Trifecta (18 page)

"That's okay.  I can always replace what I need."

"Jay bought a plane ticket from San Francisco to Boston
in your name.  The good news is, I think we're safe.  For the moment, anyway.  As
soon as I finish, I'll make sure the cabin is secure."

"What cabin?"

"My friend who owns the house in Beverly Hills.  His
cabin."

"Oh." Julia said.  She knew it was impossible
to go back to Los Angeles now.  She was wondering about the beneficent friend, but
decided to try to be a little more circuitous in her search for information.

"How did you learn to be a mechanic, Robin?  Did you
go to a trade school or something?"

"No.  My father always had old cars.  He let me work
on them."  Each vehicle was worth hundreds of thousands, but Robin did not
mention that small fact.

"You didn't go to a mechanic school?"

Robin shook his head.  "I did go to high school." 
And college and law school, but he didn't tell her that.  He knew he was deceiving
her, but now that they would have some time alone together he wanted to keep up
the charade.  "I'm a damn good mechanic.  That motorcycle outside was sounding
a little rough."

"Really?"

"Pistons need work.  And you know, it's much more
strenuous and tiring riding on the back of a Harley than driving one.  I'll teach
you how, if you like."

"Okay," Julia said, thinking it might be fun.

Robin grinned at her.  "First we have to get you some
warm clothes, and boots."  He had finished his hamburger, reached in his pocket
and came out with some cash.  "I don't want you to use your credit cards. 
They might be checking credit card sales, if they're using the police to track us. 
I want them to believe you left San Francisco this afternoon, for Boston."

Julia reluctantly took the money.

"You go shopping while I check out the cabin,"
Robin said as he got up.

"What about you, Robin?" Julia asked, as she
watched him preparing to leave.

"I just took my good friend, Julia, to San Francisco. 
She returned what was missing.  They can't do anything overt to me."

"They'll murder you.  Just for revenge," Julia
said, angry that he was making light of the situation.  "You know they will. 
You have to stay here with me until this whole thing is over with."

"Don't worry about it."

"Wait a minute," Julia said, really losing her
temper, but trying to keep her voice down.  "They murdered my own brother because
of the information we now possess.  Do you think they're just going to let it go
because Quijada has his precious books and videos back?  Are you planning to plant
me in a cabin here, and then leave?"

"I'll have to go back pretty soon," Robin said,
trying to sound reasonable.  "I have work to do.  But lets talk about it later. 
I won't leave until I'm sure you're safe.  I promise."

"Gee, thanks.  Then all I have to worry about is you. 
And you take absolutely insane chances with your own life."

Robin leaned forward on the table.  "What are you
talking about?"

"You took drugs just last night.  Or are you forgetting
the little overdose?"  Julia was whispering.  "That could have killed
you.  I should have fired you, right then.  Left you under the boardwalk to rot."

"Then you wouldn't have the damn books and videos,"
Robin said smiling at her.  It wasn't a nice smile.  "Or if you did, they would
have killed you by now."

Julia took a deep breath.  "Listen, I got you into
this mess.  It's my fault.  And I have to admit my plan was a little rash.  But
neither of us expected Quijada would have police informers, and come back unexpectedly. 
Now I have to accept responsibility.  You're in a dangerous position and you can't
go back to Los Angeles.  I'm scared you're going to get hurt or killed."

When Robin looked at Julia he could see she wasn't angry
any more.  He looked closely and thought she had tears in her eyes.  "I do
believe you like me."

"Of course, I am very concerned for you," Julia
said with composure.  "You must admit, after last night, I have a right to
be.  We've both done some reckless things."

"And we're both tired, now," Robin said, sighing. 
"We'll talk about it when we're settled at the cabin."

That was another thing.  She was staying at some rustic
cabin, alone with Robin, evidently.  "Maybe it would be better if I stayed
at a hotel."

"Unless you have a lot of cash with you, it's going
to be expensive.  Anyway, whatever, I'm staying at the cabin.  I wish you would
trust me."

Julia looked down.  "I do trust you Robin.  And I
want to thank you for everything.  It's really been above and beyond..."

"Save it," he interrupted.  "Go shopping. 
We'll warm up in the cabin and decide what to do."

"I hate shopping."

Robin finally looked exasperated.  "Will you just
go get some warm clothes?"

Julia nodded.  She watched through the window as he kicked
the starter pedal on the bike and took off.  Then she got up and went outside. 
It was mid-afternoon and cold.  She could see her breath in the air as she walked
quickly into the first women's apparel store she found.  Then she found a wonderful
camera shop and couldn't resist buying some things.  Without a few cameras she felt
naked.  This town was gorgeous and she wanted to take pictures.  She spent all the
money Robin had given her, along with most of her own cash.

Robin found her window shopping in antique shops and smiled
in appreciation.  She looked like a little snow angel in a fitted ski suit, parka
and boots.

Julia got back on the bike and Robin took her out of town,
toward the lake.  Then he stopped on a deserted logging road and took off his goggles. 
"You need to put the leather jacket on again, Julia." 

"I'm fine.  The parka is warm."

"Don't you want to learn to drive a Harley?"
Robin asked, handing her the goggles.

"Oh.  Now's the time?"

Robin nodded.

Julia was still protesting that she really was comfortable
with the parka, so Robin explained that the leather would protect her if she fell
off.

"I'm going to solo?  On my first lesson?"

"I'll ride with you for a while, but yes, I want you
to be able to drive it by yourself."

This was their only means of transportation for the next
couple of days, and if anything happened to him, Robin wanted her to be able to
get away.  When Quijada learned that Julia was not in Boston, he would start searching
for her.  Robin thought he might be suspicious enough to check out places he owned. 
He wished he'd had time to get to a cash machine before they left Los Angeles, so
they could have the option to stay at a hotel if they needed to.  But most hotels
wanted credit card identification and a drivers license, even if they did take cash. 
Hotel workers could be bribed to give up that kind of information.  It was safer
to keep Julia at his cabin. 

Robin's dad had several places around the state where they
could have stayed also, in Carmel, Palm Springs and San Francisco, but he didn't
want his father involved.  There was a  chance that Quijada would bring charges
against Julia for theft.  If that happened he didn't want his father to be in the
position of harboring a fugitive.

Snuggled against Robin, Julia felt wonderfully safe as
she learned how to work the Harley's controls.  It was a easy for her to grasp the
fact that the faster she went, the more control she actually had, because the bike
was too heavy for her to use a leg to steady it when it wobbled too far over when
she was moving slowly.  If she actually fell it would crush her, so Robin taught
Julia how to bail off, if she was sure the big machine was going to tip over.

Julia ended her solo with a gigantic smile.  "This
is so much fun!  I want to go really fast."

"Next you'll be wearing black leather, sporting chains
and whips," Robin said, grinning.

"You forgot the tattoos," Julia said.  "I'll
need at least one to prove I'm a real bike moll.  And I want some pictures."

She took out her new cameras, loaded the film and taught
Robin how to frame and find the correct focus.  Then Julia posed, taking off the
helmet and tousling her hair so it would look messed up in the wind.  She had been
on many fashion photography shoots and she burlesqued the typical actions of the
models.  She had Robin in hysterics as she tried out dashing and risque postures
astride the bike.  Then she used the camera's timer and they both posed.  He was
surprised when she mugged for the camera, put her arms around him and kissed him
on the cheek.

"I'll want a copy of that one," Robin said.

By that time it was getting chilly.  The sun was going
down.  Julia wanted to ride the Harley some more, but Robin shook his head.  He
was convinced she had mastered the controls.  She was too tired for a really thorough
testing of her expertise, so he ended the lesson and drove her to the cabin.

"I
t's beautiful."  Julia got off the
bike and stared at the cabin for a moment.  "Impressive."

"There's a boat dock in front," Robin replied. 
"We can take the boat out tomorrow, if it isn't too cold."

The small rustic cabin Julia had envisioned turned out
to be a gorgeous two story A-frame overlooking the lake.  The exterior was composed
of glass, wood, and rough hewn rocks which seemed to meld into the natural setting. 
The entrance was actually at the back of the structure, its front facing the lake.

"It's absolutely gorgeous," Julia said, as she
stepped in and gazed around.  Floor to ceiling windows in the front room displayed
the beautiful calm lake in a winter landscape.  The place was decorated in monochromatic
blues, greens and grays that picked up the colors from the lake outside, which was
now lit as if burnished with the beaten gold of the setting sun.  "What does
your friend do, that he can afford something like this?"

"He's a lawyer," Robin said.  "Why don't
you look around upstairs.  Put your things in the bedroom with the fireplace.  It
has the best view.  I have to make some calls and see what's happening in Los Angeles."

By the time Julia came back, Robin had unpacked the motorcycle
and set up a laptop computer.  He was sitting in front of the fire he had lit in
the fireplace, gazing at the ledger books she had taken from Quijada's safe.

"You can read Spanish?"

Robin looked up and nodded.  He had put on reading glasses
and appeared studious; sort of like Superman in his Clark Kent guise. 

"What's in them?" Julia asked.

"I'm not sure." 

Julia walked over and sat down beside him.  "Why don't
you translate out loud?  I'll type it in the computer."

"Okay."  He was not looking at her, but still
and serious, gazing out the window. 

"What's wrong, Robin?"

He sighed.  "We now have the only copies.  I need
to get to a fax machine, but I don't think anything's open after five in this town."

"What happened to the other copy that Sandy made?"

"It was taken at gunpoint from two of my friends at
the D.A.'s office, just about an hour ago."

"Oh, no!" Julia exclaimed.

Robin nodded.  "They were going up to their offices
when they were ambushed in the underground parking garage.  My best friend, Tony,
didn't want to give up the material.  He's in the hospital."

"I'm so sorry, Robin."  Julia put her head in
her hands.  Quijada would do anything to get his property back, and he might suspect
there was another copy.  The two of them must appear guilty because they ran.  She
felt angry at herself for the stupid plan to steal from Quijada's safe.  All she
had done was cause havoc.  Robin would be hurt or killed if he went back to Los
Angeles.  His best friend, Tony, was injured.  The whole thing was one gigantic
disaster.

"Tony will be all right," Robin said, "He
might have a minor concussion.  Someone wearing a stocking mask hit him on the head
with the barrel of a gun."

Julia slid to the floor with her back to the couch and
pulled the computer in front of her.  When he didn't say anything, she told him,
rather grimly, to go ahead and dictate.

"6-14-09 comma T period J period.  Pick up capitol
C. by A.G.  New sentence right below it, indented.  Dollar sign, one five zero comma,
three zeros, period.  Ten o'clock p.m.  Capitol J period G period."

"Wait!" 

Robin had started to go on when Julia interrupted, first
carefully reading what she had typed again, and then looking up at him.  "That
sounds like a pick up!  Tia Juana.  Cocaine.  For a hundred and fifty thousand,
by someone with the initials, A. G."

"Smart girl.  You got it."  He smiled in triumph. 

"Really?"  She looked at the ledgers.  If this
was indeed the contents, they had the information that would damn Quijada.

"This stuff is absolute dynamite," Robin said. 
"Your brother was right in telling you to get it.  And I swear, I will never
allow that dirty drug dealer near the governor's mansion with this information."

Julia let out a great whoop of relief.  Unable to contain
herself, she stood up and jumped up and down in glee.  Robin stood up too and hugged
her quickly and hard and she felt her breath whoosh out.  Then he picked her up
by the waist, lifting her high above him, and whirled her around.

"Congratulations, Julia," Robin said as he put
her down gently, patting her on the back.  "I really didn't know how explosive
this was until a few moments ago."

Robin still had his hands on her waist and was looking
right into her eyes, smiling down at her.  They were standing very close together. 
His blue eyes were mesmerizing, and Julia found she couldn't look away.  She stepped
forward, drawn to Robin, and hugged him.  He was hugging her back, tight, when she
came to her senses and let go, backing up a little unsteadily.  It was dizziness
from the whirling Robin had given her, she was sure.

The relief Julia felt was an intense kind of righteous
triumph.  There had been moments when she had been afraid that what she took would
turn out to be a schedule of the landscaping around Quijada's home, or maybe an
inventory of payments to his household workers.  There was also the grim realization
that they had found the cause for her brother's death.

"You waited until I was about ready to slash my wrists,
I was feeling so guilty," Julia accused, covering for the sudden longing she
had felt in the heady moments just past to kiss Robin, because of his eyes and because
she felt so happy. 

"Just upped the anticipation level a bit."

"Cruel and unusual punishment," Julia muttered
grouchily, to hide the fact that she felt so drawn to him.  She vowed to keep her
guard up. 

"Lets keep going," Robin said, sitting down again. 
"I think the initials refer to Artie Garcia, the man I recognized in the photographs
you took at Quijada's.  He's the guy I contacted for the drug meet last night."

There was a definite pattern to the drug drops and pick-ups. 
Since it was mostly in code, they had some spirited arguments about exactly where
the drugs were passed.  Quijada had a fleet of planes which he used for crossing
the border from Mexico into the United States, but the ledgers showed much more
mundane modes of transport; via trucks right through the checkpoints from Mexico. 
There was a list of distribution points and initials for  the main gang leaders
selling the product.  The network went from Mexico, across the borders to California,
New Mexico, Texas and Nevada, and then spread to point cities in the East, including
Boston, Chicago, Miami and New York.

Finally, after they had worked a couple of hours, Robin
stood up and stretched to get the kinks out.  He threw his glasses on the table
and announced.  "Dinner time."  He went over to the panoramic windows. 
It was dark outside and had started snowing. 

Julia walked over and stood beside him, cupping her hands
over the glass.  Big flakes were dancing like feathers down into the darkness of
the lake and disappearing on the surface.  It looked like a winter fairyland outside
the windows, with the trees slowly receiving a mantle of white.  The snow glistened
in the glow of a cloudy half moon.

"The best thing about the ledgers is that they're
in Quijada's own handwriting," Julia said as she followed Robin into the kitchen.

"They were taken illegally.  Wouldn't be allowed as
evidence in a court of law.  But this information can initiate a massive clean-up
of much of the illegal narcotics coming into the country from Mexico.  And Quijada
will be intimidated as hell.  He can't run for governor if he knows this stuff might
be lurking around, ready to be unearthed.  In your situation, we might say that
you were given permission to take pictures and innocently found it."

Robin was looking into an almost empty refrigerator.  "I'm
starved and everything's frozen or dead."

"How can I write the book if I can't tell the truth
about how I got the information?" Julia murmured, as she wandered around the
kitchen, opening cabinets, looking for something to munch on.

Robin turned around, "I have no doubt you'll think
of something."

"I'll have to tell the truth."

"You can't.  Just say that someone saw the pictures
you took at Quijada's and put it all together."

"You have to be in the book, Robin."

"Absolutely not."  He sounded unyielding on that
point and Julia decided not to pursue it.  She thought she could get him to relent
once Quijada was in jail. 

Julia went over and stood in front of the open refrigerator
door.  There were some soft drinks, beer and a few wizened fruit.

"I'll go to the store," Robin said.  "Or
take you out for dinner."

Julia opened the freezer and gazed inside.  "How about
shrimp scampi?  And if you like vegetables, we can have a good meal with everything
in here.  I don't feel like going out in the snow."

"The bike's not a good idea," Robin admitted. 
"The conditions are too dangerous, now."

"You'll have to eat vegetables," Julia warned.

"I'm easy.  I can eat anything.  I just can't cook."

"Then get out of the way," Julia said, happily,
pulling the shrimp out of the freezer.  "I'm going to make us a feast."

"You don't mind?"  He looked almost painfully
anxious and Julia smiled at him.  There was rice in a cabinet that she could use
with the shrimp, butter and scallions for the sauce.

"I'll make a special dinner, Robin.  You certainly
deserve it."

"We could try the bike, see how it goes."  Robin
was thinking of the women he usually took out.  They expected the finest, most expensive
restaurants in Los Angeles.  None had never offered to cook him dinner unless it
was an uncomfortable situation in which they were obviously trying to lure him into
considering domesticity.  He had learned to beg off, after having gone through some
excruciatingly uncomfortable experiences, with horrible food, when the woman in
question did not clearly cater the dinner and then try to pass it off as her own
cooking.

"I may be a feminist, but I love to cook.  You can
do the dishes."

Robin sat at the kitchen counter drinking a beer, watching
for a while.  "Do you have to use every pot and pan in the whole kitchen?"

"I can't mix the sauce for Scampi with the dressing
for the vegetables."  She was squeezing a lemon in yet another pan.

"You're taking feminism too far.  I'll be washing
dishes until tomorrow morning."

Julia glanced at him.  "That's the whole reason I'm
doing this, you know.  It has nothing to do with being starved after learning to
ride a Harley.  Then having to tell you exactly where the drugs were spread out
all over the east coast."

"So, my geography isn't as good as yours.  You were
born there."  He loved the intent expression on her face as she rushed about,
stirring a pot and checking into the microwave.  "How do you know when the
shrimp are done?"

Julia started taking out serving bowls.  "They turn
a nice pink color.  It's all in the color.  You have to watch them very carefully
or they'll turn rubbery.  Timing is especially critical when they've been frozen." 

She went on with a monologue on how to cook shrimp as Robin
took plates out of the cabinets and set the table in the living room.  He wanted
to eat by the fire and watch the snow falling outside.  The whole situation was
romantic as hell and he turned on the compac disc player very softly, picking out
Barbara Streisend and some soft rock.

"It's Tony, isn't it?" Julia said as she rushed
in with a  platter piled with shrimp.  She put it on the table and was actually
running back into the kitchen, so he couldn't answer right away.

When she came back with rice and vegetables, Robin asked
her what she had meant.

"This cabin.  The big house in Beverly Hills.  And
the Harley."

"Why did you ask that?" Robin asked, uncomfortably,
avoiding her eyes.

"Well, he's your best friend.  And you said the person
who owned this place was a lawyer.  Tony's in the D.A.'s office, so I assume he's
a lawyer.  I don't mean to pry."

Julia had started serving Robin from the platters on the
table and this gave Robin a moment to collect his thoughts.  "That's a very
good guess.  And I promise, by the time Quijada's in jail, I'll tell you everything."

"I also know you aren't only a mechanic."  She
watched him take a bite. 

"This is absolutely wonderful," Robin said closing
his eyes in appreciation.  When he opened them he looked at her, "What are
you doing?  You haven't even served yourself."

Julia smiled.  "Most of the fun is in watching someone
else eat what I cook."  She started filling her plate. 

"Just watch me then, and you'll see extreme enjoyment. 
In fact, this is probably the best shrimp I've ever tasted."

"You're evading my question."

"I forgot it, eating this gourmet dinner.  You cook
like this, and I'll wash dishes till dooms day."

"Okay.  You're going to sit there and dodge my questions,
so I'll tell you what I think."

"What?"

"You're an undercover cop."

Luckily Robin had his mouth full.  He managed to swallow. 
"How did you reach that conclusion?"

"Well, first, your size and the fact that you work
out.  Probably with weights, to look at you.  I can see you're in excellent physical
condition.  Then there's the fact that you worked with other cops on the drug buy. 
You set that up quickly, so I thought you must be involved with them.  And you know
quite a bit about the law, also."

"I do?" Robin asked with an innocent expression.

"Yes.  You were talking about plea bargaining and
snitches and jail sentences.  Plus, I guessed that you work with people in the District
Attorney's office pretty regularly.  Your best friend, Tony, works there.  But you
said there were two friends at gunpoint in the parking garage, so you know more
people in that office than Tony.  And then there's the most important clue of all."