Metro Girl

  “I don’t hear anything but thumping.”

  “You have to be quiet.”

  We lay there together in the dark, listening. There was some muffled moaning and then some mumbled talking.

  “I can’t hear what they’re saying,” I said to Hooker.

  “Shhh!”

  The thumping resumed and some more moaning. The moaning got louder.

  “Here it comes,” Hooker whispered.

  “Yes,” came through the wall. “Oh yes. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”

  Thump, thump, thump, thump. BANG, BANG, BANG.

  I was afraid the picture hanging over our head-board was going to get knocked off the wall and crash down on us.

  “OH GOD!”

  And then it was quiet.

  “Well,” Hooker said. “That was fun.”

  “She faked it.”

  “It didn’t sound fake to me.”

  “Give me a break. No woman sounds like that unless she’s faking it.”

  “That’s a disturbing piece of information.”

  Hooker was feeling better in the morning. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he had a lump on his head, but his headache was gone, and he wasn’t seeing double.

  We ordered room service breakfast, and halfway through breakfast my phone rang.

  “He’s gone!” Judey wailed.

  “Who?”

  “Bill! Wild Bill is gone. I took a shower and when I came out he was gone. I don’t understand it. We were having such a good time. He was feeling so much better this morning. He came out and sat at the table for breakfast. I made him pancakes. How could he leave after I made him pancakes?”

  “Did he say anything about leaving? Did you hear anything? Did it look like someone broke in and took him?”

  “No, no, and no. The little shit just left. He got dressed in my clothes. And he left.”

  “Did he leave a note?”

  “A note,” Judey said. “I was so upset, I didn’t look for a note.”

  I sat with my lips pressed tight together, listening while Judey searched.

  “I found it!” Judey said. “It was on the kitchen counter. It says he went to get Maria back. That’s all. I’m so sorry. This is terrible. I was supposed to be watching him.”

  “It’s not your fault. This is why we call him Wild Bill. Call me if you hear from him.”

  Hooker pushed back from his breakfast. “That didn’t sound good.”

  “Bill went to get Maria.”

  “Unless he knows something we don’t know, he’ll be sniffing around Salzar. How do you think he’ll do that? From what I’ve seen, Salzar’s never alone. He’s always got a couple big guys with him.”

  “Bill’s not known for his cunning. Bill just goes after whatever it is he wants. I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked up to Salzar and put a gun to his head.”

  TWELVE

  It was a little after ten when I drove past Salzar’s office building on Calle Ocho. It was a perfectly nice-looking building, in a nice neighborhood. And this would have been a perfectly nice day, if only things were different. I must have been doing a lot of unconscious sighing because Hooker reached over and put his hand at the nape of my neck.

  It seemed to me we were always taking one step forward and two steps backward. And with each step, no matter that it was forward or backward, Hooker and I got dragged deeper into the mess, Bill’s future got increasingly precarious, and I didn’t know what to think about Maria. I hoped she still had a future.

  Until a week ago, my life had been so easy. No major illnesses, no big disasters. Nothing to make me uncomfortable. Okay, I had a couple aborted romances that caused me some pain. And sometimes I felt like I was aimlessly drifting, marking time. But I’d never had to fear for my life or for the premature death of someone I loved. Until a week ago, I’d never looked down the barrel of a gun.

  Now I know what it’s like to live with real fear…and I’m not crazy about it. I’d get on a plane and go home, but that wouldn’t make it all go away. I suspect the bad guys would track me down, no matter where I ran. And I couldn’t live with myself if I bailed on Bill. Sometimes his brain isn’t fully engaged, but his heart’s always in the right spot.

  And then there’s this other thing that I’m struggling over. The canister. The truth is, I’m a person who pretty much lives day to day. I haven’t got a lot of large heroic ambitions. I’d like a better job, but up to this point I was always working too hard to pay the rent to take a chance on a move. And even with a better job, I guess my aspirations are small. It’s not like I want to be a movie star or an astronaut or the queen of England. I’d just like to find something that’s a little more fun. Not that it has to be fun all the time…but some of the time would be a good thing. And God knows, I never wanted to save the world. So I’m a little unprepared for the current responsibility of knowing where a canister (that could possibly be a warhead) is hidden. And I’m a lot unprepared for the almost violent resolve I have that it won’t fall into the wrong hands.

  “We need help,” I said to Hooker. “This isn’t like the time Bill stole the keg. This is serious, and it’s not going away. We need to get some sort of law enforcement involved here.”

  “I agree,” Hooker said. “What kind of help should we get?”

  “I don’t know. Who would be in charge of possible bomb disposal?”

  “I’m a little stumped on that one. I can drive, and I can dance, and I can even scramble an egg, but I don’t know a whole lot about possible bombs. I guess we could start with the FBI.”

  I drove around the block three times. Finally a space opened up a half block from Salzar’s building, and I maneuvered the Mini into it.

  “Do you want to get in touch with authorities now?” Hooker asked. “Or do you want to try to head Bill off first?”

  “Bill first. If possible.”

  There was a decent amount of traffic on Calle Ocho at this time of day. Cars would slow when they came up to the Mini, the occupants’ eyes would widen, and then the cars would speed up.

  Hooker slouched in his seat. “You’d think this was the first time anybody ever saw a car riddled with bullet holes.”

  We let a half hour go by. No Bill in sight. I couldn’t call him. He didn’t have his cell phone. I called Judey. Judey hadn’t heard from him.

  “We should go in and ask around,” Hooker said. “See if he went past the front desk.”

  I did an inadvertent grimace.

  “Hey, it could be fun,” Hooker said.

  “You’re not worried?”

  “You want the truth? My boys got the creepy crawlies. When this is done you’re gonna owe me large.”

  We got out of the car and walked the half block to the building entrance. We pushed through the glass doors, crossed the lobby, and went to the front desk.

  “I was supposed to meet my brother here,” I told the guy behind the counter.

  “Bill Barnaby?”

  My stomach went into free fall. “Yes.”

  “He’s with Mr. Salzar. They’re expecting you.”

  Great. I turned to Hooker. “They’re expecting us.”

  Hooker had his hand back at my neck. “No need for both of us to go up. Why don’t you wait here? I know you need to use the ladies’ room.”

  I bobbed my head at the desk guy. “Ladies’ room?”

  “Take the corridor to the side of the elevators. It’s on the right.”

  Hooker and I walked to the elevators together.

  “Get out of here,” Hooker said. “Make it look like you’re going to the ladies’ room and find a way out. I’ll call your cell when Bill and I are out of the building. If you don’t hear from me in the next ten minutes, go to the police.”

  I walked down the corridor to the ladies’ room and looked around. Security camera at the end of the hall. I went into the ladies’ room and took a couple deep breaths. I was the only one in the ladies’ room. It was on the ground floor. There was a window next to the si
nk. Frosted glass. I unlocked the window and opened it. The window backed up to a service driveway. I climbed out the window and dropped to the ground. I looked for security cameras. One at the far end of the building over the rear entrance. I walked in the opposite direction.

  I cut through another service driveway and circled the block. I didn’t want to go to the Mini. Hooker had been in the building for ten minutes now and he hadn’t called. Time to call the police. I was back on Calle Ocho. I was standing in a doorway one building down from Salzar’s building. From where I stood I could see Salzar’s small parking lot and the front entrance.

  A man left the building and went to one of two Lincoln Town Cars parked in the lot. He got into the car and drove out of the lot. I ran to the corner and saw the car make its way down the cross street and turn into the service road. I ran to the service road and stood on the corner and watched. The car stopped at Salzar’s rear entrance. After a moment the door opened and Bill and Hooker were marched out and loaded into the Town Car. There were three other men with them. Two of the men got into the car, and the car drove off.

  There was a slim chance that I could follow the Town Car if I could get a ride fast enough. No time to run back to the Mini. I was afraid to go back to it anyway. I jogged down the cross street, looking in car windows for keys left in the ignition. I found one almost immediately. Honda Civic with the door open and the keys dangling. It was parked in front of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant advertising fast food and takeout. Someone had been in a hurry and was way too trusting.

  I slid behind the wheel, turned the key in the ignition, and took off. I got to the corner, and the Town Car cruised by, going west on Seventh Street. I was several cars back by the time I was able to make the turn, but I had the Town Car in sight. Traffic was slow on Seventh. We inched along. The Town Car turned north on Seventeenth.

  After three blocks, I caught a flash of lights in my rearview mirror. Cop car. Damn. Take another deep breath, I told myself. Don’t panic. Pretend they’re an escort. This could be a good thing, right? Just have them follow and help to get Bill and Hooker out of the Town Car.

  Three more blocks. The cop car was still behind me, lights flashing. I could be wrong, but it looked like a second cop car was behind the first one. I saw the Lincoln sail across First Street. I approached the intersection and a third cop car came from First, angled in front of me, and stopped me from going any farther.

  I got out of the car. Someone yelled for me to put my hands on my head. I did as I was told, and I walked back to the first cop car.

  “I need help,” I said. “I was following the black Lincoln Town Car. It belongs to Luis Salzar, and he’s kidnapped my brother.”

  “That’s pretty original,” the cop said. “Usually we just get PMS stories.”

  “It’s true!”

  “Radio for a female,” he said to his partner. “We’re going to need to search her for drugs.” He snapped a cuff on my wrist. He brought it to my back and snapped the second cuff on my other wrist.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” I said. A tear trickled down my cheek. I’d totally screwed up.

  “Oh man,” the cop said. “I hate this part.” He swiped the tear away with his finger. “Lady, you shouldn’t be doing drugs. You’re real cute in your little pink skirt and hat. You don’t need drugs.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I was obviously a loser, but at least I looked cute. I tried to tell myself that was worth something, but I wasn’t convinced.

  One of the cop cars left. Two stayed. The two that remained had their lights flashing, and I suspected there would be a big rush at the hospital for strobe-induced seizures. Traffic slowly moved around the police circus, gawking at me in cuffs, gawking at the cops who were standing, hands on gun belts, in case I made a run for it.

  After a couple minutes I realized there was one more cop car involved. It was an unmarked car parked behind the two cop cars to my rear. It had blue grille lights flashing. I couldn’t see inside the car. Too far away and too much glare on the windshield. One of the uniforms had walked back and was talking to the driver. The uniform turned his head and looked over at me. He turned back to the driver and shook his head. More discussion. The uniform went to his car and got on the radio. After a five-minute radio conversation the uniform returned to the unmarked cop car. The uniform didn’t look happy.

  “What’s going on?” I asked one of the cops.

  “Looks like a fed pulling rank,” the cop said.

  After a short conversation between the uniform and the government car, the driver’s door to the unmarked car opened and a guy got out and walked over to me. It was Slick.

  I instinctively edged closer to the cops.

  “You’re being released into my custody,” Slick said.

  “No way!” I pressed myself against a uniform. “I don’t want to be released. I demand that I stay arrested.”

  “Not my call,” the uniform said, uncuffing me.

  Slick wrapped his hand around my arm and tugged me toward his car. “Just shut up and come with me,” he said. “The last thing we need is for you to get arrested. Although it wouldn’t bother me much to see you behind bars. You’ve been a real pain in the ass.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Federal agent. One of those three-letter organizations. I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  The only thing more frightening than thinking this buffoon was working for Salzar was knowing he was on my side. “You’re not exactly competent.”

  “You’re not exactly a model citizen.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m a good citizen. And I’m thinking I might report you to somebody. You shot Hooker.”

  “I tranked him. And just for the record, your friend Felicia shot me when I didn’t have a weapon drawn. That’s a little illegal.”

  “I thought you were trying to kill me.”

  “I asked you to step aside so I could talk to you. How does that translate to kill?”

  “When you came up to me at Monty’s you said you’d kill me.”

  “I’m supposed to be undercover. Don’t you ever go to the movies? Don’t you watch television?”

  “You shot real bullets at my car last night.”

  “Okay, I admit it. I got carried away. Hell, you ran over me. What did you expect me to do, yell thank you?”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t back up and finish the job.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Slick was driving a sedan. He opened the back door for me, and Gimpy looked over his shoulder from the shotgun seat.

  “Look who’s joining us,” Slick said to Gimpy. “Devil Woman.”

  “This is a bad idea,” Gimpy said to Slick. “She’s deranged.”

  “She’s all we’ve got.”

  Slick got behind the wheel, shut his grille flashers off, and hit the door locks.

  “I had them take the cuffs off,” he said to me. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t try to climb out a window or strangle me while I’m driving.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Early lunch. My pain pills are wearing off, and I don’t want to take more on an empty stomach.”

  “My brother and Hooker…”

  “Would have been fine if you hadn’t stolen a car. We were staking out Salzar when you bumbled in…like always. All we ever wanted you to do was butt out.”

  “Why didn’t you say that? Wait, I know, because then you’d have to kill me.”

  Slick slid a look at me in the rearview mirror. “Yeah. Doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.”

  “You’d better be nice to me, or I’ll kick your ass again.”

  “Lady, this has been humiliating enough for two lifetimes. And painful. It’d be a real treat if you kicked someone else’s ass for a while.”

  “We need to do something about Bill and Hooker and Maria.”

  “There’s not a lot we can do right now. We lost the Town Car. I got stuck in the police roadblock, so I went to
Plan B and rescued you.”

  Slick pulled into a fast-food drive-thru, and we all put in an order. I got a burger, fries, and a chocolate milk shake. Slick got a burger and a diet soda. Gimpy sulked in the front seat. Slick parked in the fast-food lot, and we ate our food with the motor running and the air-conditioning on.

  “Here’s the deal,” Slick said. “You and your brother have screwed up this whole operation and now you’re going to have to help us salvage it.”

  I sucked some milk shake up the straw and slanted a look at him in the mirror.

  “There are things about Calflex that you don’t need to know….”

  “That’s not a good way to start,” I said.

  Slick washed two pills down with some soda.

  “Where’s the pain?” I asked him.

  “Cracked rib.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said. “Change places with my partner so I can see you without twisting. The looking-in-the-mirror thing is getting old.”

  Gimpy got out and held the door for me. His foot was still bandaged. His knee was still in the brace. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises. And he was bent.

  “Do you have a cracked rib, too?”

  The line of Gimpy’s mouth was thin and tight. “Just get in the car, okay?”

  Slick grinned. “It’s his back. He tore a muscle when he tried to get off the gurney to choke you.”

  I did more milk shake sucking. “Tell me about Calflex.”

  “Salzar has been negotiating a Cuban land deal for Calflex. Prime real estate that will be used for a variety of purposes. The deal is being made with a member of the Cuban politburo who has large aspirations.”

  “Large aspirations?”

  “He wants to be king.”

  “Would he be king through the normal chain of events?”

  “He would not.”

  “A coup?”

  “Possible. He needs money for the coup.”

  “This would be supplied by Calflex in exchange for the land?”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, this is not an individual who would be a good neighbor. In addition to Calflex money, he’s demanded an item that would give him military leverage. Salzar has been shopping for such an item without much success. These things are available, but the purchase requires time and connections. When the agency learned Salzar was making inquiries, we got involved. We’ve spent the past year penetrating Salzar’s organization.”