Hollywood Kids (55 page)

'I'm not drinking anything.'

'Drink it. Or suffer the consequences.'

She'd stared at him with frightened eyes and reluctantly choked down the tea.

He'd watched until she'd slumped into a drugged sleep, then he'd picked her up and carried her down to the cellar, where he'd placed her on a blanket in the corner. Her coat had fallen open on the way, revealing that she was not properly dressed.

He'd stared at her breasts, almost exposed in a black push-up bra. And then he'd touched the insides of her thighs and was tempted. But temptation would only hinder his progress, there would be time later to do anything he desired, so he brought the handcuffs he'd purchased at a sex shop into play, handcuffing her wrists to a solid pipe that ran down one side of the wall. Then he'd bound her ankles together with strong rope.

He'd thought about gagging her, but it wasn't necessary. There was nobody to hear her screams. And the strong sleeping pills would keep her unconscious until morning.

He'd pulled her coat so that it covered her strange outfit, and left her alone in the dank, dark cellar.

Now, as he waited for Jordanna, he couldn't help feeling pleased with himself. All those years in jail he'd thought about what he would do when he got out, and in a short period of time he'd successfully disposed of four women.

The betrayers.

The bitches.

And when the other two were gone, he would be able to return to New York and get rid of everyone else who'd tried to ruin him.

The anticipation of strangling his mother filled him with such a burning intensity he could barely stand it. She was a woman. And everyone knew that women were lying, cheating, unfaithful vile scum.

Allowing his mind to wander, he remembered the time shortly after his father had been sent off to prison. A warm New York night. He was sixteen years old and enamoured with a girl at school. She was seventeen and didn't want anything to do with him.

He'd arrived home from school and gone straight to his room to study. At eight o'clock his mother had appeared at his bedroom door, dressed in a diaphanous pink néglige, reeling slightly, drunk and flushed. 'I need your help, poopsy,' she'd said in the baby-girl voice she sometimes adopted.

'I gotta do my homework, Mom.'

'Come with me now, poopsy, Mommy needs you.'

Reluctantly he'd followed her into her bedroom, an oppressive room filled with lace-trimmed cushions, movie magazines, stuffed toys and shopping bags abrim with clothes she'd purchased, worn once, and always returned.

She'd wandered over to her bed and flopped down in the middle. 'Come over here, poopsy,' she'd coaxed. 'Sit on the side here and talk to Mommy.'

He couldn't stand it when she called him poopsy. He loathed it when she demanded his time.

She'd held open her skinny arms. 'Mommy's having a bad day,' she'd sighed. 'Mommy is not happy.'

'What is it?' he'd asked, drawn towards her in spite of himself.

'I received a letter from your father. He writes mean things to me. Cruel things.'

'Well...' he'd started to say, attempting to comfort her.

Before he could get any further, she'd thrown her arms around his neck and pulled him down next to her, kissing him full on the lips.

He'd smelted booze mixed with cigarette smoke and a cloying sweet scent. Her tongue had flicked into his mouth, exploring, searching... And then her hand had crept between his legs, and to his eternal shame he'd been hard, and when she'd unzipped his pants...

The Man snapped to attention, breaking out in a sweat, refusing to remember.

It wasn't right the things she'd done to him that night. It wasn't proper. And yet he hadn't fled. He'd allowed her to do whatever she'd wanted. And she'd wanted it all.

He spotted car headlights coming up the hill. He'd stationed himself not too far from the entrance to the Sanderson mansion, but not close enough so that anyone in the guard house could spot him.

Jordanna was approaching. Her white Porsche unmistakable in the moonlight.

Another rich bitch! His for the taking.

It had not been easy finding out where she lived, but he'd done it, and now here she was. His excitement began to build for he knew that soon he would have her in his power.

He started his engine. As soon as she was near enough he hit the accelerator, swerving his car out of the shadows, smashing into the side of her Porsche, taking her completely by surprise.

Jordanna Levitt would soon be with Cheryl, exactly where she belonged.

And then he would be King. And eternal power would be his.

Sitting in his study in front of the television Mac watched as Rosa Alvarez made a big deal out of the task force formed to track down the LA Strangler. Listening to her you'd think her network was personally responsible for getting it together.

He waited impatiently for her to name Zane Marion Ricca, but she didn't, and he couldn't understand why. He picked up the phone and called Quincy. 'What's happening?' he asked tersely. 'I thought you said they'd name him today?'

'It'll probably hit the news tomorrow,' Quincy informed him. 'They've put out an APB, but sometimes they ask the press to hold back on naming the suspect.'

'Jesus!' Mac complained. 'What about the girls? Have the cops warned them?'

'I'm sure they have.'

'So they're safe?'

'I spoke to Detective Carlyle this afternoon, he assured me it was taken care of.'

'OK, OK,' Mac said, still feeling uneasy. He wanted Zane to be caught, arrested and thrown back into jail. Only then would he feel secure.

He could barely admit it to himself, but the horrible truth was that Zane was his cousin, they shared a blood-line, and it sickened him.

Feeling edgy, he wondered if he should call Luca. It might be a good idea to get his take on what was happening, for Luca would surely know if Zane had been picked up yet, unless of course he'd handled it in his own way...

Mac had always thought of himself as a true liberal, but now he found himself hoping that Luca
had
handled it. He wanted Luca to have found the prick and buried him six feet under.

Jesus! He truly was Luca Carlotti's son.

It was a frightening thought.

'So like we're followin' Bambi in the limo,' Bosco explained. 'An' suddenly she pulls her car over to the side of the road and this guy stops behind her - it looks to me like he was followin' her, too. So he gets out an' goes over to her car...'

Luca frowned. 'What guy?'

'Dunno. They must've bin together, 'cause then she gets outta her car, leaves it there, an' gets in
his
car. Then they drive off cozy as two fuckin' peas.'

'What was you doin' all this time?'

'We was parked down the street watchin' the action.'

'So then what happens?'

We trail the car with her an' the guy in. He takes off fast, hits Sunset, turns on Laurel Canyon, an' takes a side road up into the hills. We're behind him as close as we can without them suspectin' they're bein' followed.'

'Did you find out where she went?'

'Yeah, some deserted house way up there.'

'Was he her boyfriend?'

Bosco shrugged. 'How would
I
know?'

'Did they look
loving
together?'

'You're askin' the wrong person.'

'OK, OK,' Luca said impatiently. 'You get an address?'

'Not exactly.'

'That's OK, you'll go back tomorrow an' check it out.'

On the plane heading back to LA Michael felt as if he were going home and it was a good feeling. The relief of getting out of Sal's house was overwhelming.

They'd finally let him see Bella and the sad thing was she'd barely recognized him. She wasn't his child any more, they'd done a good job of brainwashing her.

Pandi had brought her in. 'This is your Uncle Mikey,' she'd said. '
Uncle
Mikey.'

'Hello, Uncle Mikey,' Bella had said, clutching a stuffed teddy bear, gazing up at him with big blue eyes. Rita's eyes.

'Do you remember me, sweetheart?' he'd asked, bending down to talk to her.

'Dunno,' she'd said shyly.

'We lived in the same apartment in New York - when you were real little.'

'Dunno,' she'd repeated, swinging her teddy bear in circles.

'I'm going to tell you something,' he'd said, squeezing her hand tightly. 'And I want you to listen carefully. If there's anything you ever need, you can always come to me. Can you remember that?'

'Okey-doke,' she'd said, unconcernedly popping bubble gum. 'Okey-doke, Uncle Mikey.' Then she'd reached up, put her little arms around his neck and kissed him.

It killed him. But what could he do? If he wanted to fight this legally, he wouldn't stand a chance.

He'd spent a few more minutes with Bella, hugged her close and walked out of the house without looking back. Now he had to go forward, make a new life for himself in California.

He'd taken a cab to the airport and phoned Quincy when he'd gotten there. 'What's happening?'

'Jesus Christ!' Quincy had sounded really annoyed. 'You call me and you ask
me
what's happening. What's going on with
you?
Did you find her? Is she safe?'

'You know what, Q - it's a long story, I'll tell you when I get there.'

'Are you bringing her back? Amber will get a bed ready.'

'No, she's not coming back. She's with my family.'

'You took her there?'

'I'll explain everything when I'm home.'

Sitting on the plane, it suddenly occurred to him that he'd blown a date with Kennedy. Marjory had also been expecting him at her house, and knowing Marjory she'd be furious, considering he'd borrowed ten thousand dollars that very morning.

First priority - find a way to pay it back, and fast.

He called Kennedy, using the phone on the plane. He got her machine and left a message.

Next he phoned Marjory. The butler informed him she'd retired for the evening.

After that he fell asleep, dozing fitfully, dreaming about Bella, Rita, his mother and Sal.

He was proud of the fact that he hadn't smashed his brother's face in. It was quite an achievement to know he could control his sometimes violent temper, because in his drinking days he would have beaten him to a pulp.

Those days were over now, he was wiser, more responsible.

Finally he was his own person.

'You stupid maniac!' Jordanna shouted, leaping out of her car, practically jumping up and down with fury. 'Look what you've done! You've smashed up my car! I can't believe it! What's
wrong
with you?'

Angrily she began inspecting the damage.

Zane acted swiftly, getting out of his car he ran over as if he were as concerned as she was.

'What are you - drunk?' she yelled, glaring at him. 'I'm calling the police.'

'I... I'm sorry,' he mumbled, playing dumb.

She bent over to pick up a piece of bent chrome.

Swiftly he moved up behind her.

'This is shit-' she began to say, holding a broken mirror aloft.

He took her by surprise, grabbing her in a choke-hold from behind, placing the chloroform-soaked pad he'd prepared over her nose and mouth.

She reacted violently, kicking back with an unexpected strength.

Fast reaction. Not as easy as the other one. It was all he could do to keep the pad in place. She was fighting like a wild animal, but be was strong, stronger, and her struggles were in vain, because after a few moments she slumped helplessly to the ground, unconscious.

The Man half carried, half dragged her to his car. Then he opened the trunk and unceremoniously bundled her inside, shutting it fast.

He looked around, the street was dark and deserted. Producing a flashlight he inspected the front of his rental car - it was only slightly damaged, while one side of the Porsche was totally wrecked. Good. He'd enjoyed slamming the bitch. Getting behind the wheel of his car he took off fast.

Driving along Sunset to Laurel Canyon, he made sure he kept within the speed limit, looking neither left nor right. At one stop light a police car pulled up alongside him. He kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead, his expression betraying nothing.

By the time he reached the house and opened the trunk, Jordanna was in a semi-conscious state, mumbling unintelligibly. The bitch couldn't even stay unconscious for long.

He lifted her up, slung her over his shoulder, and carried her inside.

With one hand he unlocked the door to the cellar and staggered downstairs.

He shone his flashlight at Cheryl. She lay exactly where he'd left her - shackled to the pipe, still in a heavily drugged sleep.

The cellar was small, approximately eight feet by eight, damp and very dark.

He threw Jordanna down on the ground and handcuffed her to the same pipe as Cheryl. Then he bound her ankles tightly.

When he was satisfied they were both secured, he left them down there and went upstairs.

Jordanna began to groan. 'What's... what's going on?' she mumbled. 'Where's Bobby? Bobby...' Opening her eyes she realized she couldn't see a thing.

For a moment she thought she was in hospital. Somebody had smashed into her Porsche and now she was in the goddamn hospital!

She tried to sit up, suddenly realizing her wrists were shackled to the wall.

Oh, God! In a blinding flash it came to her - she'd been kidnapped!

A feeling of dread enveloped her. This was her worst nightmare coming true. Rich Hollywood kid, father would pay a big ransom. Oh, Jesus!

She could smell chloroform all over her face. Sneezing vigorously she shook her head and tried to make herself alert.