Linda Kay Silva - Delta Stevens 3 - Weathering the Storm (24 page)

Delta glanced out of the booth and watched as the Accord pulled to a stop. Her stomach felt like it was going to jump into her throat. Unarmed and untapped, if Delta got into that car, she would be completely alone. Because Connie was going to follow using the transmitter, she had parked on a parallel street and wouldn’t even see Delta getting into the Honda.

Great.

“Again, I apologize for the excessive caution, but it is in order.”

Delta swallowed hard. “I understand. My partners will be grateful.”

“Your partners?”

“Of course. There are three of us interested in profiting from this investment.”

“I see. And you were picked to make the transaction?”

Delta nodded. “I am the best business woman of the bunch. My partners make a lot of money. It’s my job to invest it for them. So you see, they will be quite happy to know how discreet and professional your operation’s been so far.”

“Good. I don’t wish to frighten you, but our business...well...it wouldn’t do for you to be a cop or to be followed by one, now would it?”

Delta laughed. “Perish the thought.” Watching the driver step from the car, Delta tried to remain calm. She saw no other alternative but to go through with the ruse; if she tried backing out now, they might become suspicious.

“Martinez has a metal detector to run over you and the athletic bag. Again, just a precaution.”

The large man, Martinez, looked like an ex-wrestler for
Big Time
wrestling. His shoulders were so broad, he would have to turn sideways to get into the phone booth. His forearms were bigger than Delta’s thighs. In his large hand he held a device shaped like a lint brush. Delta managed a grin as he approached the phone booth.

“Once Martinez is through, he will accompany you to the next destination, where we will be able to conduct our business in a more secure environment. And you can be sure that all of this will be well worth it. Investing with us is a sure bet.”

Delta nodded and wondered where the caller was calling from. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

“Good. We’ll see you shortly.”

Hearing the click of the phone, Delta hung up and stepped from the booth. The man-monster did not smile or even move a facial muscle as he ran the detector over her.

“Been doing this long?” Delta asked when he turned the detector off.

Martinez didn’t answer, but solemnly opened the car door for her.

“I’m sorry, Chuckles, I didn’t realize you were the strong, silent type.” As Delta ducked her head into the car, she peered in the side mirror to see if she could catch a glimpse of Connie’s car. When she didn’t see anything, Delta leaned over, buckled her seat belt and swallowed the trepidation rapidly rising inside her.

When Martinez got in the driver’s side, the Honda dipped considerably from his immense weight. Delta guessed him to be close to 300 very solid pounds.

“Where to, Martinez?” Delta asked, rolling her window down. For a brief flash, she considered bailing out of the car and running like hell, but decided against it. If the caller could see her well enough to know she had an athletic bag, what prevented him from having a rifle pointed right at her head?

“What’s that?” Delta asked, turning toward Martinez. “You must have been mumbling. I asked where we’re headed.”

“You’ll see,” Martinez grunted, pulling away from the curb.

Looking out the rearview mirror, Delta sighed.

Goodbye, Con, she thought, as they entered the freeway. Don’t wait up.

The drive only took fifteen minutes. They arrived at a Super Seven Motel on the outskirts of the city. The location didn’t surprise Delta; the motel sat across from two different freeway on-ramps with a winding frontage road with numerous turnouts. It was a mile before the freeway ran into one of the busiest and most confusing interchanges on the L.A. freeway. It was no wonder they hadn’t been caught; they were smart about where they met and how many escape routes they would have.

“Room nineteen.” Martinez grunted. “Knock twice.”

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Happy,” Delta quipped as she dragged the athletic bag with her. “It’s been loads of fun, really. I hope we have a chance to chat again real soon.” As she walked toward the hotel, Delta scanned the near empty parking lot and the surrounding terrain. It was dark, quiet, and much too foreboding. She knew if she made one mistake, if she tipped her hand just once, she would not leave this motel alive.

When she came to room nineteen, she knocked twice, and waited. When the door finally opened, a tall, thin man with a receeding hairline stood in the doorway. He was wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and a suit jacket. He looked like a throwback of the old
Miami Vice
fashion
faux pax
of the early eighties.

“Ms. Anderson?” someone from the room said.

“Yes.” Delta grinned at the thin man as if she were enjoying this whole transaction. Underneath her forced facade were drenched armpits, a rapidly beating heart, and trembling knees. Stepping into the room, Delta knew she was in way over her head. The problem was, there was nothing she could do about it.

“Are you going to let her in or are you going to stand there barricading the door?”

The thin man leaned out the door and looked around. When Martinez nodded once to him, the skinny guy stepped out of the way to let Delta pass.

Delta stepped into the tiny, mildewy room. It was dark and dank, like any cheap, sleazy motel, with brown wallpaper that curled at the top and cigarette burns on the table’s edges. The bedspread was worn and tired and appeared to have come from a Sear’s catalog during the early seventies. If it wasn’t for the twenty-seven inch television set and VCR, the room and its occupants were anachronisms.

“Have a seat,” the thin man said, gesturing at a chair that looked like it had been bought at a flea market.

Delta glanced at the worn upholstery. “No thank you. I prefer doing business standing. Will I be dealing with Poppy tonight?”

The thin man shook his head. “Poppy don’t make no deals.”

Before Delta could ask another question, the battered bathroom door opened and a dark haired man in his mid-forties came out drying his hands on a towel.

“Ms. Anderson,” he said, tossing the towel on the counter before extending his hand to Delta. “I’m Rubin. I’m so glad we have the chance to do business together.”

Delta took his hand, which wasn’t completely dry and shook it firmly. It had been his voice on the other end of the phone and Delta couldn’t tell if he was Spanish, Middle Eastern, or neither. “My pleasure.”

“Thank you for being such a good sport about our security measures, but Poppy is very conservative when it comes to business matters.” His face was fleshy like a man who drank too much, and his stomach was distended as well. He wore a three-piece, charcoal colored suit and a college class ring on his right hand. Clearly the man with the power and the money, Rubin bore all the markings of the lead man. Turning from Delta, he addressed the thin man. “Offer our guest something to drink, will you?”

Delta held up her hand. “Nothing for me, thank you.”

“Very well.” With a nod of his head, Rubin sent the thin man over to the television set, where he stood awaiting further directions. “Very efficient of you to bring cash.”

Delta glanced over at the athletic bag and nodded. “We believe in expediting matters. We didn’t want you leaving town before we had a chance to talk. And, well, let’s be frank here. Money talks.”

Rubin stepped closer to Delta and smiled. “I like your style. It would please me greatly to do business with you.”

“And my partners.”

“Of course. And your partners. But I don’t mind saying, Poppy doesn’t care for silent partners.”

Delta shrugged. “They have a lot to lose. They have even more to contribute to your operation. Silence is golden, Rubin, and in their case, silver and platinum as well.”

The smile on Rubin’s face grew. “Oh, I do think we’re going to get along quite well.” Stepping away from her, Rubin sat on one of the beaten chairs and lit a cigarette. “Smoke?”

“No, thank you. But if you don’t mind, I have an early engagement in the morning and would appreciate it if we could get down to business.”

Drawing deeply on the cigarette, Rubin nodded. “As you wish.” Then, to the thin man, one more jerk of the head, and the thin man pushed a video tape into the recorder.

“Our filming is done with some of the best video equipment on the market today,” Rubin began in a salesman tone of voice. “No more crappy amateur super eight pictures that are all grainy and distorted. We use only the highest quality film. I’m sure you’ll agree when you take a look at it that our videos have the best picture, the best sound, and the best plotting of anything on the market. That’s what makes this such an exciting business. Because of our high standards, we’ll be the number one distributor of this genre across the country. So you see,” he said, turning to catch Delta’s gaze full on, “your investment could possibly net you a return of more than ten times your original investment, and in a very short period of time.”

Delta nodded and turned to the television. God, she didn’t want to see this video. It was one thing to act like a business woman cutting a deal. It was quite another to watch snuff pornography and act like she enjoyed it. If she wasn’t careful, she could very well tip her hand right here.

Just before the movie started, someone knocked twice on the door and the thin man answered. At the door stood a young man in his early twenties, holding something in his hands. But it wasn’t what he was carrying that caught Delta’s attention—it was his left hand. His left hand had only two fingers and he was scarred all the way up to his elbow.

Turning quickly away, Delta fiddled with the zipper on the athletic bag. She was in big trouble now. The newcomer, who was whispering to the thin guy hadn’t yet noticed her. But if he did, she was sunk. He was one of the first busts Delta had made as a rookie. But that wasn’t why he would remember her. No, he would remember how he lost his fingers to a K-9 dog when he reached for his gun during a raid. The dog had bounded across the room and tore into him the moment he moved. The cop partnered with the dog was patting another suspect down, and Delta didn’t know what to do. So, she did nothing.

When the dog was through mauling him, his hand and arm were pretty ripped up. That was the first time Delta had heard the phrase “creative report writing.” She and the other officers agreed afterward that he lost his fingers because he wouldn’t surrender the gun and the dog made him surrender it. The brass bought it and no one was written up for it. The suspect, however, continued to rant and rave all through his trial that the cops let the dog maul him. The whole incident was filled with ugly memories.

“Ms. Anderson, this is Dice. He’s our front man here in River Valley.”

Delta slowly turned from the athletic bag. Maybe she looked different now. Maybe his memory was shot from all the speed he’d done during his short life. Maybe...

Swallowing the ball of fear in her throat, Delta raised up and met his gaze. If Dice recognized her, he gave no immediate indication. Instead, he reached out and shook Delta’s hand.

“Have we met before?” Dice asked, releasing Delta’s hand.

Play it cool, Delta thought. Hold his gaze. Don’t be afraid. “I go to special screenings in the city and in Hollywood. Perhaps we’ve met there.”

Dice frowned. “Yeah. Maybe.” Handing the video to the thin man, Dice moved over to the other worn chair next to Rubin.

“We’ve missed the beginning,” Rubin said to the thin man. “Rewind it so Ms. Anderson can see it from the start.” To Delta. “High resolution, outstanding sound bites, enthralling plots, and of course, its authenticity, make it easily the best on the market today. It won’t be long before we’ll be expanding our market internationally.”

Delta nodded, but kept her gaze on the TV. She could feel Dice’s penetrating gaze at the side of her face as he tried to figure out where he had seen her. She knew he was trying to retrieve her face from his scratchy memory banks.

“The American consumers are no longer willing to sit through those cheesy, cheap celluloid films made famous in the sixties and early seventies. There’s a huge demand for quality projects and we believe we have the means to supply that demand. Take a look and see for yourself.”

Delta didn’t want to look. She wanted to get the hell out of that room before someone figured out who she was. With no weapon, no back-up, and an ex-con trying very hard to place her face, Delta knew she only had minutes to get out before she was completely at risk.

As the video started, Dice leaned over to Rubin and whispered something in his ear.

This is it, Delta thought, her heart racing and her palms sweating. She’d been made. Did she bolt for the door? No, she’d never make it. Did she just deny she was a cop? No, they’d believe Dice. The bathroom. Maybe she could excuse herself to the bathroom. God, she felt trapped.

Before she had a chance to act, Rubin put the VCR on pause. “Dice just informed me, Ms. Anderson, that Poppy has requested a meeting with you. Apparently, he is very interested in your investment and would like to handle it personally.”

Delta studied Rubin’s face and knew he was lying.