KNIGHT'S REPORTS: 3 Book Set (39 page)

The clock was ticking. I began explaining what I knew — laid everything out on the line, except the X-rated stuff with Stella, but I held back no relative information.

In three minutes, everyone in the room knew about as much as I did. Then it hit me that one person in the tavern knew more.

"Corky," I asked, "Judge Hammer hired you, what, five months ago?"

She was quiet at first. "About that."

"How did he know — what did he know, and why?"

"He said he was just suspicious. He'd heard "rumblings" and he wanted me to watch you and report what I saw. It was no secret, even to you, that he wanted to get you back in 'the Fist'." She took a breath and narrowed her eyes. "Still, I think he'd heard more than a rumble. I don't know about you, but I believe our Judge Hammer only tells you as much as he thinks you have to know. That way he can use what you don't know to his benefit — manipulate you with it. He probably knew both who was coming and who put the contract out even back then."

I didn't doubt what she was saying. The mere fact she was saying it, made me trust her a bit more. Of course, she could be manipulating me, just like Hammer would.

"Do you know?"

Ol' Corky's look stunned me. She appeared to be nearly sorrowful, like the guard of a condemned but innocent man. "No, son. I don't. But against my better judgment and the rules of our trade, I've gotten to really like you over the past few weeks, and anyone who tries to kill you will have to get me first."

That, I was unprepared to hear. I was speechless. The old woman had a shell as hard as nails; but for a very short time and only when she wanted, she could show a heart that was as soft as a marshmallow.

It was time to get to work.

We split into three teams. Jada got on the Internet with her laptop, trying to find out if Sophie Ryder really was diabetic, and if her mother Stella was nearing financial disaster. See-Saw sat with her.

Ol' Corky and Smokey worked out a security plan for the marina. They must keep the families, workers and customers safe at all costs, but the property was also a concern. I'd told them that I should leave, and they could tow my boat to another marina down the coast. They refused to hear about it — repeating that they felt safer with me than without me.

Beautiful called Judge Hammer's Hawaiian computer-geek assistant to hook Jada up with the technical wherewithal she needed to hack into about any government, corporate or medical records she'd need. Mama Lo could take a computer anyplace she wanted it to go. The California State License Bureau would be the first place to get a name to match the license plate on the dark grey Nissan Altima — Zoya had gotten the number when she was behind it at the stoplight.

After connecting Mama Lo with Jada, Beautiful, Booger, Zoya and I took a table closest to the back wall.

"E Z," Beautiful said, "I've got my Escalade packed full. Master Gunny Tanner fixed me up with a whole lot of pop and glow, frags and mags. I've got our old M-60 and five thousand rounds of 7.62. I've got a case of fragmentation grenades; two M-79 LAW rocket launchers; a couple of claymores; the old M82 Barret .50 cal sniper rifle; three M-16s with M203 under barrel grenade launchers, along with three-thousand 5.62 rounds and two dozen 40mm grenades to go with them. I've got smoke in four colors, and a couple of pop-up flares to top it off. Oh, and...," he said digging into his pocket, "...I got a half dozen of these subcompact .45 caliber Glocks."

"Shi-it!" Booger said and nodded in approval. "Ba-tal-field Smo-key's Ma-ri-na."

"No," I told them, "that's the last thing I want. We aren't going to bring it here. I'll give up and let them put a bullet in my brain first. We've got two groups — the kidnappers we meet with tomorrow morning probably won't act until then.  I need you guys to watch the marina and keep Smokey and her family safe from the other group — Karl the Russian and his goomba squad."

I paused. "There's a good chance they know how close Smokey and I are, so they might try to use her as leverage. I need you two to ensure that doesn't happen."

I gazed determinedly at my comrades and they held resolute in return. "Set up a perimeter, set out trip wires and flares — whatever it takes to warn you of someone coming in. But I'll need you to help with the other group, as well. If things work out tomorrow morning and we get Sophie back, like we should, you two will only be away from the marina about two or three hours. Before you leave, call 911 and tell them you spotted me at the marina. Then Ol' Corky and the cops that will be looking for me ought to be able to handle it until you get back."

Beautiful said, "You get this kidnapping thing finished up, and then we'll be free to go all out after the Russian — go on offense instead of defense. With our resources pooled, we'll wrap the turd up and put a big fancy bow on him in no time."

"Good plan," Booger said. "But what happens if it doesn't all come down that easy."

"It won't so improvise, Marine," I said. "Improvise."

The mailman came in and put a rubber banded roll of letters and magazines on the end of the bar. It was then I realized that Rabbit hadn't come back from the restroom.

"Hey, the police are outside," the postman said. "Somebody threw a couple of dead guys away in your dumpster."

"What?" Smokey said. "Dead? Dead bodies in my dumpster?"

The postman looked over his glasses as he sorted through his mailbag. He placed the letters that had been in the "out box" on the wall, inside his pouch and replaced the flap.

"Yeah," he said, "my cousin is one of the patrolmen. Said they got an anonymous tip they'd find Jimmy Livorno and Cash Pirelli in your dumpster full of bullet holes. They're a couple of local racketeers — drug pushers. My cousin Al said they probably had a run in with a couple of the grade-schoolers they sell drugs to and ended up getting capped." He laughed. Then he made his fingers like a gun and said, "Get it? Capped, like with a cap gun? Grade schoolers? Get it?"

As Zoya and I slipped out the side door, I heard Beautiful say, "They'll be in here soon. We'd better get E Z outa...where'd he go?"

I'd patted Jazzy Brass and left her behind knowing the girls and Rabbit would watch over her as they always do in my absence. Before more police arrived, Zoya and I were able to sneak to the Porsche at the other end of the parking lot. We surprised the two cops already standing by the dumpster, and were gone before they could stop us.

But where the hell is Rabbit?

Chapter
14

Road Paved with Good Intentions

Jazzy was staying
with Smokey, little Dolly and Rabbit.  Ol' Corky got their spare bedroom. I couldn't stay on my boat; the cops were tearing the city apart trying to find me, and they were sure to be watching the marina.

When I checked in with Beautiful using Zoya's phone, I asked about Rabbit. They hadn't seen him since he went to the restroom. I made Beautiful promise to call me when they found him.

He said Smokey seemed okay, but scared as hell about her son being missing.

I asked if Jada had come up with anything yet.

Beautiful told me that she'd been very busy; the Nissan sedan was registered in Johnnie Livorno's name, that Stella had filed for bankruptcy two weeks ago and that medical records indicated that Sophie Hutchins Ryder was diabetic — that, I hated to hear.

I told Beautiful to get ready for war and hung up.

I shook my head considering the mess I was in and wondering how I could get to the truth with both Jason and Stella lying to me.

Remembering Smokey watching me leave with Zoya gave me a twinge of guilt. She knew I'd be hiding out at Zoya's hotel room — but that didn't mean anything was going to happen. Still, there would be literal Hell to pay if I were to ever try to reconcile with that woman. I loved her — but the blaze Stella rekindled in me this morning still burned hot — my primitive man coming out. But the fire wasn't for Stella, that little matchstick was quenched pretty damn quickly.

I am a man — no denying it, no reason to. I firmly believe the difference between man and animal is mostly in the civilized restraint of underlying, basic and primitive desires. A male dog will sniff out and have sex with as many bitches he can. It's the dog's way of perpetuating his species, even though he isn't even a bit conscious of it. Dogs don't think about making puppies and keeping
dogkind
going another generation when they're getting a nut on top of some hot neighborhood bitch they've just mounted. I'm not ashamed to say, neither am I.

I just didn't think I could carry on a platonic relationship anymore — and maybe that's the dog coming out in me — I mean, damn, I'm not even forty yet.

Smokey herself had told me after a couple months of
dating
that she had no expectations, and I was free to do what I wished — that if I wanted to see someone else, she'd understand.  I now realized that was one of those tests women sometimes give men to see if they'll actually do something they know the woman doesn't want them to do. It certainly wasn't the open-door invitation she indicated it was.

I guess what I'm saying is that platonic is one thing — a little too much for this not-so-old dog to maintain. But, with the right woman, even a mongrel like me might not mind trying a monogamous relationship. Case in point; my deceased wife was the only woman I was with from the time I first set eyes on her to the day she died; five wonderful years. Thinking about all this was putting me in a real bad mood.

I'd turned off my phone and taken out the battery to ensure Harper or any of her cohorts couldn't track my cell. Any calls to me would have to come through Zoya.

We took our time, Zoya negotiating rush-hour traffic to Jason's business manager's office in Beverly Hills.

*  *  *

When we arrived at Scott Pula's office a block off Rodeo Drive, the door was unlocked so we went in.

We saw Jason in Pula's office, but they were talking with their backs to us. Scott's hand was around Jason's waist and his face was close, obviously trying to console my friend.

Scott turned. "Oh, I'm sorry. We didn't hear you come in."

He smiled and showed us a couple of chairs next to his large ornate desk while Jason went to the small bar sink and splashed water on his face. He dried his hands and placed a very nice watch on his left wrist.

I commented on it as he walked to his seat next to mine.

"Oh, this?" he said. "Bruno gave it to me last week when I was getting some things back at the house. It's a Hublot Toubillon Solo Bang — over a hundred thousand dollars' worth of tick-tock. I have no idea where he got it, or how he came up with the money. He just said, 'Here boss, something to remember me by.' Then, he told me, 'Don't worry about it — my ship finally came in.'"

I told him, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't a watch he was trying to give me when I stopped by."

"Knowing you, you gave whatever it was back to him."

I nodded.

Jason told us that he and Scott were able to gather the money — the full five million. It was now in Scott's safe. He gave me their plan: the money would stay in the safe until morning when Scott was to bring it to our rendezvous point at the grocery store parking lot in Laguna Beach. For now, Scott would stay at the office until morning to watch over it. He had a sofa sleeper bed he'd use in an attached sitting room.

"No," I told them.

Jason and Scott appeared dumbfounded. Zoya didn't flinch.

"Stupidest idea I've ever heard," I said.

Their eyebrows rose.

Scott Pula seemed like an old-fashioned sort of guy, about my age and height, but darker complexioned, a little pudgier around the middle and bald. He was very pleasant — old school polite. I liked that. That meant something to me in this day and age.

"Look, guys," I told them. "I'm not trying to hurt anybody's sensibilities here, but shit..." I looked at Scott. "...you're going to grab up five million in, what, a briefcase, and walk out to your car at the curb at five o'clock in the morning in Beverly Hills and not expect to get shot in the head?"

Jason frowned. "Now, come on, E Z. Scott's not Special Forces, but he's a fit man. Nobody knows he's going to have the money with him anyway. Nobody will know to rob him."

"Bullshit," I said. "How many contacts did you make today to put together all that cash? If the wrong guy asks the right questions of the right person, the proverbial cat — and the money — are out of the bag. And you, Scott, have a hole in your head.

"You said no one knows? What about the damn kidnappers? They know. They're the ones who're likely to nose around — to ensure you're working on getting the money, see if there's more to be had. They knock off Scott and take the money — and guess what? You lose a business manager and five million dollars, and you still don't get Sophie back. Then, they'll tap you for another five mil, maybe ten, next time."

Scott was noticeably rattled about the kidnapping, possibly as much so as Jason. "So what do we do?"

"Do you trust me with it?" I looked at Jason.

"Of course I do."

"Do you trust Zoya?"

"She's been vetted by the most scrutinizing, untrusting son-of-a-bitch on Earth — I guess I do."

I nodded. "Judge Hammer is a pretty good judge of character. We'll take charge of the money and guard it with our lives."

Jason said, "Maybe he's right. You need sleep, too, Scott. This way, you can come home and get some good rest. I doubt I'll be able to sleep anyway, and if you're there, we can keep each other company." Jason looked at me to explain. "I'm staying at Scott's place until I get moved."

I nodded.

But Jason's eyes narrowed, as if he wanted to re-evaluate this important decision. "E Z, I trust you with my life, always have. But, if I were looking from the outside in, I might suspect you're in on this thing."

Now it was Zoya and I exchanging puzzled glances.

He continued, "I mean, the kidnappers want only you to deliver the money, right? You could've set this entire thing up."

I stared at him, as emotionlessly as I could. I felt as if a bayonet was about to be shoved between the third and fourth ribs in my back, through my lung and into my heart. I wanted to call him a son-of-a-bitch and bust him in the face. No doubt, my friend had issues. The ones I was aware of alone were enough to drive a man insane. Something else very heavy weighed on him, and I took all that into consideration.

"I could have..." I said, narrowing my eyes back at him. "...my dearest friend. You could have, too."

"Oh, get real," he said. Now
he
was offended. "What would I have to gain from that?"

"Stella has custody. You're paying child support, but you weaseled out of any other kind of maintenance or alimony. You want to see Stella suffer. If you get full custody of Sophie, that'd probably send Stella off the nearest cliff — like I almost went." I waited for that to soak in.

"If this all comes down to me getting killed while in possession of the money, and you go to the police and press, public sentiment will be on your side. You'll be all over the news and tabloids. Admit it, Jason, you're just as big of a publicity hound as Stella. You and she have competed in everything you two did since you first met. Poor Sophie's been in the middle since she was born. Even if you don't win an Oscar tomorrow night, you'll score high with the public and up goes what you can demand per movie. If you
do
win, watch out Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, George Clooney and Tom Hanks — you'll be commanding a higher price than ever before."

Jason worked his jaw muscles. Then he smiled, looked at the floor and shook his head. "You got me." He lifted his face and grinned at me. "E Z, I'm sorry. I deserved everything you said. But you're wrong."

"About what part?"

"It's Sophie. It's always been about Sophie for me. I don't give a shit about Oscar, five million dollars or a billion. I don't care if I ever see another camera again, or my likeness is ever on celluloid — electronically digitized — again. I only want Sophie back safe. You believe me, don't you?"

"Give me some time to mull that one over."

He shook his head again. "You were right about one thing — it wouldn't hurt me a bit to see Stella dragged through twenty miles of cow shit face first after this."

With the two biggest bulls in the room done locking horns for now, our little planning session could get down to business.

When Scott Pula began to open up about his daughter's relationship with Sophie, I kept quiet about Stella having already told me. I wanted to see how much of the two stories jived. He said he had a daughter Sophie's age, and they were the best of friends up until two years ago, being tutored by the same person — home schooled together there at the Ryder mansion. That all jived.

"Hmm," I said. "Two years ago all that ended?"

Scott said, "Yes. I don't know what happened. Stella only told me we'd have to make different arrangements."

Jason interjected, "Stella can be a bit funny, sometimes. It's like she gets a wild hare — some kind of strange thought that she won't let you in on. I think she's bi-polar, but she wouldn't admit to it and her therapist wouldn't tell me anything."

"That's about when Stella said Sophie was diagnosed with diabetes."

"Diabetes?" Scott said. "Really?"

Jason said, "Come on, Scott. I would have known. And if I'd known, I would have told you."

I wasn't going to bring up the fact that Jada and Mama Lo had hacked into Sophie's medical records and found she'd been diagnosed with juvenile diabetes, just as Stella had said.

I'd had enough. It had been a long day. I stood up to leave and asked, "When do we meet and where?"

Pula went to the safe and got a thick briefcase.

Jason was writing something on a note pad. He said, "Laguna Beach, in the parking lot of an out-of-business grocery store at 5:30 a.m." He handed me the note. "Here's the address."

Pula passed me the briefcase. He gave Jason a sideways glance. "And here's the money."

When we got out to the car, Zoya started it up and I got on her phone again.

I called Beautiful to check in on Smokey and the others. There had been no change. Beautiful and Booger were going to stay in the restaurant only a hundred feet from Smokey's house, and they'd alternate a three-hour watch.

When Beautiful told me they hadn't seen Rabbit yet, I knew something was up.

"Damn it!" I said. "When you're sure Smokey isn't able to overhear, call Harper and tell her you think the same bastards that dumped the two bodies in the dumpster have abducted Rabbit. Tell her the ones in the dumpster were two of the three who beat up Oz. See-Saw can ID at least one of them if she needs him to. And they also were involved in the explosion that destroyed Ol' Corky's boat. Tell her their leader is a Russian Mafia hit man named Kirill Diakov. He was only cleaning house when he dumped those bodies, maybe trying to send me a message. And that's why he snatched Smokey's son."