‘Sit fucking down!’ he shouted at Joshua, who was now up and looking out of the back windshield.
‘It’s okay; I don’t think they’re on to us,’ Scott announced while staring intently into the passenger side mirror. When he was sure they weren’t being followed, Scott relaxed back into the leather seat and let out a big sigh of relief.
With his nerves settled, Scott pulled his cell phone from his pocket, flicked it open, and switched it on. He waited for exactly one minute, enough time for the phone to find the transmitter, the transmitter to connect to the network, and the network to check for messages. To both Vince and Scott’s surprise there was no message.
‘Harrison’s screwed us over!’ they both spat in unison.
With the sandwiches eaten, and the flask of coffee as empty as the street, Malone reached over to the back seat and picked up the folder Daniel had compiled.
‘What’s that?’ Erin asked.
‘Some research Daniel did on Harrison.’
‘Doesn’t look like he’s been that busy.’ Erin sneered.
Been busy with my wife’s murderer, he thought to himself.
He flipped open the folder, held up the two sheets of paper, and said, ‘I think you’re right.’
The information was scarce at best; it was more like a two-page résumé than a background check. There was a list of companies where Harrison had worked on one page and his personal details: date of birth, address, and marital status — married, no kids, were on the other.
‘Only his hobbies and interests are missing,’ Malone muttered.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ he said and closed the folder again, letting out a bored sigh.
They sat silently again and stared at the back of the van in the near-empty street.
‘Looks like it’s going to be a really long night; I think we’re gonna need some more coffee,’ Malone said. ‘How about we go and get a top up at the gas station?’ It was more of a statement than a question, because Malone was going to go whether Erin said yes or no.
‘Sure, why not?’ she nodded.
They drove a few blocks and pulled up at the gas station. They both got out and stretched, and Malone went and got the attendant to fill up the flask. Once he’d paid and started to walk back to the car, he realized they were on the edge of Hollywood. Reluctant to go and potentially sit fruitlessly outside the hotel for the rest of the night, Malone had an idea.
‘Hey Erin, Harrison lives in East Hollywood. Want to swing by to see how the other half live? The criminal half that is!’
Erin thought for a moment before she asked, ‘Can we throw rocks through his window?’
‘Be rude not to,’ Malone replied and they both laughed.
Vince grabbed the phone from Scott.
‘Let me call the double-crossing bastard,’ he said and dialed the number.
‘Good evening.’ The voice that answered the phone didn’t belong to Harrison, but Vince was too angry for that to register.
‘What the fuck happened tonight?’ He yelled into the phone
‘So pleased you could call, but I can only assume that you want to talk to Mr. Harrison.’ The voice was calm and detached.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ Vince’s anger had immediately turned to a mix between fear and curiosity.
‘Who I am is not important to you right now. What is important is that you have something that belongs to a client of mine, something he wants back...’ The man’s tone was like a surgical instrument, cold and precise.
‘Listen to me buddy, I don’t know who you are, but you’re messing with the wrong guys at a very wrong time. Now put Harrison on the phone right now!’ Vince was full of bravado, but fear was taking hold of his voice and it wavered slightly.
‘Is this Vince or Scott I’m talking to? Either way it doesn’t matter. Let me answer your question so you can focus on what I have to say. Mr. Harrison is unable to come to the phone because I have killed him.’
‘You’ve wha...How do you know my name?’
‘Now, please be calm and listen to me; I am going to reiterate my request. If you and your friend do not want to join the recently departed Mr. Harrison, then you will return to me the memory device you have in your possession.’
‘What memory device?’ Vince frowned trying to work out what the man was talking about. Scott, who had been listening to only one side of the conversation picked up on the memory device question and tried to get Vince’s attention. Vince waved him off.
‘You are beginning to try my patience. I have checked your computer and confirmed that you have it, so although playing dumb must come naturally I’m afraid now is not the time to perfect the art.’
‘You arrogant fuck.’ Vince spat into the phone. ‘I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, and even if I did, you don’t have a shit show of getting it now.’ Fuming, Vince snapped the phone shut.
‘Vince, we do have the flash drive he’s after.’ Scott said finally getting through to him.
‘You what?’ he said.
‘Remember? We, or should I say Joshua, picked it up from the office job.’
‘I thought that was just a prop to back up his bullshit dead body story.’
Scott looked confused for a moment.
‘It has to be the thing he’s talking about, but it doesn’t make sense, I had a look at what was on it, it’s just a bunch of vacation pics.’
‘Bullshit. Why would he kill Harrison over a few holiday snaps?’
‘He did what?’ Vince went on to tell him the other side of the conversation ending with ‘He said he’d checked our computer too.’
‘Well, that explains the computer being on — that bastard’s been in our place.’
They both sat in silence for a while as they tried to come up with what to do. Scott was the first one to speak.
‘Joshua, do you still have the flash drive?’ Joshua nodded ‘It’s here in my pocket.’ He made a move to get it out.
‘No that’s okay; you keep it for now. Here’s what I think we should do. Give the guy a call back and tell him that we do have his flash drive and that we’ll give it back if he can come up with $100,000 and a way that convinces us that we’ll stay safe. If not we’ll keep it and take our chances.’
Vince looked at him in disbelief.
‘Well, can you come up with a better idea? I figure he’s cut off our regular source of income, so we let him do some of the thinking since he thinks he’s so smart.’
Vince shrugged his shoulders and dialed the number again. After several rings a different voice answered the phone.
‘Hello?’ A different voice asked.
‘What the fuck – is this a public phone box or something? Who the hell are you?’ Vince was astounded.
‘Michael Malone. Who is this?’
‘Put me on to the other guy!’ Vince demanded.
‘I can’t, he’s dead.’ Malone replied.
‘Shit, he’s dead as well? Who killed him?’ Vince was completely confused, but not as much as Malone.
‘What do you mean — as well? There’s only one dead guy here. Now who is this?’
Vince hung up and switched off the phone.
Malone and Erin had pulled up outside Harrison’s house in time to see the black SUV disappear up the street, its red tail lights only coming on as it got to the end of the road and made a left.
Malone had thought it was odd, but the focus of his attention had immediately changed when he looked at Harrison’s house. The front door was wide open and most of the houses lights were on. Malone had raced out of the car and into the house, yelling at Erin to call the cops.
The downstairs level was empty. The lights were on, pieces of furniture were overturned and pictures were off the wall, the place was a mess. Malone had called out to Harrison but got no answer, so he had cautiously climbed the stairs to the second level, headed straight for the master bedroom.
Lying on the bed in a pool of blood was the toupeless Harrison. As Malone neared his body he could see that the man’s throat had been cut, he made no attempt to revive him he could tell by the amount of blood that Harrison’s heart had long since stopped pumping.
Looking at the shambles of the room, he’d jumped when the shrill ring of the phone burst into life. He’d picked it up and unknowingly spoken with Vince.
‘
W
hat the fuck are we going to do?’ Vince blurted out.
They were still parked at the side of the road and both had been going over the conversation in their minds.
‘The guy’s already been to our place so going back there tonight is out of the question. How about we go and check into a motel for the night and get some sleep, we’ll be able to think better in the morning.’ Scott suggested.
‘Do you think he’s really killed Harrison?’
‘That’s what the other guy said, what’s his name – Malone.’
‘Who the hell is he?’
‘I don’t know and right now I don’t care.’
‘Fair enough. Any suggestions as to which motel you want to stay at?’
Scott thought for a moment. ‘There’s a place I know in the Valley, it isn’t great but it’s clean and they don’t ask questions.’ He said motioning towards Joshua.
Vince understood.
‘I think we should do a drive by Harrison’s place on the way, just to make sure no-one is messing with us.’ Scott added.
Vince agreed and put the car into drive.
Elwood parked his SUV across the street from Scott and Vince’s place. He planned on waiting a while to see if they were dumb enough to return home. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t, but sometimes criminals did the dumbest things. He pulled out his computer and typed out his report on the evening so far. Killing Harrison wasn’t completely necessary, but it did send a message to the torches that he was serious, and if he was honest, with all that had happened recently the man had probably outlived his value. Elwood had used Harrison on a number of the west coast jobs, and he had always delivered a professional service, but if he couldn’t get his contractors to obey his simple request to take nothing from the job, then he had no control over them. Having no control would inevitably be dangerous for everyone involved, so at some point he would have to go anyway. Killing him now saved doing it later.
He waited for over an hour before deciding that Scott and Vince weren’t as dumb as they looked. He popped his trunk, grabbed his tool kit, and then crossed the street to the house. Once again, he went around to the back and let himself into the building via the ranch slider. He went straight to the kitchen and wriggled the stove out of its slot in the bench; with the wrench he unbolted the gas pipes and let the gas flow freely. He then went to the cutlery drawer, pulled out a handful of knives, and then opened the door to the microwave to drop them onto the glass plate. Slamming the door closed, he set the timer for fifteen minutes delayed start and the cooking time for thirty minutes, although he knew the sparks would start to fly shortly after the machine began.
He didn’t hang around to see the place go up, he just jumped into his SUV and made his way back to his motel to rest — it had been a busy night.
Malone knew it was just routine, but he was getting annoyed at the way Rodriguez was going over and over their story, particularly since there wasn’t that much of a story to tell.
‘Like I’ve told you before, we were bored waiting for Vince and Scott to arrive at the Hotel, so we went to get some coffee and snacks. We decided to detour via Harrison’s on the way back to the stakeout. Door was open and lights were on when we got there, Harrison was already dead. No, we didn’t see who did it, but I saw a dark SUV with its lights off leaving the street as we pulled in.’ Malone’s voice was monotone.
The one thing that was missing from the story was the cellphone call. He hadn’t had chance to tell Erin about it, and to tell Rodriguez about the call would have meant telling him about the existence of the phone, the phone that was currently nestled in his pocket. Malone was getting annoyed with Rodriguez’s sluggish, by-the-book approach. Sure, he knew there were certain protocols that had to be observed to make sure there was zero wriggle room for the defendant when caught, but it was the
when
that concerned Malone. Arson had now turned to murder, which meant even more hurdles and delays, and Malone’s fear for Joshua’s safety was reaching boiling point.
So
Erin must be going crazy,
he thought. It was time for him to speed things up.
Taking his personal feelings about Daniel’s misguided loyalty to his murdering mother out of the picture, Malone knew Daniel would be able to hack the phone and hopefully give him some answers or leads — unhindered by any form of bureaucracy or bill of rights.