Who in Hell Is Wanda Fuca? (31 page)

When I heard the scraping of cans, I duckwalked up the length of the hedge
to the corner nearest the lab, burrowing into the branches. I squinted up
toward George and waved my arm. He pushed his way through the hedge to the
front sidewalk and was instantly out of sight.

Save the Earth tiptoed within three feet of my position as they came up the
bank to the back of the laboratory. I was well below their level, with an
unobstructed view through the twisted trunks.

Three of the guys were carrying a gas can in each hand. One guy hefted a
three-foot pry bar. His tall, geometric hair gave him a profile like a felt-tip
marker. Must be the Bass kid. Caroline was empty-handed and pissed off. I knew
the look well.

Bass wiggled the bar into a crack in the door and heaved. Nothing. He
stepped back, then reinserted the bar and leaned his scrawny back against it.
Still nothing. For the first time someone spoke. Of course, it was Caroline.

"Let Bob keep watch, I want to come in," she whispered. A smile
crossed my lips. Some things don't change.

"Just do it the way we practiced it," Bass grunted, putting his
full weight behind his efforts. "Give it five minutes on your watch and
then meet us in the basement."

"I don't see why - " Caroline started.

With a sharp sound of snapping metal, the door popped open, swinging slowly,
its pneumatic guide hissing softly.

A full minute of silence followed as they held their breaths and waited for
the alarm that never came. Satisfied that they were undetected, Bass motioned
the other three guys inside. They entered, single file. He turned to Caroline.
"Stay here. Do your job," he whispered urgently.

She folded her arms over her chest and turned her back on him, staring out
at the canal. I heard him heave a sigh as he followed the others inside,
pulling the door shut behind him. Everything was blue and quiet.

I signaled the crew. In unison, they rose from the grass. Earlene began
picking at the bits of grass and litter that clung to her coat. As they were
about to begin, I heard the door to the lab hiss open again.

Caroline was following the guys in. five minutes, my ass. She hadn't even
given it a full minute. So much for the plan. Time to call the cops.

Earlene saved the day, emitting a quavering wail that shattered the freezing
air like a plate-glass window. "Nooooo. Noooo, please," she wailed.

Caroline's head popped back out the door. she seemed to be sniffing the air
like a retriever, wary but sorely tempted.

"Oh, God pleeese, no - " another scream split the air, followed by
a series of horrific grunts and groans.

I looked over my shoulder. Norman and Waldo held Earlene down on the frosty
picnic table, the borrowed burgundy dress riding high around her hips, Waldo at
the head, working on a full nelson, Norman down by her feet trying vainly to
control Earlene's wildly pumping legs.

"Oh. Oh. Oh," she hollered.

Three feet to my left, the hedge parted. I looked down; I could read the
label on Caroline's black Reeboks. Her indecision was palpable. I slid deeper
into the corner of the hedge. The feet disappeared. I waited, barely breathing.
I heard her feet snicking on the asphalt.

The lab door hissed open again. We'd lost her. Son of a bitch. I couldn't
believe it. Dejectedly, I got to my knees.

Suddenly, six feet to my right, Caroline Nobel, doing her best Wonder Woman
impression, burst through the hedge, landed with both feet on the frosted grass
of the hillside, fell directly on her ass, and slid all the way to the bottom.
If she hadn't fallen, she'd have seen me for sure. I was behind her now. She
came up running. I followed.

I could see now why Caroline had hesitated. The charade was not going as
planned. I'd chosen Waldo and Norman because, to the naked eye, they appeared
the most menacing. The afternoon rain had left Norman's hair sticking up like
Don King's, adding an extra six inches to his already gargantuan stature.
Waldo, nearly as wide as he was tall, always looked like a particularly
malevolent troll, so he was perfect. Together, I'd figured they'd make the
perfect pair of rapist-muggers. The problem was that Earlene was in the process
of kicking bother their asses.

Having for some unknown reason regained her feet, she now delivered a
roundhouse uppercut to Waldo's groin. Waldo staggered about clutching his
privates and groaning pitifully. Norman looked terrified.

"Stop that this instant, you animals," Caroline yelled, as she ran
across the clearing toward the fray. I followed at a dead run.

Waldo continued his moaning; Norman backpedaled steadily.

    "You fucking pervert. If you ever -
" Earlene was screaming now.

Caroline waded in. "What were those pigs doing?" she demanded.

That was as far as she got. Earlene, now in a full rage, brought one up from
her knees and planted it flush in Waldo's chin. He went down in a heap. Norman,
hemmed in by the hedge, held up both hands in surrender.

I tackled Caroline from behind, rolling her to the ground, clamping my hand
over her mouth. As I rolled onto my back, Caroline now struggling frantically on
top of me, Earlene hauled off and kicked the prone Waldo, who was trying
desperately to scramble out of harm's way.

"The little son of a bitch grabbed my boobs," she snarled,
scooting after him, aiming another vicious kick at his head. "I'll kill
him." Waldo, perfectly built for the task, rolled just out of reach.

"Stop it, goddammit," I yelled. Everyone stood still.

Caroline was tattooing my shins with her heels. I wrapped my legs around
hers and flopped over, using my weight to pin her to the ground. I heard her
breath escape as my full weight came down on her.

"Norman," I grunted. "Get over here and take the girl."

He complied, affording Earlene a wide berth. I rolled us back over. Caroline
managed only one brief monosyllabic screech before Norman engulfed her in his
massive hands and arms. He held her under one arm like a load of books, using
his free hand to keep her mouth covered.

I pulled the roll of duct tape out of my jacket pocket and taped Caroline's
hands and feet, I gave a couple of wraps around her mouth. She frothed and
mumbled through the tape.

"Take her out to George," I said when I'd finished.

He lumbered off toward the street, seeming to take no notice of the extra
weight.

"Earlene," I said, rising. "Help Waldo over to the
street."

"I'll help his ass to hell," she said. "That little
pervert."

"Then help Norman. I'll take are of Waldo."

Waldo looked like he thought this was a swell idea.

George was waiting with the camper.

    "Hurry, Leo," he said.
"You guys were slow as shit back there. Cops must be real close by
now."

"I don't hear no sirens," muttered Earlene, trying to work her way
around me to get at Waldo.

"They'll come in quietly," I said.

Norman deposited Caroline on the floor of the camper and closed the door.
through the window, Kennedy's eyes, for once, looked bigger than her glasses.

George could handle the crew. At least, for Waldo's sake, I hoped so.

I hopped into the driver's seat, slipped the truck into gear, and floored
it, bouncing out into the street, heading east toward the Montlake bridge.

"What about your friends?" Kennedy inquired.

"They're going to stick around and be witnesses," I said.

"Why would they - "

She stopped, openmouthed, as three police cruisers raced full-bore over the
bridge toward us. I watched in the mirror as they slid left through the
intersection, screaming down Pacific toward the lab.

I could hear Caroline's muffled sobs from the rear of the camper. She was
taking out her frustrations by kicking madly at anything she could reach. I
knew the feeling.

"George and the others are going to stick around and claim they saw the
breaking and entering. Makes the case stronger. Otherwise, some smart lawyer
will have those jerks back out on the street day after tomorrow."

Kennedy sorted this information in silence as we wound up the hill toward
Broadway. Caroline kicked harder.

I wheeled all the way to the top of the hill, chicaned through the
neighborhood streets, and pulled to a stop on Tenth Avenue, two blocks down
from Tim Flood's house, right where this disaster had all begun last week.

I shut the engine off and turned to Kennedy.

"You ready?" She grimaced in reply.

"Stay outside until I get her unwrapped."

"Was all that tape really necessary?" she asked.

"You're about to find out."

I walked back to the camper, checking the street on the way around. Few
lights showed in the windows. It was an old neighborhood. They turned in early.
I unlocked the camper door. Caroline was lying on her side, with her knees
drawn tightly up to her chest. She tried to mule-kick me, as I stepped up onto
the camper. I caught her feet under my arm and kept walking forward until her
legs pointed up toward the ceiling, her shoulders pinned to the floor. She
stopped struggling.

"Okay, Caroline. Here's the drill. I'm going to take the tape off you
here in a minute." I used my free hand to point back out through the door.
"We're about two blocks from your grandfather's house."

Her eyes widened. More wild struggling and gurgling.

"It's a quiet neighborhood. It's late. You start waking people up and
I'm going to march you down the street and turn you over to Frankie and the
twins. That'll be the end of it. You got that?"

The struggling momentarily stopped.

"You got that?" I repeated. She nodded, banging her head on the
floor I the process.

I unwound the tape from her ankles. She stayed put. Probably trying to lull
me into a false sense of confidence. I yarded her over and unwound the tape
from her wrists. She was up in a flash, tearing the tape down from her mouth,
wearing it like a dull silver necklace.

"You work for my grandfather? I knew it. I knew it. You son of a bitch,
Leo. You son of a bitch," she repeated over and over as she struggled
vainly to find the overlapped end of the tape.

"Right now, I work for you." She wasn't buying.

Giving up on the tape, she came at me with both hands and feet. I ducked my
head and body-blocked her into the front of the overhead sleeper, keeping my
head down, allowing her to vent her spleen on my back.

I stepped back suddenly, putting the length of the camper between us.

"That's enough," I said.

She was breathing heavily, her hands involuntarily curling and uncurling as
she looked for an escape route. I felt the camper lurch as Saasha Kennedy
stepped up inside and sat down at the small table. I reached back and closed
the door behind her.

    "Who's this bitch?" Caroline
sniffled.

"This is a friend of mine," I said. "Her name is Saasha
Kennedy. She's here to see if maybe she can't help you out of this mess you're
in."

"I don't need your fucking help. I wouldn't be in this fucking mess if
it wasn't for you, you asshole."

"Caroline - " Kennedy began.

"Fuck you," she screamed. What followed was several minutes of
unintelligible cursing, mostly nouns and adjectives, very few verbs. Among
other things, the girl needed work on the artful use of profanity.

Eventually she ran out of gas and turned her back on us, resting her arms up
on the sleeper, resting her head between them. I laid it out for her.

"Here's where it's at, Caroline. Your friends at Save the Earth are on
their way to jail now. They're going to be doing some serious time. In a few
minutes, that building you guys hang out in is going to be crawling with
police. Whatever you've got down there is history. You've - "

Caroline turned quickly. "All my stuff is - "

"It's gone," I said. "It'll be in a police evidence locker by
morning."

"So what?" she sneered. "I'll replace it. It's only - "

"You don't have any money," I said quickly. "Your access to
funds has been cut off. I arranged it with your grandfather. You're broke. Your
so-called friends are on their way to jail. What now, honey? Huh?"

Kennedy put a restraining hand on my elbow. I shut up.

It must have been the news about the money. I figured she'd probably never
been broke before. Whatever it was, somewhere inside her, a dam slowly cam
apart. At first, she seemed to be having trouble getting her breath. Gulping
air, without ever exhaling. Followed by a long series of what sounded like
hiccups. Then the tears, as she turned away again and began sobbing
hysterically, her body wracked by spasms, she shoulders shaking almost
uncontrollably as she poured and pounded her collected angst into the mattress.
She seemed to cry forever. I became progressively more uncomfortable.

I've never been good around crying women. Most of the greatest, most
expensive mistakes of my life have been made in response to crying women.
Crying always gives me the uncontrollable urge to do something. Something,
anything, no matter how stupid, not just stand around.

I started to move forward, but Kennedy held me back, silently shaking her
head. She pointed toward the door.

"Me?" I mouthed silently. She nodded.

I stepped out, closing the door behind me. The frozen leaves crunched
beneath my feet as I wandered down a couple of blocks. I stood on the frozen
sidewalk in front of Tim Flood's house. Only the hall lights glowed weak and
yellow through the crocheted curtains.

Part of me was tempted to ring the bell and turn Caroline over to whoever
answered. My job was finished. I'd done what I'd been paid to do. I'd earned my
bonus. Who in hell was I to be mucking about in somebody else's life? My own
wasn't in such good shape that I could be considered an expert on life
management. If my old man hadn't been smart enough to tie up all of his money,
I'd probably have gotten myself into even worse trouble than Caroline was in
now.