Donovan Creed 11 - Because We Can! (10 page)

16.

“WHAT’S UP?” CALLIE says.

“Please tell me you’re not in Central Park.”

“I’m not.”

“Thank God!”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Decker.”

“Who’s that?”

“The Willow Lake bomber. Ryan Decker, self-proclaimed urban terrorist.”

“Shit. What’s he done? If he’d set off a bomb in Central Park, I would’ve heard it.”

“Different strategy this time. About 30 minutes ago, scores of college-age men swarmed a section of Central Park.”

“What do you mean, ‘swarmed’?”

“They attacked several cops and dozens of citizens. Sprayed some sort of aerosol into their faces to disorient them, and knocked them out. Then they pulled their pants down and wrote BWC on their asses.”

“That’s
insane
! Was anyone hurt?”

“Not that we’ve heard.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“I have no idea.”

I give Callie a minute to think on it. While waiting, I look out the window and spot a sign covered in bird shit that says New Orleans: 18 miles. I can’t get that damn sketch fast enough.

Callie says, “What’s his fascination with asses, do you suppose?”

“Humiliation. If you don’t want to physically hurt someone, pulling their pants down in public is about as humiliating as it gets. Especially for a cop.”

Callie says, “They’re doing it to prove they can.”

“I agree. And by including cops, they’re sending the message they can do whatever they want whenever they want. For the moment, this is what they want. But later on?”

“I’m trying to picture it.”

“Which part?”

“Cops lying on the ground, pants around their ankles, messages written on their asses. This might look like a prank, but it’s not.”

“The media will treat it like a wilding, and the late-night comics will have a field day, but you’re right, this is serious. I’ve never been more concerned about a threat in my entire life.”

“What
is
the threat, exactly?”

“That it could catch on. That BWC could wind up being the rallying cry for street thugs, street gangs, nerds, loner-stoners, and every terrorist wannabe in the country. If Decker’s group can humiliate cops in broad daylight they can humiliate anyone. Judges. CEO’s. Nuns. If they can penetrate the security of Central Park, every ass in Congress could be penetrated.”

“Please tell me that last part was an attempt at political humor.”

“It was.”

“Well, don’t give up your day job.”

“Okay. On a serious note, what happened in Central Park was an organized, controlled swarm. You know those flash mobs that suddenly show up and start dancing in public places? This was like that.”

“But if they’re not hurting anyone, what are they after?”

“They’re getting our attention. My attention, to be precise.”

“Yours?”

“Police found a small portion of a dime novel today, lying beside one of the victims. It’s titled,
Emmett Love: Hero of the Western Plains
.”

“So?”

“You remember Rose? The witchy nurse that helped Doctor Box with your operation?”

“Of course.”

“She told me I’m Emmett Love’s direct descendent.”

“Tell me again who Emmett Love was?”

“Original sheriff of Dodge City. Before Wyatt Earp and all the others.”

“Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

“I don’t think so. Attached to the cover was a note addressed to Donovan Creed, Agency Director, Sensory Resources. No signature on the note, just the words:
Because We Can!
”

“This guy Decker must be connected to you somehow. Did they catch any of the college kids who were involved?”

“No. They limited their activity to a specific area of the park, and sprayed everyone in it. Then scattered before anyone regained consciousness.”

“Then how does anyone know what happened? I can’t imagine the victims could provide this much information.”

“It’s all over the Internet, Callie. Every victim was photographed and videoed.”

“By whom?”

“The flash mob. Wait. I’m getting a call. Can you hang on a sec?”

“Of course. Who’s calling?”

“Kathleen. Maybe she saw something.”

“Gosh, I hope she wasn’t one of the victims,” Callie says. “Or Addie.”

“Hang on, I’ll let you know.”

I take Kathleen’s call, then click back to Callie, who asks if everything’s all right.

“They’re fine. She and Addie weren’t there. She hasn’t heard anything about it.”

“What did she want?”

“I don’t know, but she’s been acting weird as hell today. She called earlier to tell me not to call her again. Yet here she is, calling me. She said she needed to tell me something.”

“Any idea what?”

“Nope. Just that it’s urgent.”

“And you replied?”

I told her I was in the middle of a terrorist attack, and said whatever she wanted to tell me would have to wait till I get back to town.”

“You’ve got a lot on your plate. I’m glad she understood.”

“I won’t call her back if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t mind. But I do want it to end.”

“I’ll make that very clear.”

“How about you call her tomorrow night, after you get back, and put her on speaker, so I can hear you end things once and for all.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks, Donovan. By the way, I keep checking my phone for that police sketch. What’s the holdup?”

“I’m working on it.”

She pauses. “Should I be worried?”

“About what?”

“Jill Whittaker. Or DiPiese, or whatever she’s calling herself today.”

“What are you saying, exactly?”

“Is she as pretty as Sheriff Cox said?”

“Don’t give her a second thought. Or Kathleen. Or anyone else.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

We hang up, and I notice the car’s not moving. The driver informs me we’re 16 miles out of New Orleans, stuck in a major traffic jam. There’s been a wreck. We’re going to be sitting here a while.

“How long’s a while?”

“At least an hour. Both lanes are blocked. There’s zero movement. Metro traffic says they’ve got to clear a semi, but it’s on the bridge.”

“Fuck!”

“Sorry.”

I want that sketch. But I’m stuck here, fuming.

Jill’s staring at me, and all I can think is if I hadn’t put up with her bullshit I might have been able to avoid this Central Park disaster. I reach over and give her face a hard slap.

And now her gorgeous legs are the last thing on my mind.

17.

I’M FURIOUS WITH her. But every time Jack looks away, Jill gives me a look that’s hard to ignore.

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s coming on to me.

But I
do
know better. She can’t possibly be interested in me. I killed Frank Sturgiss, slapped the shit out of her, and refused to save the prisoners in the basement of her house in La Pierre.

Nevertheless, she says, “Can I talk to you in private?”

Jack spins his head around and starts hissing fit to bust.

“What do you have in mind?”

Jill says, “Can Joe and the driver go for a short walk?”

“What about Jack?”

“I’d like him to stay for the first part.”

I tell Joe and the driver to walk a short distance, but keep the car in sight. When they leave, Jill says, “I wasn’t sure about you at first. But now I am.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighs. “This is a little embarrassing for me, but my life has been going at warp speed, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen when we get to New Orleans. What I’m trying to say, I’m into you.”

Jack’s eyes grow wide. He thrashes about, trying to break free from his bonds. He’s furious, hissing louder than Elvis fans at a gay parade.

“Oh, shut up, Jack!” she says. “Do you have any idea how annoying that is?”

She looks at me. “Can you cut me loose?”

I cut her zip ties with my pocket knife. She rubs her wrists and says, “I appreciate what you did to help Jack. He’s had a rough time.”

Hearing this, Jack quiets down. Jill says, “He lost his voice, his dream house, his money…and judging from the blood on his clothes, he’s going to need serious medical care for those hog bites.”

I’m not sure where she’s going with all this talk about Jack, so I just say, “You’re welcome.”

She says, “I don’t want you to blow up Bobby’s house. Can you just kill him?”

“What about his goons?”

“That would be a bonus, if you can do it without killing the prisoners. But if not, the goons will clear out when Bobby’s dead. And I’ll inherit the house.”

Jack seems to like what he’s hearing. He nods his head enthusiastically.

I say, “You could live in that house? After what happened in the basement?”

“No, of course not! But I’d like to sell it.”

“That’s taking a practical view.”

She stares at Jack a minute, then turns to me and says, “Jack and I were never a couple.”

He starts hissing again, violently.

Jill shakes her head. “I feel like we’re ride-sharing with a Komodo Dragon.” She pauses a minute. “Where was I?”

“You and Jack were never a couple.”

Jack starts kicking his feet. I say, “Apparently he disagrees.”

“I’ve been with exactly two men in my entire life,” she says.

“I find that quite hard to believe.”

“I can understand why you feel that way. But it’s true.”

“I assume Bobby’s one of them?”

She nods.

“And Jack?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I barely know him.”

Jack sputters and makes loud, almost maniacal sounds of protest. He searches desperately for his pencil and paper, finds them, and starts writing as furiously as any man with bound wrists could possibly write. Jill grabs his pencil and breaks it in half. Then throws it through the open partition, into the front seat.

“Enough!” she says. “We saved your life, Jack. Be grateful.” She turns to me and says, “I’ll cooperate with your sketch artist the minute we get to the hotel. And I’ll trust you to keep your promise about killing Bobby whenever it works best for your schedule.”

“In return for?”

“Protecting me until you kill him.”

“And?”

“A new identity and top-quality medical treatment for Jack.”

“And?”

“Our time is limited, so I’m just going to toss something out there.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m a looner.”

“Which means what, exactly?”

“I have a sexual fetish for balloon play.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I like the sound of it. Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re welcome. The other thing is I’m insanely attracted to dangerous, powerful men. By attracted, I mean sexually attracted. Frank told me you’re the most dangerous man in the world. It wasn’t necessary that you have movie star good looks, but it sure as hell doesn’t hurt. What I’m trying to say, I want—
need
—you to make love to me.”

Jack starts thrashing about, hissing at the highest decibel possible. It’s more of a whirring sound, almost like a jet engine. Jill’s right, it’s annoying as hell.

“Will you do it?” She says. “Will you make love to me?”

“I’m involved with someone.”

“So I heard. Callie. But here’s the thing: she’ll never have to know.”

Before I have a chance to tell her it’s totally out of the question, she licks her lips and says, “Donovan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sopping wet for you.”

I look at Jack. “Time for you to go, partner.”

I pull him toward me, open the door, push him out, and motion for Joe to come and get him. Then I close the door and say, “Where were we?”

“We were talking about sex.”

“Right. What about it?”

“I want it.”

“Right. But I’m with Callie.”

“You love her?”

“Absolutely.”

“Enough to marry her?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have your last fling?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re planning to be with the same woman for the rest of your life. In your case that’s what, forty years?”

“Not the way I live.”

“Well, however much time you’ve got, you should have the memory of a last fling.”

“I already had a last fling.”

“Let me define what I mean. A last fling is not necessarily the last person you slept with.”

“It’s not?”

“No. It only counts as a last fling if you know in advance she’s the last person you’ll ever sleep with besides your future wife.”

“You’re confusing me.”

“I’ll make it simple. The last woman you slept with. What’s her name?”

“The last one I slept with or the last one I cared about?”

“The last one you slept with.”

I think a minute. “That was more of a one-night stand.”

“Had you already committed to Callie?”

“No.”

“That’s what I mean: You never fucked a woman knowing she’d be the last except for Callie. But I’d be honored to be your last fling, Donovan. I’d be honored to be the one you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

“You make a helluva case, Jill. But the thing is, I love Callie.”

“More than you love the United States?”

“What do you mean?”

“If it meant saving the country, would you make love to me?”

“That’s a strange angle to take.”

“I can help you catch Decker.”

“How?”

“Let’s not get side-tracked. Let’s just say I can deliver Decker. How badly do you want him?”

“Very.”

“What if you could keep the woman you love, have your last fling with me, and save the country from a series of terrorist attacks?”

“I have to admit, it sounds awfully innocent when you put it that way.”

“I can deliver Decker. That makes it your patriotic duty to make love to me.”

“You should sell insurance. Or used cars.”

“Why?”

“Never mind. What makes you so sure you can get Decker?”

“He asked me to travel with him. I turned him down, but he said to call him if I ever change my mind. If I call him maybe you can do that triangulation thing with his cell phone, and track him down. Or be waiting nearby when he comes to fetch me.”

“I thought you barely knew the guy.”

“I barely do. I met him just before the explosion. Afterward, he gave me a ride to Memphis.”

“That’s it?”

She nods.

Throughout the day I’ve been piecing together information on Jill, Jack, Bobby, and Decker. This seems like a good time to summarize. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. Your husband, the mob boss, hated losing you so much he hired Decker, the terrorist, to blow up a house in order to kill you.”

“That’s right.”

“Before that, he hired Jack, the bounty hunter, to find you and bring you back.”

She nods.

“Jack found you in Kentucky, kidnapped you, and fell hopelessly in love with you during the ride to Louisiana.”

She shrugs.

“Jack gave you his money, his house, and asked you to marry him.”

“Yup.”

“Hours after meeting you.”

She nods.

“Darryl Rhodes tried to sexually molest you, and Decker shot him. A few hours later, Decker tried to blow you up.”

“That’s right.”

“You escaped, he gave you a ride to Memphis, and fell in love with you on the two-hour drive.”

“It was ninety minutes.”

“I stand corrected. Decker fell in love with you in the space of ninety minutes and asked you to share his life.”

“I never said Decker was in love with me. But yes, he asked me to share his life.”

“You must be one helluva woman.”

She wriggles out of her skin-tight pants and says, “I’ll let
you
decide if I am.”