Thirty-seven
John Cantrell had little to say during the drive
west. He pulled into the last rest stop along the interstate before
reaching the Mississippi River and shut off the engine.
“How are you feeling?”
Jennifer had recovered slowly. Her head throbbed.
Her muscles ached. From time to time, she felt nauseous. “I don’t know.
I’m scared.”
“How do you want me to handle this?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“We’ll put up somewhere and see if you get sick. If
you don’t, we assume we’ve been toyed with. If you do, then we take their
story about the toxin seriously. I can take you to a hospital. They
won’t believe our story. They probably won’t be able to help you.
They’ll turn you over to the authorities.”
Tears came to her eyes. “What else can we do?”
“We have three weeks to find out who wants Evelyn
Haxx dead and why they’re going to so much trouble to get it done. But
what I said when this all began still stands. Why this charade? Why
Rosie and Dimitri, and now you and me? They could have hired a gun off the street for
a few hundred bucks and Evelyn would have been dead within a day.”
Jennifer was beyond thinking rationally. Fear filled
every spare void of her consciousness.
John continued on their way, but pulled off the first
exit ramp he encountered and paid at an out-of-the-way motel for
twenty-four undisturbed hours. Jennifer showered and scrubbed herself raw, but the
stain finally washed away. Exhausted, neither of them had any problem
falling asleep in one another's arms.
Jennifer awoke in the evening feeling reasonably fit
and refreshed. “We’d better get something to eat while we have the
chance,” John suggested.
“But what will you do if was all a trick?”
John’s grin was particularly unpleasant. “We
introduce Mr. Garko to the clowns who have been pulling our strings and
see who prevails. End of story. I’m hoping it goes down that way.”
Jennifer’s mood improved as the evening wore on. The
subterranean vaults, the threat of a toxin, all far too unreal, like
nightmares that might go away if persistently ignored. They ate at the
best restaurant they could find, and then took in a movie before returning
to the motel.
At four in the morning, Jennifer leaned over the edge
of the bed and vomited. John leaped to his feet, horrified. Jennifer
looked around and managed a feeble smile. “I don’t think it’s anything.
I feel okay.”
“Are you sure?”
Jennifer gestured frantically for the waste paper
basket by the desk. John got it to her before she vomited a second time.
Moments later, she had broken out in a cold sweat and doubled up in the
middle of the bed.
“Stomach cramps,” she whispered.
“Jennifer, I’m sorry.”
Jennifer nodded, aware that the illness spelled her
own certain death, or Evelyn’s.
John watched her writhe in quiet agony, helpless. As
promised, she recovered before dawn, showered, and napped, awakening to
the day’s first sunlight pouring through the front window.
“Let’s get a move on it,” John murmured. “We don’t
have time to waste.”
They reached the castle overlooking the river before
the sun had cleared the trees to the east. “You do the talking,” John
said. “I’ll step in when you need back-up. Keep the story simple. We
found the people who hired Dimitri and confirmed that Evelyn was their
target. We don't mention the toxin for now. If Evelyn wants to live, she’ll help us nail the party that’s
trying to put her down. How are you holding up?”
“I’m a little jittery.”
“There’s a way out of this. We’ll find it.”
Jennifer found Francis pacing her second floor
apartment. She faced the older woman feeling more mature and less
tolerant of the older woman's eccentricities and her narrow focus on life.
Jennifer told her story. Francis noticed the change
in the child she had known even as she absorbed what she had suspected all
along. What could John and the girl have hoped to accomplish?
“Jennifer, what has happened to you?”
“I’m still alive. I’d like to keep it that that
way. It’s going to take everyone working together to keep anyone else
from getting hurt.”
Emily hovered in the background. Francis sent her to
gather the girls and the two men, Gabby and the newcomer. Within minutes, Emily closed the door
behind the group, as if security was an issue.
“Would your father or his friends have reason to harm
you?” Francis asked of Evelyn Haxx.
For a moment, Evelyn seemed not to react at all.
“But I haven’t had contact with my father in almost ten years.”
“You told me you had a falling out with your father.
Please tell us about that.”
“I was raped! My father disowned me.”
“When you were a model,” Francis said.
“They accused me of blackmail, but I was raped.”
“You told me your father refused to help you.”
“He told me that I would embarrass him and ruin his
political career. He told me that my modeling career was of no
importance, and to keep my accusations to myself to prevent a scandal.”
“You would never fully confide in me about that,”
Francis said quietly.
“It wasn’t of any importance by the time I met you.
What could you have done about it? By the time I met you, I was nothing
but a common whore.”
“A whore playing a dangerous game with powerful
people,” Francis said bitterly. “Evelyn, I knew of five safety deposit
boxes you were keeping at the time, and I’ve seen some of your miniature
cameras you’re so fond of. How many of your father’s friends and
associates have you set up to punish your father?”
“Enough,” she spat in defiance. “Enough to do the
job about as thoroughly as the Roach Brothers ruined my career. But that
was years ago. I’ve done nothing. My father knows nothing of what I’ve
been doing. I’m not as angry as I was in the beginning. My life has no
more dignity, but it’s been far more peaceful.”
Bertha, Emily and Sally were frowning, much of the
conversation having gone over their heads. “I met Evelyn in New York
following a visit to France,” Francis explained. “The Roach Brothers have
an international reputation. She returned with me to Los Angeles rather
than risk arrest in New York for the charges of blackmail and defamation
of character they filed. I knew at the time that her father was a New
York politician. I had no idea that he and Senator Hacks were the same
person. Senator Caliph Hacks is the man we’re talking about, Evelyn’s
father.”
“My father would never try to hurt me,” Evelyn said.
“He’s not responsible for what has happened. I changed the spelling of my
name legally. He doesn’t even know.”
“If not your father, then someone acting in your
father’s name,” John said, “or someone concerned with your father’s
reputation. Your father is a political dead duck for as long as he has a
daughter who fucks for a living.”
“But he doesn’t know!” Evelyn screamed at him.
“He found out,” John said, “or one of his
associates. Important men have adversaries, Miss Haxx. As soon as they
find out about you, they turn your father’s image to mud. Somebody may be
trying to prevent that from happening. If a few prostitutes are killed to
hide the fact, who’s going to know or care?”
Evelyn looked promptly panic-stricken. “But what are
we going to do?”
John looked to Francis and Craig Netherman for
support. “The only way to know the score for certain would be to speak
with Senator Hacks directly. I don’t imagine it would be easy. It may
not be possible.”
“I’ll speak with my father,” Evelyn said defiantly.
“He has no heart, but he’s not an evil man. I’m so very angry with him,
but I’ve never truly hated him.”
“I’m only concerned with the party that wants you
dead,” John said calmly. “If that party discovers we’re on to them,
they’ll redouble their efforts.”
Evelyn stood trembling, outraged and helpless. “Then
what, you bastard? What?”
“I need to speak with him
myself,” John said. “I can tell
if he’s telling the truth. It’s something I’m good at. If he’s not
responsible, he may be able to help us find out who is. If not, we’ll
need to look elsewhere.”
Evelyn glared at John, and then Jennifer, as if she
was ultimately responsible for the nightmarish course of events.
“Evelyn, look at me,” Francis said.
Evelyn turned, her movements wooden, her expression
lax and her skin tone ashen.
“Where is your father now?”
“I don’t know. In Washington.”
“Where does he reside when he’s not in Washington?”
“South of here, just across the state line. It was a
horse ranch. I was born and raised there. His new wife lives there. She
hates it, but I think it’s the only tie to the past he has left. We were
a family when my mother was alive. We were happy. And then he was gone
all the time, and my mother started drinking. He abandoned us.”
Evelyn gathered her courage to address her entire
audience. “He’ll talk to me. I can deal with this misunderstanding
myself.”
“We can’t possible challenge authority of that
magnitude,” Francis said in a frightened whisper.
“He’s going to want to keep it quiet,” John said.
“We’ll let Evelyn have her talk with her father. It’ll either be a
father-daughter reunion, or a trap.”
“More like a land mine,” Craig said. I doubt if we
could defuse it without someone getting hurt.”
John eyed each of the women in turn. “If we can
figure out a way to give it a try without getting ourselves killed in the
process, we have to stick together. If we’re separated, we’ll quietly
disappear off the face of the earth, one by one.”
“How dare you,” Evelyn murmured.
John turned to Craig. “You’re handy to have around,
but this isn’t your fight.”
“I’ll make it part of his contract,” Francis said in
a tone of ice. “No matter what the cost.”
Craig shrugged his concession. “It’s what I do for a
living. Hell, I’m game.”
“Do we need his help, Francis?” Evelyn glared at John
with ill-concealed hatred. “Do we need the help of a cold-blooded
murderer?”
John made no effort to defend himself. He looked to
Francis for her decision.
“We have been butchered like sheep,” Francis said.
“We need the help of a man who knows violence of that magnitude.”
“But you hired Mr. Netherman to protect us! Craig
has fought honorably in three wars, and we all know what Mr. Cantrell’s
motive is, and I think it’s disgusting!”
“Hey, hang on there, lady.” Craig put his hand on
Evelyn’s arm and glanced nervously at John. “I’m not in the same league
with this guy. Put us on opposite sides of the fence, pit us against each
other, and I’m dead in a heartbeat. If we’re going to be taking on others
like him, I want at least one of them on our side.”
Craig threw John a nervous glance. “No personal
insult intended, buddy.”
“None taken,” John said.
Francis stared Evelyn down. “Somebody is trying to
kill you. Four of us are already dead.”
Evelyn put her hands to her face, sobbed
uncontrollably, and leaned against Craig for support.
“If Jennifer is John’s motive for helping us,”
Francis said to Evelyn, “then it works in our favor, but it’s not John who
has chosen to sacrifice so much for us. It’s Jennifer who has done so.
My God, woman, how can you be so blind to what she is doing for you?”
Evelyn’s sobs intensified and she fled the room.
Craig started to go after her.
“Wait,” Francis said. “All of you. Understand one
thing. Evelyn was a fashion model well on her way to gaining
international recognition. She was betrayed and destroyed, and now we are
her only friends. She dissociates from us only in self-defense, and it
does anger me very much that she takes that tact, but I don’t want her
held responsible for the deaths that have occurred, and I don’t want her
held responsible for the danger she poses to the rest of us. It’s not her
doing.”
John interceded. “I want it kept in mind that more
may be at stake. Dimitri was a clown. He had no qualifications as a
killer aside from his willingness. Evelyn’s death could have been handled
in a far more professional manner. Jennifer and I know for a fact that
this professionalism is missing, and it’s a mystery at least as great and
as dangerous to us as the attempts on our lives.
“We need information on the senator,” John continued
in the quiet that followed, “but once we go after it, we need to move
fast. Garko’s and those he represents will still be looking for the
reason a Carvelli was used to kill a prostitute. If he tails us and
discovers the connection between Evelyn Haxx and Senator Hacks, he’ll
clean up what’s left of us in a matter of hours because it’ll implicate
public officials of importance to the mob. Aside from that and for
reasons I won’t go into at this time, Jennifer and I have clear reason to
believe that we have no more than three weeks to resolve this nightmare.”
“Three weeks,” Francis murmured.
John eyed Jennifer. “It’ll be enough. I don’t know
what they have in the way of a motive or goal for what has been happening,
but they weren’t planning on me being a part of it.”
“The best laid plans of men and monsters,” Francis
added with what remained of a glare of distrust of John Cantrell and his
kind.
John’s chuckle
was devoid of warmth. “Let’s hope so.”
