Dangerous Times (30 page)

“Had you fooled,” she smiled weakly. “Think
I’m a good actress?”

“Get you taken care of,” Kirk told her.
“After that, you’ll see things the way they really are.”

“Me and Frank,” she managed. Emily’s green
eyes froze and she expelled a cloud of breath that rolled like fog
into the wintry night.

Kirk tried to shake her back to life. “Come
on!” he demanded, but Emily had fled too far. Kirk released her. He
turned against the car door, folded downward and sat in the street.
Legs arched he rested his arms on his knees and pillowed his
head.

Beverly had arrived, standing now with Hicks
and Ty. “Gawd, oh Gawd,” she shuddered tearfully, hands covering
her face, “both girls, so young.”

Kirk got up somberly and went to her. He
pulled her quivering hands from her face. She saw nothing but her
son and said, “We’ll be all right, won’t we?”

“Count on it,” Kirk said quietly, words
weighted with grief. Then to Hicks, “You don’t know me, but you
chose me instead of the money.”

“I know you,” Hicks said.

Beverly wiped at her tears. “That
good-for-nothing money…is it out of our lives?”

Hicks looked down at his shoes and scrubbed
his forehead. “Suitcase was grabbed from us.”

“My lovin’ cousins,” Ty sneered.

Beverly sighed and said, “I’m glad they got
the one with the money in it.”

“One with the money in it?” Kirk said to
her.

“Two suitcases,” Beverly told him. “The
other one’s filled with books.”

Kirk, Hicks, and Ty exchanged a look. Hicks
saying, “That’s why the sucker was wise-talkin’.”

“Where’s the other one?” Kirk asked his
mother.

“In the vacancy, I guess.”

Kirk took off in a run.

Hicks glanced across the street. “The Colt,
an’ I gotta look for my .38!” he hollered to Kirk.

“No time!” Kirk hollered back.

“Damn!” Hicks said as he ran after him.
Beverly and Ty followed, the pair of them losing distance.

“Which one’s the vacancy?” Hicks huffed from
behind Kirk.

“Just keep up with me.”

“Sure ‘nough tryin’.”

Sirens blared and the two runners avoided
the on-coming police and EMS. Kirk and Hicks veered from the
street, raced up Beverly’s drive and turned onto her walkway. About
to pass her broken door, Kirk nearly ran into Donald falling out
over the threshold.

Hicks dropped to him. Kirk stopped at the
sight of Donald’s blood-soaked sleeve. “He just left,” Donald
grimaced, fearful over his loss of blood.

Kirk continued on, Donald bemoaning to
Hicks: “Cuffed, and the razor came from nowhere up under my arm –
took the cuff key—Beverly’s car keys.”

Beverly and Ty appeared. “Donald!” Beverly
inhaled sharply.

Hicks was already up off his knees, removing
his coat and suit jacket. “Tourniquet,” he said as he ripped his
shirtsleeve off. Then to Ty, “Get inside an’ take care’a your
hands.”

Chapter
100

Kirk stood motionless by the vacancy window,
blinds closed, light seeping through the slats. An engine roared
and broke the silence. Kirk looked toward the driveway end of the
vacancy. Beverly’s Chevy passed the opening between the cottages.
Kirk took off the other way and dashed by the pool.

Hicks saw him while bringing Donald to his
feet. “Call 911,” he said to Beverly. “Get him down on the couch
and keep layin’ gauze,” and he went after Kirk.

“Your coat and jacket,” she said to Hicks,
too late.

Hicks ran through the fieldstone archway. He
saw Kirk hop into his ‘49 Ford and start it up. The passenger door
flew open. Beyond, Hicks saw Frank speeding off Cabrillo onto 10th.
Hicks sucked air with a burst of energy.

He jumped into the Ford. A knee banged
against the dash. “Damn!” he said, rubbing it as he closed the
door.

Kirk raced across Cabrillo. He had to
decelerate four cars behind Frank. Hicks reached down, slid his
seat back and said, “Wish I had my coat.”

Kirk said, “Wish I had my jacket.”

“He know this car?”

“Can’t be sure,” Kirk answered. “Don’t think
so.”

“Sucker’s got his gun an’ we got
nothin’.”

“Got my anger,” Kirk said. “What he sent my
mother through.” His voice dropped. “Lisa, Donald, Emily…all of it
his fault.”

“Sure ‘nough,” Hicks said. He stopped
himself from telling Kirk that his suspicion of Emily had proven
right. Tell him later, he thought; maybe never.

Kirk glanced at Hicks’ left arm, shirtsleeve
gone. “And we’ve got our superhero.”

Hicks gave him a puzzled gaze. Passing
Gaffey Street he said, “Went south on Pacific. An’ he’s takin’ it
easy. He’s not on to us.” He said, “Should’a went north on Gaffey
if he wanted the freeway.”

Kirk made the right onto Pacific. He said,
“Your bare arm reminds me of an old comic book hero. Big-fisted
muscular arm. Just an arm, no body attached to it.”

“Yeah…” Hicks recalled. “But that arm had a
propeller on it, where the shoulder s’posed to be.”

Kirk saw an opening two cars ahead. He
downshifted, crossed the yellow line, sped up in 2nd and wound out
at 50.

“Damn!” Hicks said as they swung into the
opening, avoiding a head-on collision. Then with relief, “Some
second gear you got.”

“She’s all factory original, except for
carb, cam and transmission.” Kirk slowed 3 cars behind Frank.
“Where the hell is he going?”

“Don’t wanna know,” Hicks said. “Let’s just
take him.”

“It’ll mean forcing him over,” Kirk told
him. “Sacrificed a lot to get this car in shape. Get her dented,
I’m in deep trouble.”

“Lose that money an’ I’m in deep trouble,”
Hicks worried.

“What trouble?”

“Good ol’ brother cops’re lookin’ for me,”
the detective said. “Got carried away an’ turned a tough
nineteen-year-old into oatmeal.” Hicks hesitated. “Kid died in the
hospital. Parents suing the city, an’ I’m gonna get charged.”

“Money for legal fees,” Kirk understood.

“No, man,” Hicks said. “For me and Ty to get
outta San Pedro and start fresh.” Then added, “Gettin’ the finder’s
fee from Eddie’ll do it, sure ‘nough.”

“Okay, then,” Kirk said. He downshifted and
wheeled out over the yellow line.

“No,” Hicks stopped him, “don’t do it.” The
Ford swung back into its lane. “Forgot,” he grumbled. “Get pulled
over for racin’ and chasin’, I’m busted.”

Kirk agreed with a nod. “What’s your share
of the finder’s fee?”

“Me and Ty planned to forget the fee an’ rip
off the whole take,” Hicks admitted. “But if we did, sure ‘nough
Eddie Jones would track us down.” He said, “Ty’s gotta know
that.”

“Give him his money back, how much is the
reward?”

“I’d get half the fee,” Hicks told him.
“Million dollars.”

“Whoa…” Kirk exhaled. “How much is in that
suitcase?”

“Give or take, ten million.”

“Ten…generous reward, two million total,”
Kirk said. “And Ty gets the other million,” he stated.

“No,” Hicks said, “goes to you.”

Kirk turned to him, unsure if he heard that
right.

“Light!” Hicks warned him.

Kirk hit the brakes and screeched to a stop
inches from the bumper of the car in front of him. “Whew,” he
slouched.

At the red light behind a short row of cars,
Kirk and Hicks saw Frank a block ahead of them, left turn-signal
blinking in the night.

“A mil each,” Hicks said, “but you gotta
stick with me ‘til the end, no matter what it brings.”

• • •

Frank turned west off Pacific and drove down
22nd. He could see the Main Channel in the distance, Terminal
Island at its far side; the oil refinery’s tapered chimneys spewing
their hellish fire into the heavenly night. Frank imagined them
setting aflame the wings of passing angels.

He recalled what he had thought yesterday,
the chimneys like candles on the God-of-Fuel’s birthday cake. He
wondered now what the wrath of a refinery fire would bring to this
little corner of the world.

Yesterday, Frank mused. Julia Gavin. The
good time they’d had on her cabin cruiser. He felt a stir between
his legs, picturing the blood she offered up during her time of the
month. What a nice gift, he smiled.

Cruiser keys, he reminded himself. Julia had
hidden them in the flybridge when they left for a meal at Ports O
Call Village.

Frank saw the lights of the Cabrillo Marina.
It relaxed him to think of the trip he and Eddie’s millions were
about to take: boating down along the coast of South America.

Frank turned off 22nd and came to a stop at
the Cabrillo Beach Yacht Club. Waiting for the valet he heard muted
music. He gazed over at the large window that framed the
dinner-dance Julia had invited him to. The rich interior housed a
crowded dance floor. It brought to mind a Victorian painting he had
seen years ago.

“Help you, sir?” the valet said, opening the
car door.

Frank slid out and handed him his
invitation.

“Guest of Mrs. Julia Gavin’s,” the valet
said. He handed it back. His eyes traveled over Frank’s boots,
Levi’s, snap-button shirt and old marine jacket. “Your manner of
dress, sir.”

“On my way to a friend’s barbecue.” Opening
the rear door Frank dragged the suitcase out and set it on its
wheels. “Mrs. Gavin is expecting me to deliver this to her, and at
the same time sign some papers she has for me. Only take a
minute.”

“Yes sir, that’ll be fine,” the valet said.
“I’ll park you as close as possible.”

Frank rolled the suitcase toward the
entrance. He by-passed it, moved around the building and onto the
marina walkway.

He halted there and wondered if Julia had
seen him through the window. If she had, she might come out to
greet him—or what if she happens to be on her boat…

That’s all right, Frank thought; they see
each other he would talk her into a cruise with the promise of sex
at sea. When the fun’s over he would kill her and throw her
overboard.

Chapter
101

Kirk glanced back at his car, parked on
22nd.

“Big surprise,” Hicks said. “Nobody stole it
yet.”

“Not likely anybody would,” Kirk told him.
“‘49 Ford sticks out like a sore thumb.” He said, “Wanted to see
her shine under the streetlight.”

“Yeah, right,” Hicks muttered, eyes on Frank
wheeling the suitcase down the ramp and onto the west pier. “Let’s
go.”

Kirk and Hicks left the eucalyptus trees and
moved into the shadows at the side of the club. Through a kitchen
window they saw a security guard with a plate of food, talking with
a yacht-club waitress.

Reaching the marina walkway they stopped and
looked down at the geometrics of the lighted piers, nearly all the
slips occupied. It took awhile to spot Frank through the jumble of
masts and flags.

He was on Julia Gavin’s 46-foot cabin
cruiser, side-tied at the far end of Watchorn Walk, one of the
docks that jutted out from the west pier. Wheeling the suitcase
Frank disappeared into the pilothouse.

Kirk and Hicks went down the ramp. They
continued on toward Watchorn Walk, unnoticed by some boisterous
drinkers on a docked yacht. They halted as Frank came out of the
pilothouse. Through the riggings of a schooner they saw him climb
the deck’s aft ladder, up and into the canvas-enclosed flybridge. A
moment later he came out, returned to deck and went back into the
pilothouse.

The cruiser’s engine started, then hummed at
an idle. Kirk and Hicks rushed toward Watchorn Walk. Turning onto
it Kirk bolted and took the lead.

Frank appeared on deck. He cast off the
first port line and saw Kirk, Hicks losing distance behind him.
Frank cast off the second line and returned to the pilothouse.

The cruiser swung away from its slip. Kirk’s
running speed helped propel him out over the water, hands landing
on the port rail. The cruiser slowed to a near idle and took a
sharp starboard turn toward the breakwater.

Hands tight on the rail Kirk’s body swayed
wide as he looked aft. The stern blocked his view of the dock. He
knew Hicks had to be there by now, left behind. Damn it, Kirk
thought, he would have to deal with Frank on his own.

At port stern Hicks’ left hand was in the
first drain grate of the cruiser’s swim platform. The cruiser
picked up speed, Hicks forced to stretch out in its wake like a
body skier. Vision blurred with spray he discerned the swim ladder
at the other end of the platform. To get to it he would have to go
grate by grate with four more to go.

Battling the water Hicks got his right hand
into the second grate, holding on now with both hands. Going for
the third grate he struggled to get his left hand over the
right.

Frank was at the wheel, unaware of Kirk at
the pilothouse entrance. Kirk stood there, thinking Frank’s Russian
pistol had to be on him. Kirk shivered in the wind as he glimpsed
his father’s Timex on the son of a bitch’s wrist, eyes hardening
then on the marine jacket. Kirk wanted his watch and jacket back,
and wanted them back now.

Frank turned, surprised to see Kirk dash
forward and become airborne, flying into him and wrapping his arms
around him. Forced to release the wheel, Frank’s other hand was
ripped from the throttle handle, yanking it too quickly down into
an idle. It caused the wheel to spin, to drive the cruiser into a
hard turn.

The impact of Kirk’s body brought both men
down onto the teak floor. Kirk kept hold of Frank, stayed on top of
him, face-to-face as they slid headfirst down the stairs and into
the salon, where they came to a stop against the suitcase.

Frank writhed in the bear hug he was in.
Kirk slipped a hand out from under him and punched him in the face.
Frank took it with a throaty sound but had seized the moment, a
bulky length of steel between them now.

Kirk arched his back as the silenced gun
popped a bullet. It tore between them and cracked into the edge of
the galley table. With one hand Kirk grabbed the gun barrel,
clamping Frank’s forearm with the other. In the struggle for the
gun they both rose to their feet.