Jackie's Week (4 page)

Her sister, Donna, carefully searched the
rearview mirror. "I don’t see anybody."

Jackie put her head back and closed her eyes
while Donna drove them in her vintage MGB convertible over
Sepulveda pass towards the ocean. Popping out of the mountain
tunnel onto the downhill side of Mulholland, the cooler air carried
with it a special energy.

"Ahhh," Jackie said. "Air."

"I don’t see how you can stand living in that
shitty Valley," Donna said. "Every time I come over the hill, my
throat closes up."

Jackie regarded her younger sister, admiring
as always the fabulous tan and bouncy blonde ponytail, the very
picture of the California girl-next-door.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Donna asked.
"You were so quiet on the way to see Johnson, it scared me. Why did
he want to see you today?"

"His name is Viktor Bout," Jackie said. "Last
night, the police arrested him. They found my driver’s license in
his car."

"Viktor Bout?" Donna said.

"Hideous name, isn’t it?"

"Yes. It truly is. It sounds like a fake name
to me. "

"And guess what? They not only found Bout,
but after they did, one of Bout’s friends left me another message
on my doorstep—my ring. Then the guy who left me a message was
found in a dumpster with his head cut off."

"Oh God," Donna said. "Bobby."

"Yes," Jackie said. "It has been quite a day.
Quite a day indeed. I just found out I am a dead woman. Either I
will kill myself or they will do it for me. I was planning on doing
it myself, but for some reason I have changed my mind. I think my
anger is finally breaking through. And there is something
else."

"What else, Jackie?"

"Last year, I think I met Bout one night when
I was blind drunk. So we think he stalked me because of that. I
must have rejected him or something, but I don't remember."

"Oh no."

"Yes."

"Okay, Jackie," Donna said. "That’s it. Now
that we know who he is, I am going to give my husband the
go-ahead."

"What does that mean, the go-ahead?"

"You know. Go ahead and get rid of the guy.
Get rid of Viktor Bout and his friends. For good."

"Bienenfeld is a banker. Why would you think
he has the connections to pull off something like that?"

"Jackie, you know full well Bienenfeld has a
dark side. Don’t tell me you never suspected as much."

"Great. Your husband’s a killer. Anything
else you want to confess while I’m at the weakest point in my
life?"

"Sometimes you need a killer. The world isn’t
just made up of nice people, the world, it’s—"

"—don’t, Donna. As tempting as your offer is,
I can’t let the stink of this thing get on anybody else I’m close
to. No matter what your husband has done in the past."

"The stink is already on us. It’s ruining
everybody’s life. And can we go on with the way you’ve handled it
this past six months? By staying drunk and isolating in your
hideous apartment?"

"Well, at least I won’t be going back there
again."

"You’re right about that. You’re staying with
me until this thing is resolved."

Donna signaled for a left onto Ocean Avenue
which ran along the bluff.

"I think we should go somewhere else today,"
Jackie said. "I’m not sure how safe it is to walk in the park."

"Jackie, we have cops shadowing us. In fact,
we are not going to walk in the park. We are going to the pier. It
is about time."

"Donna, please. I’m not ready for all those
people at the pier."

Donna reached out placed her hand over her
sister’s. "Jackie, listen to me. Your eyes say it all. You have
become a ghost. You’re scrawny. You need the basics of life right
now. Food. Sunshine. A safe haven. There is nowhere left for you to
run. You’ve got to start making a comeback or you are going to
die."

Jackie gripped her hand. "Donna, what am I
going to do? This thing is bigger than I am. Does anybody know what
a woman goes through after she’s been attacked? You see it on the
news every day. You see the film clips of the animals in the orange
jumpsuits wearing chains, flashing their gang signs, with their
shaved heads and smirky looks. You see guys like Richard Allen
Davis, flipping the bird at the parents of the child he murdered.
Then there’s John Walsh. They only just now closed the case on his
kid. Doesn’t anybody care about the victims? Every time I watch the
news, I can see the list of human sacrifices like myself growing
longer."

"Everybody’s afraid," Donna replied. "But
right now you’ve got to find a way to get on with your life."

"And that will be accomplished exactly how,
please?"

"I told you. Dr. Black is going to help
you."

"Oh Lord."

"Jackie, instead of trying to solve your
entire life, you have to put first things first. The first thing is
to keep seeing Dr. Black, one appointment at a time. After that, if
it isn’t right for you, fine. We tried."

Donna cranked a right on Colorado and the
Pacific popped into view, the sight of it freed from the grasp of
tall buildings, its breathtaking panorama stretching away before
them, cold, and blue and beautiful.

The Santa Monica Pier, now completely rebuilt
and cleverly commercialized, extended itself hopefully over the
water, its decks awash with tourists, sidewalk performers, portrait
painters, con artists, gangbangers, fishermen, cops, homeless
alkies, junkies, stunt men and women, movie stars and other unusual
denizens of the world’s second largest city. The smells of salt
air, popcorn, fish, and even a little tar assaulted the senses,
creating an instant need to breathe deeply before consuming unusual
foods.

"This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,"
Jackie said. "Even the tar in the air smells good. Pull in next to
the Japanese fried fish place. You think I should eat more? I’ll
show you. I’m gonna get a big order of clams."

"We’ll get the clams later. But first we’re
gonna get some cotton candy and walk down to the end. We can watch
the people fish."

Just then a large filthy man appeared in
Jackie’s window.

"Back off!" Donna hissed.

"Bitch," he hissed back, then stepped way
back at the sight of Donna's small but lethal Astra compact.

The sudden appearance of the aggressive male
threw Jackie into a flashback. Viktor Bout walked toward her, as
always, the T-shirt painted like a tuxedo pulled tightly across his
paunch.

"Vzjat’ na abordaž."

Oh, how she hated those 4 words! How could
such a voice precede such pain? His eyes, red and watery, clearly
communicated the presence of evil.

Oh my God, she thought. I’m being robbed!

His instructions were unclear; she wasn’t
sure what she was supposed to give up. Her purse? The keys to the
Malibu? Her groceries? She could see the supermarket guard by the
entrance to the store. The guard, a woman in dark trousers and a
clean, starched-white uniform shirt, was helping an elderly lady
into her car, and wasn’t paying attention as she should have
been.

She opened her mouth to scream. Maybe this
time, she’d finally get the scream out and the guard would come
running. But as always, his hand closed over her throat, shutting
off her breathing and sending shock waves of pain all the way down
to her feet.

"Jackie?"

She was back. The flashback was over. "Donna.
Help me."

Donna whipped out her cell phone. "We're
going to see Dr. Black now. You need a double session."

Chapter 7

An hour later they found themselves nearing
the old Union Bank building at Ventura and Sepulveda, an area, in
spite of the bankrupt nature of the state, rapidly becoming one of
the richest commercial nodes in the world.

Donna guided Jackie to Dr. Black’s office on
the third floor. The anteroom was a cheerful place with comfortable
armchairs and a children’s table piled high with coloring books and
crayons. A door at one end stood ajar and Black came out.

"Thanks for seeing us right away, Dr. Black,"
Donna said.

"My pleasure," Black said. Black’s handshake
was dry and slightly calloused, the grip muscular and firm. She had
a strong smile and good tan. Up close, Jackie could tell there was
more than a hint of muscle underneath the glowing hot-pink pants
suit.

Donna headed for the easy chairs while Black
guided Jackie through the door to the inner sanctum. The room was
light, bright, and airy.

Dr. Black performed a quick physical exam and
took a little oral history before taking the opposite chair and
gazing into Jackie’s eyes in silence. The seconds stretched
out.

"Nice outfit," Jackie said. "I wish I had the
guts to wear something like it."

Black regarded her for a moment. "I think we
should admit you to the hospital," she said.

"The hospital?"

"Yes."

"I can’t."

"I would hope you’d see the wisdom in my
decision," Black said. "And it is my opinion you need to be there.
You appear to be anemic."

"You can’t make me," Jackie said. "It's not
safe for me there."

"There’s nothing to be afraid of."

"Dr. Black," Jackie said. "There is plenty to
be afraid of. Wait. Please. Won’t you at least listen to me
first?"

"Okay," Black said, cradling the receiver.
"I’m listening."

Jackie launched in, beginning with the attack
on New Year’s eve, all the way to the arrest of the man
responsible. The hour flew by.

"You left something out," Black said. "I
think you know what I mean."

"You mean the rape. I was penetrated, but not
with, uh, not with ...."

"I understand. With something else."

"Yes. The barrel of his gun. But I don't
remember it. I think it happened after he knocked me out."

There. It was out. The dark ugliness of it
spreading through the air between them.

"You remember it," Black said. "You remember
every second of it. But you've managed to suppress most of it."

"I am so alone," Jackie said.

"You’re not alone," Black said.

"Is there any hope?"

"It all depends."

"On what?"

"On you," Black said. "Mind you, this isn’t a
simple as taking a few medications and doing group therapy. There
is a lot of trial and error until we find what works for you. But
you can have a life if you want it."

"I do," Jackie whispered. "I want my life
back."

"Before you leave today, I need your solemn
promise to me you will call me if you start having suicidal
thoughts."

"I promise," Jackie said.

Black called Donna in and charged her with
watching Jackie.

"Okay, then," Black said, as the trio stood
in her doorway. "Donna, Jackie and I will be working together every
day this week." She walked back to the desk and scribbled on a pad.
"In the meantime here’s a prescription to help with your anxiety,
and one to help you sleep. And I also want to do some routine blood
tests. You can take this slip to the lab downstairs. Once I get the
lab results back, I will make further recommendations."

"Dr. Black," Jackie said. "I almost forgot.
What should I do about the lineup?"

"I think you need to face it. This guy has
got to be put away."

"But what about his friends?"

"Jackie, nobody is promised tomorrow, but you
do have the police keeping an eye on you. And of course, Bobby will
be around."

Should she tell him about the dead guy in the
dumpster?

"Just don't go into the future," Black said
in parting. "Stay in the now."

Jackie and Donna entered the elevator to go
down to the lab.

"Believe it or not, I’m starting to feel a
little hope," Jackie said.

"Good. Now let’s do the blood draw and fill
your prescription and then we can go eat. I’m starving. After
dinner, you’re coming home with me. We can watch Casablanca and
crash out early."

After Jackie’s blood draw, they entered the
parking garage and clambered into the car.

"I'm worried about Bobby," Jackie said. "What
if the cops get on to him?"

"Bobby can take care of himself," Donna
said.

Chapter 8

They pulled out onto Sepulveda and headed
north. In spite of the palm trees and the carefully cultivated
image put out by the tourism industry, the Valley weather wasn’t
tropical, but desert in its character, living up to its name,
California, which, literally translated, meant hot oven.

"You know," Donna said. "I do think there is
a car back there which looks familiar. But it could be my
imagination."

"Don’t drive like a maniac and lose him."

Donna smiled. "We’ll take Vanowen to Van Nuys
Boulevard. We can fill your prescription at the Rite Aid on the
corner and have a big starchy dinner at Taxco next door." She hung
a right on Vanowen, where the westbound lanes were dead stopped for
blocks, but the eastbound lanes moved well, as though the entire
population of the eastern sector of Van Nuys was abandoning it, due
to its spiraling decline into third world conditions, complete with
trash strewn streets, wrought iron bars on every door and window,
vicious pit bulls flinging themselves against chain link fences,
and a billion watts of garish neon signage covering every inch of
commercial space.

"Does anybody ever notice what’s happening to
this city?" Jackie said.

"No, they don’t. And neither are we going to.
What we are going to do is get you something to eat. We’re going to
do the one thing we can do. The rest of the world will simply have
to get along without us for awhile."

Donna swung into the Rite Aid parking lot and
parked and they went in. A few minutes later, the pharmacy tech
called them to the counter.

"Ativan is for anxiety," the tech explained.
"You break these in half and take a half tablet three times a day,
one at a time, with food. Then you will be taking Trazodone at
bedtime. Take a whole one. Don’t take any more than that without
checking with your doctor. Don’t drive or operate heavy machinery
while using it."