Dues of Mortality (31 page)

“
Why
don't we go in my office, where the air is better,” he finally
suggested and cocked his head toward a well-lit stretch of hallway at
the bar’s south end.

Moments
later, the three of them were standing in a charming little room with
two genuine leather, sectional sofas, an executive oak desk, and a
pair of colorful abstract paintings on either side of a webscreen
pinned to the wall between them. Xavier thought it more reminiscent
of a psychiatrist's waiting room than a manager's office.

“
This
is cozy,” Xavier commented. “Do you charge for the full
hour or just the first fifty minutes?”

“
A
bartender who moonlights as a shrink; never heard that one before,”
Max said. He playfully dropped into a pneumatic chair behind the desk
and propped his feet up, inches from its 3D blotter.

Xavier
looked around aimlessly.
“
This
is really nice, man,” he said. He was losing his courage, but
fast. He took a seat in the only chair opposite the desk while Glenda
parked it on one of the fancy leather sofas. “Being your own
boss, not having to punch a clock. And you can throw people out when
they get on your nerves. What kind of taxes you paying on...”

“
If
you're gonna be a while getting to the point,” Max interrupted,
“I can always step out for ice cream.”

Xavier
blushed.
Same old
straight-from-the-hip Max.
Zero tolerance for
bullshit.
It was actually one of the things Xavier liked
most about Max. But right now, that didn’t much matter.
None
of Max’s good points mattered. Could Xavier
trust him
after all this time?
That
was the question. Holding grudges didn’t ever seem to be Max’s
style—he was a lot like Benny in that way—but the truth
was, people changed...a lot, especially with years to work on it.

“
I
kinda don't know where to start,” Xavier said.

Max
snickered. “If I had a nickel for every time that was the case,
I’d have enough money to...” he splayed his hands, “buy
my own bar.”

Despite
its harmless intent, Xavier couldn’t appreciate the joke.

“
Legal
troubles?” Max asked.

Xavier
waxed sheepish. “Yeah, legal troubles.”

“
I
know a good lawyer who doesn't mind doing pro bono every now and
then.”

“
Not
those kind.”

Max
studied his old friend for a second then said, “Didn’t
think so.”

Xavier
threw Glenda a quick glance hoping it would put a little steel in his
spine. Having her close made him feel better, more confident...or
perhaps less selfish. He almost wanted to pull her off the sofa and
plant her by his side like a fence post. He had no idea just how much
of his discomfort she was already absorbing.

Men
and their pride
, Glenda thought as she watched Xavier
struggle to enunciate. On the surface it could read as so much
nonsense, but in this case, she knew exactly how he felt. It was
torturing Xavier to come here and beg like this. In fact, he was more
afraid of importuning
this
man than he was his own brother. Something he never would have had to
do if it wasn't for her.

The
two mens' voices faded into background noise as Glenda contemplated
their predicament. It had become painfully obvious that she'd have to
rely more on herself and start taking definitive steps if she wanted
this lunacy to end. To simply go it the other way around left the
outcome completely to the whim of others, and that she could no
longer stand. Whenever Glenda closed her eyes all she could see was
Perry Jones with his arm around her throat, having violated the trust
that she so naively placed in him. That's what men were good at:
violating her trust. Plus, she had spent her entire life believing
that innocent people had nothing to fear from the police and that
only the guilty ones ever try to run. Now, she was learning that it
didn't much matter
who
she was afraid
of
,
only that she was afraid. And that was all the reason
anybody
needed to run.

Why?

Why
would someone want her dead? And how did Richard Kelmer know?
What
did Richard Kelmer know? Glenda pushed her fingers hard into her
forehead.
What was the deal
with Jones?
Could she still trust
some
police
? How would she know
which ones? Roberts and Bowen would never have harmed her, would
they? What if she was just making it all worse by running? She looked
up at Xavier.

“
Xavier?”
she said barely audible. “I think maybe we should...”

“
Webscreen
on,” Max ordered, aiming his head toward the big clear panel
between the paintings.

The
webscreen flashed to life and the rooms occupants all turned their
attention to the feed. Unlike the televisions in the bar that were
each tuned to various sports channels, Max's private webscreen had
been set to a twenty-four hour news site. Ohio News Network to be
exact. Max thought he might have to do a search, but as it happened,
the site was replaying the video of an early morning press meeting,
featuring a Capt. Horace Penfield of the Cleveland Police Department.
He was standing before a crowd of reporters at a raised podium in a
department conference room downtown. And he was wearing the most
hideous damn necktie anyone had ever seen.

“
Ladies
and gentlemen, I want to make it clear that we are still very much in
the middle of this investigation and I would ask your utmost
cooperation with keeping your reports as fair and as tame as
possible,” Penfield said. “CPD, as you know, has an extra
vested interest in bringing the perpetrator or perpetrators to
justice, and we would appreciate your understanding in this matter.”

“
Captain
Penfield,” yelled a voice from the throngs. “Do you give
any merit to the reports that the murders of these officers were the
result of some type of plot gone awry by a radical, feminist,
would-be terrorist?”

Penfield
looked annoyed at the question. “It's not going to help anyone
to try and draw conclusions before all the facts are in. All I can
tell you is that Glenda Jameson was being kept under guard for her
own protection
at
the time these shootings occurred.”

Glenda
and Xavier rallied to cap their reactions.

“
So
you are pursuing this as a kidnapping?” the reporter followed
up.

“
We're
pursuing
the people of interest. This is a
unique set of circumstances that so far have defied the conventional
wisdom. We simply ask that if anyone has information on this case and
or the people involved to contact us immediately.”

On
either side of Penfield, a pair of 360-degree portraits of Glenda
rotated like holographic bookends. The site also scrolled the
description of her car and its license plate along the bottom of the
screen.

Xavier
grimaced and stuck his thumb in his eye. “Shit.”

“
It
broke late this morning,” Max said. “It's been on half
the sites since then. Took me a minute to recognize her.”

That's
what the icky look was about
, Glenda thought.

“
Please
tell me you didn't drive that car here,” Max said to Xavier.

Xavier
shook his head. “Ditched it.”

Another
voice from the crowd of reporters spoke up. “What about her
uncovered ties with the FFP and Hellene Dickerson?”

“
Being
a member of a group doesn't make a person guilty,” Penfield
answered. “I am aware of the current social and criminal
climate, but not everything that happens is about some crackpot
trying to make a statement. We haven't found any connection from this
case to Hellene Dickerson's brand of feminist militancy or her past
crimes.”

“
So
you have been investigating that angle?”

“
I
didn't say that.”

“
Feminist
militancy?” Glenda said, shocked. She sprang from the couch one
second from hysterics. “I'm not a militant
anything
and I've never even met Hellene
Dickerson!”

Xavier
laid a hand on her arm. “Take it easy, Glenda.”

“
No!
I quit FFP before any of that crap even happened!”

“
Glenda,
calm down.” He turned to Max. “Max, believe me, this is
not what it seems.”

Max
just rattled his head. “How in the name of God did
you
get involved in
this
?”
he asked Xavier. It was the one question burning a hole in his brain
since he'd recognized Glenda.

Xavier
squared his chest. He didn’t
want
to drag his friend into anything, but If Max was going to agree to
help him, it had to be a completely informed decision. No lying.
Xavier had caused the man enough grief—even if Max didn’t
hold him responsible—and if he were going to ask for more, it
would at least be done honestly. “First of all, she’s not
a murderer and neither am I. And obviously I didn't kidnap her.”

“
You
were the 'accomplice'?”

“
Yes.
The cop that was supposed to be protecting her, turned on her and
tried to kill her. He's the one who shot the other two. I ended up
there by sheer happenstance.”

“
Let
me guess: that irrepressible luck of yours.”

Xavier
sighed openly. “Don’t you think I know how it sounds,
Max? Hell, none of it makes sense to me and I was there. All I know
is that someone is after her and the people she thought she could
trust to protect her can't be trusted.
But
we're not murderers
. If you believe nothing else I tell
you, you've got to believe that.”

Max
turned thoughtful. His silence dragged out the seconds into hours.
“Dirty cops in this town?” he finally said, cynically.
“I’m agog. What the hell are you gonna do?”

Xavier
hesitated. There were a dozen different reasons not to share he and
Glenda's plan of action, not the least of which was that they really
didn't have one. Xavier was betting everything on Glenda's assumption
about Kelmer, which even
she
acknowledged was as solid as a cardboard sailboat.

“
We
may have
one
chance
to learn
what's going on before we get thrown to the wolves,” Xavier
said. “We're going to try and track down a guy who Glenda
thinks might know something. In fact, she thinks he may have known
all about this before it even started. He even warned her to avoid
the police and this is what happened when she didn't.”

“
You
realize you won't be able to run forever,” Max pointed out.

“
No
argument there. It's a long shot, but as you can see, if we turn
ourselves in with the goose egg we’ve got now, we’re as
good as dead.”

Glenda
had a surge of bipolarism. She could have done without the “as
good as dead” part, but she couldn't help picking up on the
“we” in Xavier's explanation.

“
Truth
is we haven't thought very far ahead,” Xavier said. “But
what choice do you have when the police become hit-men?”

“
What
do you need from me?” Max asked.

“
Neither
one of us is linked up. We need a base, somewhere we can rest and
make calls off the grid. We could also use a means of
transportation.”

“
That's
a lot considering the circumstances. Who's this guy you're looking
for?”

“
His
name's Kelmer, he's a researcher for Millenitech.”

“
Millenitech?
I never stop hearing about that place.”

Glenda
looked hard at Max. “Do you really have to ask so many
questions?” she blurted. Max had posed his last inquiry with a
manner of twinkle in his eye that rubbed her all sorts of the wrong
way. Also—and it may have just been her nerves—she didn't
like how he almost seemed
intent
on forcing Xavier to reach a clear level of despair before
volunteering any aid.

Xavier
checked Glenda immediately. “Glenda, don't.”

“
I’m
sorry. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go blabbing
about everything! He might be your friend, but I don’t know him
from Adam!”

Xavier
gripped her biceps and looked straight into her eyes. “Glenda,
I trust him.”

“
Well,
I don’t,” she snapped back. She batted her eyes at Max.
“No offense.”

Max
just waved it off, almost as if strange fugitive women kicked him in
the dick every day.

Xavier
stood firm. “Glenda listen...”

“
No!
There are people
trying
to kill me
.
I’m
scared!
”

Xavier
softened his grip. The words had slid through Glenda's throat like
sandpaper. Although, she'd ultimately spoken them more with her eyes
than her mouth. He saw her tearing up and wondered again if he
shouldn’t have just kept walking that night in the park. Maybe
he was screwing it all up, just like he feared. Shit, if he didn’t
even have confidence in himself, it was no wonder he couldn’t
evoke any from a woman running for her life.