18 Explosive Eighteen (26 page)

“What’s with the mask?” I asked her.

“This office reeks,” Connie said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

Lula tipped her head back and sniffed. “Rat fart,” she said. “They probably got into the deli Dumpster.

Smel s like they been eating sauerkraut.”

“You’re an expert on this?” I asked her.

“I know a rat fart when I smel one. And there’s more than one rat farting up there. You probably got a rat condo over you. Personal y, I don’t like rats.

They got those beady eyes, and skinny tails, and they give you the plague.”

Connie was staring at my hair. “Speaking of rats’

nests!”

“Brenda thought I needed to glam up,” I said to Connie.

“It looked good before Miss Prim and Proper here tried to comb it,” Lula said. “She ruined the dramatic effect of the line.”

“I like the color,” Connie said.

“It’s Brenda’s specialty,” Lula said. “It’s cal ed Route 1 Sunrise.”

Connie adjusted her mask. “It takes the attention away from the black eye.”

“I’m leaving,” I said. “The rat farts are getting to me.” I turned to Lula. “I’m going after Magpie tonight.

Are you in?”

“Hel , yeah. And if we get done early enough, we could go to a club and test-drive your hair.” Oh boy.

• • •

It took half a bottle of detangler and two sheets of Downy fabric softener to untease my hair. I showered and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, my thinking being to not compete clotheswise with Route 1 Sunrise.

At seven-thirty, I grabbed my bag and a black hooded sweatshirt and went to the lobby to wait for Lula. Ordinarily, I’d wait outside, but Raz was stil at large, and I didn’t want to chance running into him in the dark.

Lula’s Firebird cruised up to the door, and I jumped in.

“Where we going?” Lula looked over at me.

“Al Saints Cemetery. It’s behind the big Catholic church on Nottingham.”

“I know that cemetery. It’s real pretty. It’s got hil s and woods and shit.”

Twenty minutes later, Lula pul ed into the church parking lot, cut her lights, and crept to the back of the lot, where a single-lane road led into the cemetery.

We got out of the Firebird and stood for a moment, letting our eyes adjust to the darkness.

“I smel campfire,” Lula said. “Magpie’s out there, heating his beans like a hobo.”

I had cuffs stuck into my back pocket, stun gun in my sweatshirt pocket, Glock in my bag. I was carrying a Maglite, but I didn’t want to use it and spook Magpie. There was a sliver of moon behind broken clouds. Enough light to see three feet in front but not much more. The church was lit from the front.

The rear was dark, as was the graveyard.

“This is creepy,” Lula whispered, fol owing close behind me. “I don’t like walking around cemeteries at night. Al the ghosts come out at night. I can feel them breathing on me.”

We were deep into the cemetery when a set of headlights flashed into the parking lot and instantly blinked out. Lancer and Slasher, I thought. In a strange way, it was comforting.

We were fol owing the road, and I could see a dark shape ahead. Something large. Magpie’s Crown Vic. Beyond the Vic, I could hear the crackle of wood burning and see the occasional red ember float skyward. This wasn’t the first time I’d captured Magpie. We had a fairly cordial relationship, al things considered. He wasn’t a violent person.

I stepped around the Vic and cal ed out to Magpie.

“Hey, Magpie,” I said. “It’s Stephanie Plum.” His fire was smal . Just enough to heat a can of beans or roast a hotdog. Magpie wasn’t a big guy.

He was 5′5″ and slim. Definitely entranced by al things shiny, and very clever at stealing them. When his treasures exceeded his storage space, he’d sel them off for whatever he could get.

Magpie looked past his campfire at us. “How’d you find me?”

“Lucky break,” I said. “You have a nice spot here.”

“It’s one of my favorites. It’s so peaceful.” He was wearing the usual. Baggy jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, and about $30,000 worth of gold chains.

“You missed your court date,” I said to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. You have to go back with me to reschedule.

You’ve already eaten dinner, right?”

“Yes. I was just enjoying the fire.”

“It’s a real nice fire,” Lula said. “Keeps the spooks and ghouls away. And by the way, those are some lovely necklaces you’re wearing. Not everyone understands the importance of accessorizing correctly.”

“I have a whole trunkful,” Magpie said. “I can’t wear them al at the same time. They get too heavy. You can have some if you want.”

“Thanks,” I told him. “That’s nice of you, but we can’t take any. I’l put the cuffs on you, and Lula and I can put the fire out, and then we’l go into town. Do you want to ride in the Vic with me? Or do you want to ride in Lula’s Firebird?”

“The Firebird!”

I was about to cuff Magpie when Raz jumped out of the shadows, knife raised. He looked certifiably crazy in the moonlight, bonfire flames reflected in his eyes, and his hair al Wild Man of Borneo.

“Eeeeee!” Lula shrieked. “It’s the Devil. It’s Satan!” Magpie’s eyes went wide, rol ed back into his head, and he crashed over in a dead faint.

“It’s not Satan,” I said to Lula. “It’s Razzle Dazzle.” Raz lunged at me. “Bitch whore. I burn you good with fire stick until you tel me.”

“Hey! What’d you cal her?” Lula said, hand on hip, lower lip stuck out. “You better be careful what you cal her. We don’t put up with none of that shit talk.” He snarled at Lula. “You shut pie hole or I carve you like pig roast.”

“Was I just insulted?” Lula asked. “Did he compare me to a roast pig? ’Cause I don’t like bein’

compared to a pig. And what’s with the knife? I mean, who uses a knife these days?”

Raz held his knife in his right hand and pul ed a semiautomatic out of his pants with his left hand. “I also got big gun,” he said to Lula. “I shoot you in eye and then I slice you and make bacon and cook you in fire.”

And he squeezed off a shot.

“Run for it!” Lula yel ed. “He got a gun! Satan’s got a gun.”

Lula took off and was immediately swal owed up in the black night. She crashed through shrubs, smacking into who knows what on her way to the parking lot, her voice carrying back to me. “Ow, shit, sonovabitch.”

Raz turned the gun on me and fired. I jumped behind a tombstone, he fired again, and the bul et pinged off the marble. I bolted for a smal patch of woods directly behind me. I had my gun in my bag, but no time to search for it. I saw him stumble forward, lit by the campfire. He was hampered by a bul et wound in one leg and a knife wound in the other.

I careful y walked toward the ambient light originating from the front of the church, avoiding the road. I could hear Raz shuffling behind me.

“Here kitty, kitty,” he cal ed. “I come get you, kitty.” An engine cranked over, lights flashed at the top of the hil , and Magpie’s Crown Vic roared down the road, crossed the parking lot, and disappeared for parts unknown, presumably taking a revived Magpie with it.

My feet wanted to run, but my brain insisted I go slow. I couldn’t chance running into a tree or a tombstone in the dark and knocking myself out. I’d managed to find my gun in my bag and had it in hand. I was almost to the lot. I could see the two parked cars. I no longer heard Lula in front of me, or Raz behind me. Just the sound of my heart thudding in my chest.

As I exited the wooded area, I saw Lula move in front of a car and wave at me, and I broke into a sprint across the stretch of open field. I reached Lula and bent at the waist to catch my breath.

I glanced at the Camry next to Lula’s Firebird. “Is this his car?” I asked her.

“Looks like it. There’s no one in it. There’s an extra clip for his gun on the front seat.” I shot two rounds into each tire, Lula and I hustled into the Firebird, and she drove out of the lot onto the road and sat at idle. I cal ed Berger and got him on his cel . I told him Raz was in the cemetery, and his car was disabled.

“You gotta admit, he did sort of look like Satan in the beginning there,” Lula said.

“You freaked. You were squealing like a little girl.”

“I got caught by surprise. And I was affected by the atmosphere. You know how I’m al sensitive to that shit.”

“You yel ed
run for it
! What the heck was that?”

“That was smart,” Lula said. “He was gonna make me into bacon. He’s a maniac. Good thing he can’t shoot for snot with his left hand.”

I agreed. He was definitely a maniac. And he definitely couldn’t shoot left-handed.

“I want to stay here and wait for the police to arrive,” I said. “I don’t want to chance Raz somehow driving away. I want him caught.”

“Sure. Just keep your eyes open for him sneaking up on us. And keep your gun out. I’m not bein’ no breakfast meat.”

After a couple minutes, I thought I saw Raz navigate the open grass to his car. I was sure he’d heard the shots. If it was me, I’d immediately check the tires. I couldn’t see him in the dark lot. We had the window down, listening for footfal s. Lula and I had guns drawn.

“Bitching bitches” carried out to us.

“He looked at the tires,” Lula said.

I saw lights on the road behind us, and a cop car drove up and turned into the lot. It was fol owed by two more police cars and a sedan with a Kojak light.

My cel phone rang. It was Berger.

“Is that you sitting out on the road in a Firebird?” he asked.

“Yes. I put a couple rounds in his tires, so he’s on foot. He’s not far away. I saw him go to his car a couple minutes ago. He’s armed.”

“Thanks,” Berger said. “We’l take it from here.”

“Do you want to stay around and see what happens?” Lula asked.

“No. I want to go home.”

Truth is, I was afraid if I stayed in the area, Raz might circle around and come back and shoot me.

TWENTY-FIVE

LULA PULLED INTO MY LOT to drop me off, and we spotted Brenda’s car.

“That’s Brenda’s toaster,” she said. “And it looks like Brenda waiting for you at the door. And she don’t look good.”

Brenda was hunched, arms wrapped around herself, head down.

Lula cut the engine, and we went to where Brenda was standing and chain-smoking, the butts littering the ground around her.

“What’s up?” I asked her.

“I have terrible problems. I need you to help me. I don’t know who else to ask. It’s my son, Jason. He’s been kidnapped. I was there when they grabbed him and dragged him away.”

“Omigosh,” I said. “That’s serious. Did you cal the police?”

“I can’t. There are circumstances.”

“Such as?”

“The police are sort of looking for Jason,” Brenda said. “It’s not like he’s done anything bad. I mean, he hasn’t kil ed anyone or anything.”

“What
has
he done?”

Brenda lit up another cigarette. Now she had two going at the same time.

“He’s a hacker,” she said.

“I know about them,” Lula said. “They go around giving people a virus. And they steal Sarah Palin’s email.”

“Jason isn’t that kind of a hacker,” Brenda said.

“He would never do anything mean. He’s just interested in the technology. He says it’s like a chess game, and he’s playing the computer. He’s real y smart. He’s a genius.”

“So why do the police want him if he hasn’t done anything wrong?” I asked.

“He has a couple friends who are just like him. It’s, like, a geek club. I guess for giggles they break into government computers and leave funny messages.

They don’t take information out, but the government doesn’t like when their systems get hacked.”

“The government got no sense of humor,” Lula said.

“Anyway, Jason and his friends went underground a year ago. Jason says they aren’t leaving any more funny messages, but the FBI is stil looking for them.

The thing is, the FBI doesn’t know who they are or what they look like, so if Jason keeps a low profile, he might be okay.”

I took a step back to get away from the smoke cloud surrounding Brenda. “Jason is the friend who sent you the photograph from Hawaii, isn’t he?”

“He was trying to help me get my car. He’s such a good boy.”

“Do you know enough about computers to use the photograph?” I asked her.

“No. Jason has a friend here who was going to help me.”

“Sounds to me like Jason come home,” Lula said.

“Why’d he do that if the FBI is lookin’ for him? Why didn’t he just send you another photograph?”

“When poor Ritchy got kil ed, and we found out Razzle Dazzle was involved, Jason knew he was in danger and had to move. Razzle Dazzle has been chasing after Jason for over a year. There are terrorists who would love to get their hands on Jason. And Razzle Dazzle would deliver Jason to them.”

“I’m confused,” Lula said. “Why did this Razzle guy want the photograph? Why didn’t he just go get Jason?”

“Raz only knows Jason by his electronic imprint. I don’t know what that means. Jason says Raz is like a stupid hacker. Eventual y, Raz tracks Jason down, but he doesn’t know his human identity or what he looks like. I think Raz thought Ritchy had a picture of Jason. I don’t think he knew about the code. At least, that’s what Jason thinks. So since Jason had to leave Hawaii anyway, he came home for a couple days to help me get my car and to visit with me. He was supposed to fly out tomorrow, but he got kidnapped.”