My Gun Has Bullets (34 page)

"I don't like it," Delbert said.

"It's nonnegotiable."

If Charlie was going to have a chance, he would have to make sure they met in a place he could control, and on his terms.

"I'll kill the woman," Delbert retorted.

''Then the dog shows up at UBC,
Frankencop
dies, and so do you."

Delbert spit out a gob of blood and glared at Eddie, who was whimpering on the floor, his pants soaked in his own piss. Delbert liked everything clean and this wasn't just a mess, it was an incredible, ugly mess. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, his injuries, or the dirt, the blood, the drool, and the piss that surrounded him. Charlie Willis's proposal had the benefit of being quick and clean, and Delbert had to appreciate that. However it went down, it would be orderly.

"All right, Willis. Tonight."

Delbert hung up and grabbed Eddie by the throat, pulling the urine-soaked, sobbing executive producer to his feet.

"You're going to call them," Delbert said, "and they are going to bring her to the studio."

Eddie nodded, a simpering coward.

"You better hope she's alive, Eddie, because that's the only reason you still are."

Delbert threw Eddie back on the floor and went to clean himself up.

# # #

Charlie burst into Dr. Gaston Grospiron's clinic and searched all the examination rooms until he found the jabbering Frenchman looking down a wheezing St. Bernard's throat.

"Where's the dog?" Charlie demanded.

"Ah, my good friend, I 'ave bean looking for you," Dr. Grospiron excused himself from the St. Bernard and its owner, and led Charlie into the hallway. "I 'ave good news. Ze dawg does not 'ave ze rabies."

"Great, where is he?"

"What do you mean'?"

"Where is the damn dog?"

Dr. Grospiron shrugged. "Most of 'eem is in a body bag in ze freezer, ze 'ed is steel in ze lab."

Charlie felt his heart skip a beat. "You decapitated the dog?"

"Of course," Dr. Grospiron replied. "I 'ad to exameen ze brain to determeen if 'e 'ad rabies."

Charlie slumped against the wall. Things only got worse. No matter what he did, he always ended up further and further behind.

Dr. Grospiron gave his friend a bewildered look. "You weren't planning on keeping 'eem, were you?"

"Actually, I was planning on giving him away," Charlie said.

"A vicious beast like zat?" Dr. Grospiron shook his head, confused. "You are deranged, my friend."

Dr. Grospiron walked away, shaking his head. Charlie, despondent, slid down to the floor and rested his head on his knees. What the hell was he going to do now?

The door beside Charlie opened and a woman covered in Givenchy emerged, her perfectly coiffed French poodle walking in time with her owner.

"You did a wonderful job, Emilia darling," the woman said to the groomer. "You're the Jose Eber of dogs."

Charlie lifted his head and glanced at the dog, who looked like a walking topiary, then peered into the room at the groomer, a petite Mexican woman who was already sweeping up the hair.

An idea occurred to Charlie. It was a long shot, but it might buy him a few precious minutes when it counted.

"Excuse me," Charlie asked the groomer, "but how good are you at making a dog look really pitiful?"

S
abrina awoke to find herself in a black silk negligee, sitting on a couch, her hands bound behind her back with duct tape, her head resting on a tuxedo-clad man's shoulder. Her head pounded, and she felt like throwing up.

"Smile," Burt said. She looked up, just long enough to see Burt in a tuxedo holding a Polaroid camera, and then she was blinded by the flashbulb.

"Who are you? Where am I?" She squinted, trying to focus her eyes and control the urge to vomit. The man she saw, in that brief moment, looked like he'd gone bobbing for apples in a french fryer.

Otto abruptly stood up and hurried over to Burt. Sabrina, losing her support, flopped down onto the couch cushions, which reeked of beer, Doritos, and body odor.

Ignoring her, Otto and Burt waited anxiously as the Polaroid slowly spit out the photo. When it was nearly out, Otto plucked it from the camera and held the photo in his hands, watching as the image of Sabrina resting her head on his shoulder began to appear.

Sabrina blinked several times, and her eyes focused on a dozen Polaroids spread out on the cushion beside her. Each photo showed her in various stages of undress, propped in a different adoring or suggestive position with either Otto or Burt, wearing their rented tuxedos, a stupid grin on their blistered, greasy, fire-seared faces.

That was too much. She vomited on the floor, her stomach heaving until she thought she might pass out again. But she regained control over her spasming muscles and opened her eyes.

Neither Otto or Burt seemed to have noticed her intestinal upset, they were so completely absorbed in the picture.

''This is the best one yet," Otto said. "I reek suave."

"You do," Burt agreed.

Her stomach purged, Sabrina suddenly felt better, her mind sharper, and she began to regain her bearings. The last thing she remembered was going to take a shower, and having the sensation someone else was in the house. Then there was an enormous crash, and she dived to the floor. The walls caved in on her and that was the last thing she saw before waking up here.

Wherever
here
was.

She took in her surroundings. It was a mobile home. Centerfolds were stapled to the walls, and the floors were littered with fast-food containers, beer cans, and potato chip bags. The furniture was ravaged, and the TV set looked like it was stolen from Ozzie and Harriet's living room.

Sabrina did a mental inventory of her body. She felt a little bruised, and there was a cut somewhere on her head, but she was certain she hadn't been raped or sodomized, which was a tremendous relief. She preferred not to imagine what else they might have done with her while she was unconscious. Her feet felt numb, and she couldn't move her legs. She glanced down to discover her ankles wrapped together in duct tape. She was a prisoner.

"Take a look at this." Otto held the picture in front of her face. "Don't I look debonair?"

Sabrina thought very carefully about what to say. "Yes, you do."

Otto seemed genuinely pleased. "We're on our way to the top," he predicted to Burt. Sabrina concentrated on squeezing any fear out of her voice. "I don't mean to sound rude, but what am I doing here?"

"Promotion," Burt said.

"For
Sunn of a Gunn,
" Otto added. "We have to show the network we're twice as good as George Hamilton."

"I see." Sabrina realized she was being held by two dangerous lunatics. The good news was that so far she hadn't been hurt. Humiliated and degraded, yes, but she could live with that. After all, she was an actress. "So you're actors."

Otto and Burt shared a proud grin.

"Not yet," Burt said, "but soon."

"I'm an actress, so that makes us colleagues," Sabrina said.

Colleagues.
Otto liked the way it sounded. Very classy. Very suave. "That's us, a couple colleagues," he said.

"Suave and debonair colleagues," Burt corrected.

"Well, since we're all members of the acting fraternity, do you think you could untie me?" Sabrina asked. "I sure would love to go home and clean up."

"We can't do that," Burt said.

"Why not?" Sabrina asked.

"For one thing, your home kind of fell down," Otto explained. "And we need you for rehearsals."

"We got to practice being classy dudes," Burt said to Sabrina, who was getting dizzy again from the sheer insanity of it all.

The phone rang. Otto shared a look with Burt. "This could be our future calling."

Otto excitedly answered the phone. Sure enough, it was Eddie Planet.

"Great work today," Eddie said. "Really exceptional job. I think we're on track."

Eddie was wearing clean clothes and was feeling a little better now that Delbert's gun wasn't pointed at his head anymore. But not much. Delbert was still in the house, dressing his wounds and finding some of Eddie's stuff to wear.

"Now we have to find a sophisticated writer," Otto said. "Someone who can capture all the nuances of our personalities."

"Stephen King," Burt suggested.

For once, Eddie had to agree. If anyone was going to capture their personalities, it would be him.

"Steve-o is on board, guaranteed," Eddie replied. "Look, guys, there is one little thing. You wouldn't have Sabrina Bishop over there, would you?"

"Yeah, she's been helping us get into character."

Eddie shuddered at the images
that
conjured up. "Bring her to the studio at nine o'clock tonight."

"Why?"

"Because she's going to be your co-star in
Sunn of a Gunn,
" Eddie vamped. "The network is wild about her and they are desperate to do a screen test with the three of you tonight, in Times Square."

"Cool," Otto said.

"A word of advice—you don't want to hurt or molest her in any way." Then Eddie remembered Otto's previous remark. "You haven't, have you?"

"No, all we did was take some promo shots."

"Good, your future in show business depends on it," Eddie said firmly. "I'll see you tonight. Don't be late."

Otto hung up and gave Burt the high-five. Sabrina watched, dumbfounded, as they did their little dance. A soft-shoe, a patty-cake, two jumping jacks, and then a quick spin into their
Saturday Night Fever
pose.

"Too cool for words," Otto and Burt said in unison, then turned and smiled at Sabrina. For the first time since she'd regained consciousness and retched her guts out, she feared for her life.

# # #

McGarrett lifted his leg on the Robokiller. The giant, alien soldier hid behind a scaled-down skyscraper, waiting for his remote control cue to smash the building, fire a few rockets from his head, and make the audience go wild.

But the audiences were long gone, and the only ones left were Charlie and McGarrett, who lurked behind the towering steel monster, killing time until the exchange. Charlie had arrived early to commit a burglary, and get comfortably settled in. His life, and Sabrina's, could depend on every move he made now.

He glanced down at McGarrett, who kicked some dirt over his mark and sniffed it to make sure it was sending a strong message. Charlie was pleased with McGarrett. Emilia the dog groomer had done a fantastic job. McGarrett had never looked worse. Mangy, smelly, ratty, everything that Boo Boo ever was, a dead ringer for the decapitated hell pooch. Unfortunately, McGarrett was also a lot bigger.

Charlie was banking on a few things being in his favor—darkness, distance, and the probability that Delbert Skaggs and Eddie Planet had never seen Boo Boo up close. If Charlie was wrong, he had one other option literally up his sleeve, stolen from the
Global Armageddon
control booth just a few minutes ago.

Now it was just a question of waiting.

# # #

Otto and Burt, carrying a trunk between them, emerged from the Pinnacle Studios service tunnel, up the subway station steps and into the center of Times Square.

They stood in the darkness for a moment, soaking up the elaborate illusion. The famous neon signs and diamond screens were off, but the place was still striking in its authenticity, despite being compressed into roughly two acres.

The first three floors of every building in Times Square had been reproduced in three-quarter scale, and had been used in just about every series Pinnacle Studios had ever made. The TV shows shot everything tight and low, while the feature films threw money into fancy matte photography to add the tops of the buildings, streets in the distance, and hundreds of cars.

Standing here brought fond memories to Otto and Burt. There wasn't a window here they hadn't crashed through, a rooftop they hadn't tumbled from, or a storefront they hadn't driven into.

But those days were gone. They were stars now. The two of them, and the woman in the trunk, were going to be America's favorite threesome.

Eddie Planet walked out of the Lindy's Deli facade, a nervous smile on his face, to see the two charred stuntmen standing in their tuxedos, the large wardrobe trunk between them.

"Glad you boys could make it. Love the tuxedos, very nice touch."

"Where's the camera crew?" Otto asked.

"They're running late." Eddie looked around anxiously. "Where's the girl?"

Otto and Burt unlatched the trunk and pulled it open. Sabrina tumbled out, dishevelled and sweat-soaked in her negligee, gasping for breath. Her wrists were lashed together behind her with duct tape, and although her legs were free, Eddie could see bruises around her ankles where they had been bound.

"I see you've shown her your usual hospitality," Eddie remarked with disdain, but apparently Burt didn't pick up on it.

"We got some pictures," Burt replied excitedly, reaching into his jacket for them.

"No thanks." Eddie waved Burt off. ''That won't be necessary."

Sabrina struggled to clear her head and catch her breath. There might be only one chance to make a break for it, and she wanted to be ready.

"So what are we gonna do first?" Otto asked.

"Find a new hand," said a voice behind them.

In that same instant, a bullet blew apart Otto's left hand, spraying his rented tuxedo with blood and bone fragments.

Eddie screamed and hit the ground, putting him eye to eye with Sabrina. When he saw the anger in her eyes, he wondered if he wasn't safer standing up.

Otto grabbed the remainder of his hand and whirled around to see Delbert Skaggs emerging from the darkness, holding his silenced gun.