Gridlock: A Ryan Lock Novel (13 page)

After air-kissing Raven and nodding curtly to Lock, Dimitri motioned for them both to take a seat across from him. Beside his computer he had one of those executive stress-relief contraptions with balls that clacked back and forth. Lock wondered if it was some kind of post-modern attempt at humour but didn’t ask.

‘I’ll cut to the chase, Raven,’ Dimitri said. ‘I want you to come back and work for us.’

Raven’s answer was swift but delivered with a smile. ‘For ten thousand bucks a month? Forget it. There are more pleasurable ways of getting screwed.’

Dimitri opened a desk drawer and Lock tensed.

‘Relax. I’m pulling out a deal memorandum,’ Dimitri said, looking up at him.

He conjured a single piece of paper from the drawer and slid it towards Raven. ‘Think about it. With this kind of money you can forget the club appearances and all the other bullshit. We handle everything for you. All you have to do is one movie a month, some promotional work, and stay in shape. Beyond that, your life’s your own. You’d be back in the fold. And we wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. I guarantee it.’

Lock’s focus shifted to Raven. He studied her face, looking to see if it would betray a reaction. The fact that it didn’t confirmed, in his mind, that she was having thoughts similar to his own. That maybe there was no serial stalker beating a bloody path to her door. Maybe it was a classic piece of extortion.

While Carrie had been looking into Mr Vice, she’d found something else she had passed on to Lock earlier that morning. Something that had taken on a new meaning in the past few seconds. The last company Cindy Canyon had worked for was Vixen Entertainment. They’d been building her as the successor to Raven Lane.

As sure as night followed day, Dimitri was a front man, the acceptable face for much of the money that was coming into his industry. And the money behind porn was usually linked to crime. The distributors might be upstanding hotel chains and blue-chip tech companies, but the money behind the product would be something else. There was no way that organized crime wouldn’t be involved with a morally dubious business that generated more money than Hollywood at a fraction of the cost and therefore with a much higher profit margin. You didn’t need to be a forensic accountant to work out that much.

If Vixen Entertainment and its backers wanted their cash cow to return to the fold, scaring her would be one way of doing it, although even Lock’s natural paranoia didn’t allow him to believe that they would start killing people to achieve that goal. More likely they were using a situation that was already in play as leverage. Cindy was going to be their new star until she’d been murdered. So Vixen needed to go back to its old star, using the protection it could offer as the carrot.

Raven studied the piece of paper. Lock was hoping she’d say she would think about it, and they could leave. But Raven was not a woman to take the path of least resistance.

‘Never go back. Wasn’t that what you told me when you terminated my contract, Dimitri?’ she asked now, her violet eyes blazing with fury.

Dimitri placed his hands palm down on the table. ‘Circumstances change. You have a lot of heat around you, with everything that’s going on. Why not cash in?’ He took a breath, then lowered his voice. ‘Raven, you’ve got maybe five years left. This stalker situation is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We can all make out if we play this right.’

Raven stood up abruptly. ‘That’s what this whole deal is to you? A marketing opportunity? Or are you thinking of how much you’ll get for my movies if this guy kills me?’

As she spoke, Lock kept his eyes on Dimitri. He was affecting a look of detached amusement. He stayed sitting but raised his hands, palms out. ‘Okay, okay, I was asked to put the offer to you. You don’t have to go postal on me. It’s a good deal, Raven. A great deal, in fact. But it won’t be on the table for ever. You and I both know that.’

Lock got up, ready to end the exchange. ‘It was nice meeting you.’ He nodded towards the door. ‘You have to be somewhere,’ he reminded Raven.

Lock fell into step behind her as she stalked out of the room and down the corridor. In the reception area, Raven gave Cherry a goodbye hug, which was when he noticed the poster behind her desk, separate from the ones lining the walls of the corridor. It showed Raven Lane. Next to her was Cindy Canyon. They had their arms wrapped around each other, and they were staring into each other’s eyes, lips not quite touching.

Lock kept walking. This was the Cindy Canyon whose head had ended up in a newspaper vending machine and whose body had been pulled from the trunk of Raven’s BMW; the Cindy Canyon whom Raven didn’t know. For two people who didn’t know each other, they looked pretty close.

Lock had a decision to make. Either he could ask Raven why she had lied or he could keep his mouth shut. In the parking lot, Raven’s cell phone beeped. She took it from her bag and read the text. ‘They confirmed. The plane will be ready for us at Van Nuys at four o’clock.’ She looked at him. ‘Are you okay? You seem kind of quiet.’

‘Just thinking about something.’

‘Want to share?’

‘Not right now,’ he said, holding open the door of the Range Rover. They had a long day together. There would be plenty of time to try to work out which parts of Raven’s story held up – and which didn’t.

24

‘Cool car,’ Kevin said, rocking back and forth in the passenger seat of Ty’s purple 1966 Lincoln Continental, his sulk about Wendy seemingly forgotten.

‘Thanks, brother. Now, you got everything you need?’

‘I think so.’

‘Lunch?’

‘In my backpack.’

‘Okay, then, we’re good to go, I guess. You ready?’

‘Ready.’

Ty flattened the accelerator and they took off with a roar, leaving behind a belch of exhaust fumes sufficient to give Al Gore an aneurysm. Halfway up the street, a soccer mom had to jostle her MPV almost on to the sidewalk as Ty laid waste to any sense of careful driving in a semi-suburban neighbourhood.

‘You drive faster than my sister,’ Kevin observed, a grin plastered over his face as Ty continued to carve a swathe through the traffic.

‘She drive fast?’

‘Oh, yeah. Not as fast as this, though.’

Kevin stared out of the passenger window, eyes focused in the middle distance, his tongue pushing out from his mouth a little. ‘Raven’s not her real name. She made it up.’

Ty moved back down the gears as they came to the stop light on Wilshire Boulevard, the engine reduced to a low series of grumbles. ‘You mind that?’

‘No, it’s kinda cool.’

The stop light shifted to green and Ty took off again, tumbling down a hill towards the freeway on-ramp. ‘So what was her real name? If you don’t mind me asking.’

‘Well,’ Kevin said, straightening up in his seat. ‘Our name is Lane, but my sister’s real name is Sarah.’

Ty mulled it over. It kind of made him wonder about the real deal of how Kevin and Raven were brought up. Crazy families usually went in for crazy names, and ‘Sarah’ was about as strait-laced as they came. ‘Sarah’s cute. Hey, you know Superman’s girlfriend was Lois Lane. Is that why you like him so much?’

‘No,’ Kevin said, resting his head against the cool of the glass. ‘I like Superman because he kicks ass.’

Ten minutes later, Ty stopped the Continental up outside the day centre. It was a Spanish bungalow-style white concrete building with red tiles, neatly trimmed grass out front, everything spick and span. A yellow school bus pulled up outside, disgorging its cargo of young adults.

Ty thought back to high school, when he and his buddies might have been standing on the sidewalk, making jokes about the Short Bus or the Goof Troop. But here and now, with Kevin next to him, those jokes didn’t seem so much funny as pathetic. Maybe, he thought, kids used that kind of humour about people like Kevin to distance themselves because the reality was too uncomfortable. Or maybe he and his buddies had just been assholes when they’d cracked those jokes.

After a couple of beers, Lock had once told Ty about his approach to such stuff and it had stayed with him: ‘If you’d feel like a complete asshole saying something to someone’s face, then don’t say it behind their back.’ Lock the philosopher, thought Ty, smiling.

The bus pulled away and a number of the teenagers were pointing at Ty’s car. Most, but not all, had Down’s syndrome. Kevin waved at them, enjoying the attention. Then Ty noticed his brow furrow and he looked away.

Wendy’s mother was escorting her daughter into the building. Ty rested a huge hand on Kevin’s shoulder. ‘You okay, brother?’

Kevin gave a weak nod.

‘Listen, remember what I told you. It’ll work out. There’s no guy a girl likes better than the one her parents don’t want her seeing. Take it from me.’

Ty started to escort Kevin across the road, but their path was blocked by a convoy of three more school buses, this time carrying what seemed to be high-school kids. It was only then that Ty noticed the building less than a half-block away from the adult learning centre where he was dropping Kevin. His car was drawing attention from the high-school students too, but a couple of skater kids sporting shaggy hair on the last bus were more focused on Kevin’s friends on the other side of the road. One of the skaters jutted his jaw out, letting his face go slack, aping the expression of someone with Down’s. His buddy cracked up. The group waiting to go into the learning centre looked away.

Ty made a mental note of the two skater kids, then walked Kevin across the street and inside the building. When he came back out, some of the high-school kids were still milling about, grabbing the last few minutes before they had to be inside.

Ty walked down the road towards the high school. The two skater kids he’d made a note of earlier were still outside, passing around a joint. The slightly taller one waved the joint in Ty’s direction as he closed in on them. ‘It’s okay, man, we’re good.’

Black guy outside a high school has to be a drug-dealer in their world, thought Ty. He let his jacket, which he’d weighted with coins earlier so that it wouldn’t ride up and reveal his gun, slip to one side.

The kid’s expression shifted in less time than it took Ty to pluck the joint from his hand and crush it under his boot. He stared at them.

‘It’s only a little weed, man,’ the smaller one offered.

Ty kept staring, enjoying their discomfort. He nodded down the street. ‘You think the people over there don’t have enough bullshit to deal with without assholes like you making fun of them?’

Their teenage bravado evaporated.

‘Answer me,’ Ty said.

‘No,’ said the taller of the two.

‘What about you?’ Ty said, addressing the shorter one, who seemed busy willing the ground to open up and swallow him.

‘They probably didn’t even see us.’

Ty took a step forward. ‘Say what, asshole?’

The kid remained silent, his face flushing.

‘And look at me when I’m talking to you, bitch,’ Ty continued.

The other kids had melted away.

‘No.’ The kid’s voice was starting to fracture as he fought off tears. ‘I’m sorry. We won’t do it again.’

‘Damn straight,’ said Ty, and walked back towards the Continental.

25

Dodging the airport’s main terminal building, Lock drove the black Range Rover towards a gatehouse-controlled side entrance where a guard checked his and Raven’s ID before directing them to a nearby aircraft hangar.

A dozen jets were parked on the apron, mostly Gulfstreams and Cessnas. The cheapest one probably cost more than five million dollars, Lock guessed. If the world economy was in difficulty, clearly no one had told the people who owned or rented them.

Lock knew from prior experience that security at private airports was generally more relaxed than at the ones that serviced the general public. Most people would never have cause to come near a facility like this. Raven’s stalker wasn’t most people, though, so he kept a close eye on everything around them as they got out of the vehicle.

The jet to take them to Vegas, a Gulfstream G250, was waiting for them, stairs down, fueled, crewed and good to go. Raven led the way, clearly familiar with the drill. Two female cabin crew greeted them at the top of the stairs. Their overnight bags were spirited away to a front storage area as they walked into the main cabin. Plush cream carpet swallowed them ankle deep as they made their way past a sparkling stainless-steel forward galley and a black-marble-topped bar towards the creamy-soft leather seats. At the back, Lock could see a bathroom, complete with shower, the size of ten cramped conventional aircraft restrooms, the interior walls covered with soft leather.

The luxurious surroundings lent a soporific quality to the atmosphere, as if you were stepping out of the conscious world and into a dreamscape where nothing bad could possibly happen.

Lock took a seat facing the front while Raven sat opposite him. One of the smartly dressed female cabin attendants asked if they wanted anything. Lock asked for water.

‘Vodka tonic. Ice, no lemon,’ Raven said, stretching out her long, jeans-clad legs.

The flight attendant disappeared into the galley with her colleague as Lock took another look around. ‘Guess this beats Economy,’ he said. He dug into his pocket for his cell phone and started to pass it over. ‘Thought you might want to call your brother before we take off.’

Raven smiled and opened a console next to her. She pulled out a telephone handset. ‘I was going to wait until we were up.’

It was the first smile he’d seen from her in a while. Her full lips parted to reveal perfect white teeth and her eyes sparkled with life.

‘Not your first time on one of these,’ he said.

‘Like I explained, it’s an ongoing relationship. Although,’ she said, looking round, ‘this plane is a new one.’

The flight attendant returned with their drinks, both of which were served in crystal glasses. Raven took a sip of vodka and closed her eyes. ‘I’m amazed Kevin still wants to stay in the house after the other night.’

‘Kids are resilient,’ was all Lock could offer. He was amazed that Raven had left him. After all her protestations about not wanting to leave town, here she was on a private jet headed for Vegas. It just didn’t synch.