell out, but thought better of it. Sabib wasn't going anywhere. A light blazed through the curtains, illuminating Sabib and Mordente in an unearthly glow. Nebbins squinted through the curtains, trying to figure out what the light was coming from.

He back-stepped away from the window and aimed his Luger at it. The light was growing brighter. Closer. Nebbins heard the furious mechanical roar of it approaching. He fired into the curtains as if some giant monster hid behind them. The curtains billowed as the bullets tore through them.

He kept firing. A black shape hurled from hell tore through the window in a deafening explosion of glass, plaster, and ripped fabric. It splintered through Nebbins' desk and stopped just inches away from him. The settling debris filled the room with a smoky haze.

Sabib pushed Mordente away and confronted the fin-tailed 1959 Cadillac with an expression of astonished rage. Nebbins pumped bullet after bullet into the windshield, and the faceless driver behind it, until his gun jammed empty. The bullets didn't leave a scratch.

Brett Macklin, his .357 Magnum at his side, slowly emerged from the car and crippled Nebbins with a look of blistering hate. Then he saw Sabib, the Arab's penis jutting out obscenely between the Arab's legs. Mordente cowered at Sabib's feet.

"You will die for this," Sabib yelled, jabbing his finger towards Macklin. "I will suck the marrow from your bones."

"Suck on this." Macklin raised his .357 and fired.

The bullet blasted through Sabib's teeth and exploded out the back of his head. Sabib tottered, a glimmer of life still in his blood-splashed eyes. Nebbins scrambled fearfully away. Macklin fired again, bursting Sabib's belly open. The Arab crumpled to the floor and rolled onto his back, his erection sticking out of him like a harpoon.

Macklin whirled around to face Nebbins, but the TALC leader was gone. He lowered his gun and ran over to Mordente, who sat glassy eyed and empty.

"Jessie, you're safe now," Macklin said, jamming his gun in his pants and lifting her up. "I'm going to get you out of here."

He carried her to the car and positioned her in the front seat. Her face was blank. Macklin waved his hand in front of her eyes. Nothing.

"Jessie, what have they done to you?" he whispered sadly. The compound floodlights flashed on, shifting his attention away from Mordente. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw dozens of armed TALC guards running towards them through the rubble that littered the compound.

He strapped her in with a seat belt and closed the door.

"We're going home," Macklin said, jerking the car into reverse and pressing the gas pedal. The Cadillac shot out of the room, smashing into two of the TALC guards.

Macklin felt the car lurch as it rolled over the bodies. He flipped the car into forward gear, heard the wet grinding sound as the wheels ground into the flesh, and then sped towards the perimeter wall.

The compound was awash in light and pandemonium. The grounds were swarming with frantic guards. The kids Nebbins had turned into walking zombies marched aimlessly amidst it all.

Macklin weaved through the rubble, swerving to avoid hitting the mindless wanderers, and headed for one of openings he had blasted in the stone wall with dynamite. Bullets bombarded the car like hailstones.

He drove through the rupture, the car bouncing violently over the chunks of rubble from the wall. Once clear of the wall, the Cadillac roared across the dark desert landscape, the bright headlights slicing a path in the mess.

Macklin saw a set of headlights dancing in the rearview mirror. A jeep was pursuing them. He grinned and slowed, letting the jeep gain ground. As the jeep closed, Macklin edged the Cadillac to the right, towards the base of a slate mountain.

Fraser Nebbins stood in the jeep, washing Macklin's car with machine-gun fire.

"Asshole," Macklin hissed, flicking a tiny dashboard switch. Two powerful halogen lamps burst from concealment from beneath the Cadillac's rear grill in a flash of blinding white light.

The driver lost control. The jeep veered wildly to the right and smashed into the mountainside. A sharp thunderclap of flame blew the jeep apart and spit a fireball of twisted metal and jagged slate into the sky. The Cadillac raced away into the night.

Macklin rested his hand on Mordente's knee.

"It's over, Jessie." He searched her eyes for some kind of life, for anything. "I made them pay."

Midnight

Brett Macklin steered north along the Pacific Coast Highway while unseen, decaying forces exerted themselves all around him. To his right, the sun-baked, wind-whipped Santa Monica cliffside crumbled onto the asphalt. To his left, the ocean chewed away the beach. Above him, a wino pressed himself against the cyclone cage that enclosed one of the concrete pedestrian overpasses.

And somewhere, in the darkness, a killer lurked.

Jessica Mordente was asleep wrapped up in a blanket, her head slumped forward. Her chin bounced against her collarbone from the motion of the car. She reminded him of Cory and the way his daughter fell asleep in the car after a late movie. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Macklin veered the car to the right, off the highway and up Chautauqua Boulevard, which wound up into the Palisades. The homes were set back from the upward-sloping boulevard and nestled among trees that rose and formed a lush, green canopy of intertwining branches above the roadway. Just before Chautauqua melded into the meandering course of Sunset Boulevard, Macklin turned left onto a driveway.

He listened to the sound of twigs and pebbles snapping under his tires as the car slowly approached Raven Vanowen's one-story home. She was still awake. Macklin saw a trail of smoke spiraling out of the brick chimney and light spilling out behind the shuttered living room windows. A sporty red Ferrari was parked in front of the house and gleamed under the glow cast by the porch light.

Macklin parked beside the Ferrari, got out, and walked around to the passenger side of his car. He opened the door and lifted Mordente out.

His ribs cried out in a scream of agony that echoed throughout his weary body. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he nudged the car door shut with his hip and carried Mordente to Vanowen's front door.

Vanowen must have heard Macklin drive up. She opened the door just before he reached it. Her blue eyes were covered by large round glasses and she had curly brown hair that spilled onto her shoulders. She looked snug and warm in her oversize wool sweater.

"Set her on the couch," Vanowen instructed, stepping aside and pointing to the two couches behind her. Macklin walked past her and gently laid Mordente down on the couch closest to the brick hearth, where dying flames crackled in the embers.

Vanowen brushed Macklin aside and leaned over Mordente. Macklin moved back and watched. Vanowen opened Mordente's eye lids and examined her pupils, then yanked off the blanket and scanned her naked body, looking for needle marks.

He turned away, trying to escape the reality of Mordente's inert body and lifeless eyes.
She's
as good as dead,
he thought.
I was too late.

The smell of dry wood permeated the house. The smoke that had been spilling out of the hearth for years had been soaked up by the walls or, more accurately, the books.

The house was a rustic library. Every inch of wall space was covered with books. The book-lined shelves reached up to the ceiling and overflowed with volumes. What the shelves couldn't hold was stacked up in discrete stacks in various corners and crannies of the room.

"You did the right thing by bringing her directly to me," Vanowen said. "I don't think it's too late to help her."

Macklin turned around and faced her. "You mean you can bring her back, break this damn spell or whatever it is?"

Vanowen smiled reassuringly and, placing her hand on Macklin's back, led him to the door. "It's not quite as easy as that. I'm afraid it will take a lot longer to cure her than it did to hurt her. She will never be completely the same."

Macklin opened the door. "When can I see her again?"

"Soon," Vanowen said. "I'll begin treating her tonight." He nodded and walked out. She closed the door behind him.

Vanowen sighed and put a fresh log in the fire. She heard Macklin's car drive away. The flames wrapped themselves around the wood. The dry bark snapped, spitting sparks against the black-charred brick.

She warmed herself by the fire for a few minutes and, when she turned, Mordente was sitting up on the couch.

Mordente's eyes were hypnotically locked on the dancing flames. Vanowen smiled.

"Hello, Jessica," Vanowen ventured softly. Mordente stared into the fireplace.

Vanowen sat down beside Mordente and put her arm around her shoulder. "Say hello, Jessica."

"Hello," Mordente whispered.

"My name is Raven." She kissed Mordente gently on the cheek. "I am your new master."

# # # # # #

Sunday, June 16, 11:10 a.m.

Cory pressed the buzzer again and let her finger stay on it this time. She really leaned into it, putting her weight behind her index finger as if that would make the buzzer ring even louder.

If Mom was home, the buzzer should wake her. The buzzer could wake the dead.