“We better reach out to our friend and see if he knows where they are!”

“Whiskey Jake is with Damien. I’m sure our friend is involved and unable to call. He could be with Rellik right now.”

“So what should we do? Set up on Damien? You can bet he is going to take a personal interest in this.”

“Personal! Oh, it’s personal all right. Just ask Holly or Charlie or Danny and Susan! This is personal! It’s also personal for Damien!”

“Jack, relax,” said Laura quietly. “You don’t have to convince me it’s personal. Danny’s baby convinced me of that. If the both of them are found with a bullet in their head, I won’t exactly lose sleep over it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Good. Then let’s not lose sleep. Go home and rest. I’ll call you as soon as Damien contacts me.”

Laura stared intently at Jack and then nodded in agreement.

They were just pulling out of the lot when Jack received a text message from Lance.

“It’s our friend,” he said, reading the message. “Says we need to talk. Urgent. He is on his way to meet Number One.”

“He’s on his way here,” said Laura. “We could meet him a block away before he arrives.”

Jack shook his head. “We don’t need him telling us tonight what is going to happen. I’d rather he tell us tomorrow.”

“Good point,” replied Laura.

Lance wasn’t too surprised when he received a message back asking, On your way to VGH?

Lance quickly typed, Yes.

Lance was shocked when his next message asked, The two interviews over?

Lance paused, not sure how to respond. Then simply typed, Yes, but not finished.

You safe?

Yes.

We’ll meet tomorrow.

Jack put his BlackBerry away as Laura said, “Yes, but not finished?”

“They’re still alive.”

“That’s what I figured,” said Laura.

A few minutes later, they stopped at a traffic light and Jack noticed that Laura was starting to tremble.

“You okay? Your body is shaking.”

She turned the heater on high and said, “I’m cold.”

“I know how you feel,” said Jack. “I get ... cold too, when I’ve been shot at. It’s funny. You think it would happen at the time, but with me, it seems to come later when I’m actually safe.”

“I guess that’s when we finally have time to think about it. How do you handle it?”

Jack let out a sigh, then said, “Natasha says it’s something you need to be aware of and control. Emotional shock, acute stress disorder, PTSD — whatever the label, it basically boils down to someone being exposed to a life-threatening event. A reaction to something that causes intense fear, helplessness, and horror.”

“Like back at the river.”

“For Vicki and Katie ... yes.”

“You trying to tell me you weren’t afraid? Horrified at what almost happened?”

“Definitely, but not helpless. Neither were you. When we were running toward them, I slipped and fell. It didn’t slow you down any. You continued right on.”

“I was too afraid to turn around. Thought I would get a bullet in the back.”

“Or too angry. Either way, you’re not what I would call helpless. Remember that. You made decisions. You were in control. As long as your brain has control of something, anything, you are not entirely helpless.”

Laura gave him a grim smile, then continued to drive. After a moment she turned the heater off and said, “Thanks.”

“You may not know it yet, but there might be times when this job could become stressful. We have to watch out for each other.”

“It could get stressful!” yelled Laura, while punching Jack on the shoulder. “Well, please let me know if you think that might happen!”

They both laughed, harder than they would normally have, as their bodies and minds leapt at the chance to relieve some tension.

“Does Natasha prescribe something for it? The stress, I mean?” asked Laura, while glancing in the rear-view mirror at her mascara.

“A three-olive martini works for me. Care to join me?”

Laura shook her head. “Thanks, no. Elvis will be wondering what happened. We’ve already logged in fourteen hours today. All I want to do now is close my eyes.”

Laura was almost home when she drove past a liquor store, then slammed on her brakes and backed up.

Jack was relaxing on the sofa talking to Natasha when the phone rang.

“This stuff is awful!” said Laura. “How do you drink it?”

“Ah ... you are wise to phone the master martini maker,” replied Jack. “It is actually an acquired taste. For beginners, I recommend...”

Elvis saw Laura’s hand tremble as she slid a martini across the kitchen table toward him. He took a sip, grimaced, and then said, “So, you set the alarm clock for four?”

Laura nodded.

“Pretty early.”

Laura took a swallow but held the glass with both hands to try to stop it from spilling.

“Are you going to tell me about it?”

Laura peered at him from over her glass but didn’t reply.

“Something bad happened today ... or tonight.”

Laura put her glass back down on the table and her eyes opened wider as she feigned surprise.

Elvis’s face reddened and he said, “Don’t lie to me, Laura! Don’t give me that act surprised, show concern, deny, deny, deny routine. You narcs do it so much that it has become a joke in our office. If you don’t — or can’t — tell me, fine, but respect me enough not to lie to me.”

Laura’s face went blank for a moment, then she started to cry. Elvis put his arms out to her. She quickly rose and then sat on his lap and held him tight.

“I respect you,” she sobbed, “and I love you more than anything. What happened today ... I really love you. This ... I can’t talk about it. Everything will be okay. Just trust me.”

Elvis held her but didn’t respond. What is going on?

chapter thirty-three

It was quarter to four in the morning when Damien, Lance, and Whiskey Jake arrived back at the car wash. Leitch and Ray lifted their heads and turned to stare. They were still naked and tied face-down to the railings on the floor, with gags in place.

Leitch’s eyes were wide with fear. His face was bloodied, but he still had hope. He grunted and whined as he tried to plead. White blisters on the soles of his feet were explained by the cigarette butts lying beside them.

Ray’s eyes were dark. His experiences had taught him that pleading might only prolong the inevitable, delaying the welcome relief of death. The smell of burnt hair lingered in the air from more personal places where a cigarette lighter had been applied to his body.

“What did you find out?” asked Damien.

Rellik tapped Ray in the ribs with his boot and said, “Ray, here, was acting on orders from Carlos. They found out that Jack Taggart was involved with the first shipment that the cops grabbed in San Diego.”

“How?”

“They have sources in the phone companies. They did phone tolls of the U.S. cop who got the search warrants. They found several calls back and forth between him and Taggart. Right before the bust, during the bust ... and a call after. Good idea. Something we should be doing.”

“Why the fuck didn’t Carlos tell me? Would have been nice to know, seeing as we had two more shiploads coming!”

“They figured they had taken care of the problem before the next ship went out, except they whacked the wrong guy. That’s also where Leisure Suit Larry here came in. He told Ray that you weren’t prone to killin’ cops ... not even broads that work in the cops’ labs. They figured if you knew, you might back out of the deal.”

Damien knelt close to Leitch’s face and said, “You will soon discover that killing people is an option I am not always opposed to.”