Lucky (86 page)

The bookstore was busy, business was brisk. Eyes watchful, she looked around for the diet book section. A fat woman in white polyester pants perused Jane Fonda’s exercise book, but apart from her the area was quiet.

Lucky consulted her watch. Two minutes to four o’clock.

The fat woman put the Fonda book down and ambled off.

Lucky looked at her watch again. One minute to go.

She wondered where Boogie was, but it didn’t worry her when she couldn’t see him. Boogie blended into a crowd and vanished.

Four o’clock exactly.

Carefully she placed the leather bag in a corner and left the store by the other entrance. Once outside her immediate instinct was to go back in and grab the person who made the collection. But she couldn’t do that. She had to wait. See if the children were returned. Just wait.

Boogie would take care of that end of it. There was a hidden tracking device in with the money. It wouldn’t get far without Boogie.

*   *   *

Santino elected Blackie to make the pick-up, while he waited in the car with Roberto and Brigette and his other two henchmen. They parked on the street outside K-Mart, a block away. Blackie was large and lantern-jawed with lank hair and a permanent scowl.

‘Don’tcha take long gettin’ back here,’ Santino commanded. He leaned over and patted Brigette on the thigh.

She shrank away from him.

‘Teenager an’ I can’t wait to get it on,’ Santino leered. ‘That right, chicken? That right?’

‘Slow down,’ Paige said. ‘You’re going to kill us, then you’ll be no use to anyone.’

‘You wanna drive?’

‘Frankly, yes.’

Gino swerved her Porsche into the side of the road, and they changed places. She buckled her seat belt and instructed him to do the same. He did so reluctantly – taking chances had always been more his style.

Expertly she steered the car back into the flow of traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway. They still had a good two-hour drive to go before hitting L.A.

‘I never felt so helpless in my life,’ Gino groaned. ‘When I get my hands on the motherfucker who’s responsible he’ll wish he never lived.’

‘Don’t talk,’ Paige responded, driving even faster than Gino, but less erratically. ‘Save your energies. Lucky must be frantic, she’ll need you when we get there.’

‘I should’ve been with her,’ Gino lamented. ‘Jeez! Who would do a thing like this? Who would
dare?’

*   *   *

Lennie wanted to call the police.

‘You can’t do that,’ Alice said, with a firmness unlike her usual self. ‘Lucky says everything is under control.’

‘Under
whose
control?’ he shouted angrily. ‘And why hasn’t anyone reached Olympia?’

‘We’ve tried,’ Alice said, ‘and she’s unreachable.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ he exploded. ‘Brigette
is
her daughter. She should be here. Or at least know what’s going on.’

‘I keep on trying.’

‘Where’s Lucky now?’

Costa entered the room. ‘I just heard from her. The money has been dropped off. Boogie’s tailing it. All we can do now is wait and see if the children turn up.’

‘Well I can’t sit around waiting’, Lennie yelled. ‘Where is she? Give me the phone number of the car.’

Reluctantly Costa did so. ‘She won’t like being bothered,’ he warned. ‘She wants the line kept clear.’

‘I don’t give a fuck
what
she wants,’ Lennie shouted. ‘I’m involved. Too bad if she doesn’t like it.’

*   *   *

Donatella Bonnatti stared at Steven. ‘Eh – Mister Berkeley. You coma see my husband. He no here. So now you go, huh?’

Steven studied her carefully. She was agitated and impatient. Whoever was on the phone had upset her. His hunch told him it wasn’t Bonnatti, but it was something to do with Bonnatti.

Donatella stalked to the door. The buttons of her house-dress strained, revealing a large bosom and sensible underwear. ‘You leava now. I have to go out.’

Steven nodded. ‘I’ll be back to see Santino.’

She was distracted, dying to get rid of him. The pornographic magazine and Santino’s involvement didn’t seem to matter to her anymore. Something else was on her mind.

‘You do whata you wanta do. Okay. Okay.’

She hustled him out of the front door and slammed it firmly.

He sat behind the wheel of his rented car, drove down the driveway to the street, parked and waited. Fifteen minutes later the Toyota appeared, Donatella at the wheel.

She set off toward Hollywood.

Steven followed.

Eden paced the house restlessly. She attempted to put makeup on her face, but her image was distorted by the marks of Santino’s vile fists. Not forever. Thank God. Bruises and black eyes healed. A week, two weeks, and she would be back to normal.

Zeko sat out by the pool facing the house, tossing nuts into his ugly open mouth. He was a cretin. She hated him almost as much as she hated Santino. They were both pigs who thought all women were less than human.

She stared at the kitchen clock. It was past four. Tim was waiting for her, and there was no way she could show up.

Screw Bonnatti. She would get away from him eventually – one way or the other.

Outside in the driveway she heard a car pull up. Hopefully she ran to the front window and peered out, only to see Santino emerge. He was accompanied by the two goons he always travelled with, and there was a young teenage blonde and a little boy with them.

Was he bringing his children to see her? She could not believe even Santino would stoop that low.

Quickly she rushed into her bedroom and closed the door. It was cool in there, with just the slight hum of air-conditioning to keep her company.

She heard people enter. There was no way she was coming out to meet them. He couldn’t make her. What could he do? Kill her?

*   *   *

‘C’mon, chicken,’ Santino leered, pulling Brigette inside the house.

Her heart was beating so fast she could almost hear it. Alice had told her stories about girls who disappeared from home. ‘White slavers,’ Alice had clucked knowingly, ‘sit next to unsuspecting girls in movie theatres and stick needles in their arms. Then they spirit them away to God knows where.’

Brigette had laughed at Alice when she told her lurid tales like that. She had sneered at Lucky when she spoke of possible kidnappers. But now that she realized the seriousness of her situation, she knew how right they both were with their warnings and admonishments.

She wondered what was going on up at the house in Bel Air. Was Lucky there? Olympia? Gino? Lennie? Had they called the police? Were they searching for her and Roberto?

She felt like a little girl again, lost and lonely. And yet she had to be strong for Roberto. He trusted her. He clutched her hand as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did.

She spoke up bravely. ‘You’ve got the money,’ she said, desperately trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. ‘Now you’re supposed to let us go like Tim promised.’

Santino cackled. ‘Tim. Who’s Tim?’ He threw a glance at one of his hoods. ‘Any of ya guys know who Tim is?’

‘Never heard of him, boss,’ said Blackie.

‘Naw, don’t know,’ agreed the other yes-man.

‘C’mon, chicken,’ Santino urged, pulling Brigette toward the bedroom. ‘Bring the boy too. He can watch – get an early education.’ He roared at his own humour. ‘The three of us gonna make a pretty picture – a pretty picture ta send t’his mommy.’

He kicked open the bedroom door.

Eden faced him.

‘Out, cunt,’ he ordered.

‘W . . . w . . . what’s going on?’ she stammered.

‘Wait outside an’ don’t disturb me. Ya unnerstand English?’

Brigette looked at her pleadingly, relieved to see another female. ‘This man has kidnapped us,’ she began to say. ‘He’s—’

The back of his hand caught her across the cheek.

Roberto screamed.

Eden backed from the room as he hit the boy too. She couldn’t help them. She couldn’t even help herself.

The die was cast. Whatever happened now was out of her hands.

A phone call from The Guardian summoned Lucky to an apartment house off Hollywood Boulevard. Tim Wealth’s apartment.

Caveman accompanied her from the car. Contrary to his nickname he wore a sports jacket and neatly pressed pants – he looked like a college graduate, but she knew he carried a solid piece, and hoped he was reliable in times of trouble.

They walked up the outside staircase dodging homecoming school students, and an irrascible old drunk blocking everyone’s way.

The Guardian let them in. He had edgy grey eyes that scanned the landscape.

Lucky entered the small apartment and stood stock still. A body was slumped on the floor. A body which not only had been roughed up, but shot in the head.

‘Tim Wealth,’ The Guardian said tersely. ‘I got here before he left us.’

Lucky held her breath. ‘And?’

‘We got more grief,’ The Guardian offered grimly. ‘Have you ever heard of a man named Santino Bonnatti?’

Her heart stopped. ‘Bonnatti?’ she whispered.

The Guardian nodded. ‘Santino has the children.’

Blue Jay Way was a quiet winding street high in the hills above Hollywood. There was not much passing traffic, just the occasional resident running an errand.

Boogie, in the back of the surveillance truck, figured it was the perfect hideaway to keep Roberto and Brigette. He was sure they had hit pay dirt when the Mercedes they were following slowed down. He was more than sure when he observed three men get out of the car, and with them were the children. One of the men looked vaguely familiar – but he couldn’t put a name to the face.

For a moment he had to decide whether to take them there and then. But the odds were stacked against him. Three guys – probably carrying – and anxious to hang on to a million buckeroos. There would be crossfire. Someone could get hurt, and there was no way he planned to risk endangering Roberto or Brigette. Besides, Lucky would never want them involved in any kind of shoot out.

He waited until they were all in the house, then he tried to contact Lucky on the car phone. Her driver took the call and told him to wait.

Minutes ticked by slowly. He was patient, thoughtful. The decision was ultimately hers.

When she came on the line he could hear the icy anger in her voice. ‘Where are you?’ she asked urgently.

He gave her the address and the news.

She relayed the information to her driver and told him to get there fast. Then she said as calmly as she could manage, ‘Was one of the men Santino Bonnatti?’

With dull realization he knew the familiar face was indeed Bonnatti, and the implications became clear.

‘How do you want to proceed?’ he asked. ‘Maybe now we should bring the police in.’

‘It’ll take too much time,’ she replied, mind racing. ‘Caveman and The Guardian are with me. And you have Dave. We’re going to deal with it ourselves – it’s the only way.’

‘I don’t know who else is in the house,’ Boogie said. He had learned a long time ago never to argue with Lucky Santangelo.

‘Find out what you can,’ she replied tensely. ‘We’re on our way.’

Boogie left the van and went to the front to alert Dave. ‘She wants to go with it,’ he said. ‘Her kid’s in there. Are you with us?’

Dave nodded, and patted the concealed .38 he kept strapped to his waist.

‘She’ll be more than generous,’ Boogie promised.

‘The money doesn’t matter’, Dave said. ‘I don’t like people who fuck around with children. They need a lesson.’

‘Amen,’ said Boogie. ‘I’m gonna check out the action.’

The two years he had spent in the jungles of Vietnam made him light on his feet and a mover of stealth and lightning. He vanished into the deep undergrowth around the side and made his way up a hilly incline of bushes and scrub.

Before long he had a perfect downward view of the house.

*   *   *

Lennie sat in his study and kept on trying the number Costa had given him for the car.

It was continually busy.

He swore to himself and thought of how Lucky must be feeling. She needed him. And if only he could get through to her and find out where she was, he would be there. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Alice came into the room and placed a cup of coffee on the desk. It was the single most thoughtful thing she had ever done for him, but who could sit around drinking coffee at a time like this?

Bingo! Finally he was connecting. The line rang, and a man answered.