Pyramid Deception (20 page)

“I see,” Hannibal said. “Severance pay.” Cindy shook her head and tasted her bourbon.

“Yeah, but I didn't get mad,” Sarah said. “I had pretty much wasted my life up to then, but I took his cash and my degree and my knowledge of what men really care about, and I started this place. The Lucent has been profitable since year one.”

“It took me a while to get the name,” Cindy said. “Lucent, meaning luminous, right? Also short for pellucid, a synonym for clear or transparent, not hiding anything. Like your girls.”

“I'm impressed,” Sarah said. “You picked up the second meaning, but maybe you missed the historic context.”

“Enlighten us,” Hannibal said.

Sarah took a small sip of bourbon. “Well, the first building that opened here back in the sixties was called Crystal House and it had this huge crystal chandelier in the lobby. After that they all copied it. Crystal Gateway on that side, Crystal Towers over here. I didn't want to do that so I called this place Lucent, as in translucent, to kind of resonate with the crystal imagery. Probably nobody noticed but me.”

“You started a business while still a young mother?” Cindy said. “I for one am impressed.”

“You don't know the half of it, sister,” Sarah said, waving the thought away with a hand. “I figured I could use a little help so I got involved with another man. We got married, and he did help recruit the talent, but Sid got too friendly with the hired help and I had to toss him out on his ass.”

“So there you were,” Hannibal said with as little emotion as possible. “Alone, raising a family while trying to get a business off the ground, and all because Wash Monroe kicked you to the curb for a younger woman. A white girl at that. You must have come to resent him as time passed.”

“Resent him? Wash was a Godsend in those days.” Sarah tipped her glass up, emptying the contents down her throat. “Look, Wash may not have given a damn about me, but he felt responsible. He made sure the kids had what they needed no matter what. Even paid for surgery when one of them needed it. And when they were old enough, he made sure all four of my boys had jobs, either working for him or for somebody who owed him. Took a lot of the weight off me while I was trying to make it. I don't know if anybody else will mourn that man, but you can bet your ass I will.” She slammed her glass down on the table as if to put an exclamation point on her sentence.

A close look into Sarah's eyes convinced Hannibal that her emotions were real. He was letting a few seconds pass for Sarah to collect herself when Cindy spoke up.

“So who wanted him dead?”

“Damned if I know,” Sarah said. “But I sure hope you find the son of a bitch.”

Beyond that the three exchanged the pleasantries required by polite society but all three knew the conversation was over. Cindy stood when Hannibal did, they thanked their hostess for her time and stepped into the narrow elevator. The second the doors slid closed, Cindy took Hannibal's arm and spoke in a low tone.

“I guess this was a dead end, but I'm glad we got to talk to her. A life like hers sure gives you perspective. Impressive lady.”

Hannibal turned to smile down at her. It was one of the things he loved most about Cindy, her natural tendency to see the best in people. She warmed his heart, and the smile that generated was still there when the elevator doors slid open and a hard black fist drove deep into his stomach.

A hand like a catcher's mitt smothered Cindy's scream. Two muscular men squeezed into the narrow box. Cindy's arm, wrapped around Hannibal's right arm, had short-circuited his response to the first punch and his other fist didn't travel far enough to do much damage. He took a couple more solid body blows and a right cross slammed his head back into the wall. Then each of his attackers took one of his arms and half walked half dragged Hannibal's dazed form out of the elevator. He was just conscious enough to curse himself for letting his guard down.

Both attackers, young black men, wore pea coats and jeans and thick work boots. Their body odor fought through their coats to assault Hannibal's nose. He could hear the music of the club muffled by a wall and becoming more and more distant. Both men had strong grips and when Hannibal struggled to free his arms it earned him a sharp shot to the ribs.

They travelled down a narrow hall and out into the cool evening air. When his eyes began to focus Hannibal saw Cindy close behind him. A third man followed too close to her, and Hannibal saw the glint of a stainless steel revolver in his hand.

The thin twilight gave way to the harsh lights of a little-used hotel entrance. Hannibal heard a pair of approaching footsteps. The man at the back tucked his gun into his coat pocket. Hannibal heard the man on his right mumble, “He'll be all right,” as if Hannibal were just sick or drunk. He knew the hall wasn't really deserted, but that people inside the Beltway were highly skilled at minding their own business.

In less than a minute they were in one of the underground parking lots that formed an amorphous network beneath Crystal
City. Hannibal knew this was the moment to make his move. The lighting was dim, there were plenty of cars to hide behind and there was no telling when someone might wander through. Given a few minutes to get his head together Hannibal knew he could easily take these three amateurs out.

Then he looked back at Cindy's face. It was the face of terror. Her wooden steps and shallow breaths revealed the predictable reaction of a good, law-abiding citizen who had never had a firearm pointed at them. He could not rely on her to move quickly or well, even if an opportunity came.

The shiny prod at her back was more than a fistful for its owner. The short-barreled .44 Magnum would deafen them all if it went off in the parking garage. More importantly, it was not a weapon that required a great deal of precision. If one of those bullets hit you anywhere, even peripherally, it would throw you to the ground. Against his will, Hannibal pictured Cindy's organs blossoming out of her chest in front of a .44 Magnum round fired at close range. No, putting her at risk of that was out of the questions. Besides, these guys were young, maybe even just big teenagers. They might not think through their reactions to any trouble he caused.

Hannibal offered no resistance, even when one of his escorts slammed him into the side of a small Toyota. Hannibal recognized their vehicle as a Rav 4, a compact Sport Utility Vehicle which, to him, was a contradiction in terms. Then the men holding his arms pulled him upright. Number Three swung into view on the other side of the vehicle, dragging Cindy by a fistful of her hair. Hannibal's gut clenched when he saw that man poke the barrel of his pistol against her temple. Her mouth dropped open but nothing came out but coarse panting. The men holding Hannibal tightened their grips. Now they were waiting for his reaction.

“It's going to be okay,” he said, forcing his voice to reflect his words. “They don't really want to hurt you. You're just here so they can control me. We'll be okay as long as they know I won't cause any trouble.”

The hands on Hannibal's arms relaxed a bit. The man on his left reached under his jacket and looked disappointed to find no gun under Hannibal's left arm. He smiled when he found it on the other side.

“Southpaw, eh?”

“Yeah, but my right works pretty good too. Want to see?”

The two men locked eyes and for a moment Hannibal thought he might get a chance to do some damage. If he caused enough confusion he might get close enough to Cindy's captor to separate them. But then, that man spoke up in a derisive tone.

“Just get him in the car, Darryl. Don't let him get you going.”

Hannibal gave it one more shot. “So this is your brother Darryl, huh? And over here, is this your other brother Darryl?”

That prompted the man on his right to slam a fist into Hannibal's ribs. Then he pulled Hannibal's arms backward and together so Darryl could wrap several layers of duct tape around Hannibal's wrists. Then Darryl opened the Rav 4's back door. His partner shoved Hannibal inside and followed him in. When they were settled the gunman opened the door on the other side and shoved Cindy in. Darryl got behind the wheel. The gunman took the passenger seat, his pistol casually pointed between Hannibal and Cindy. They moved like men who had worked together for a long time.

The little SUV pulled out of the garage and up into the dimming sunlight. When they slowed at the first corner Hannibal wished Cindy would jump out but he knew she wouldn't. She knew that would put Hannibal at risk, just as he knew that any move he made would make her the target. Each would avoid taking risks they might if they were alone, for fear of harm coming to the other. The simplest traps are the most elegant.

The gunman aimed his barrel between the bucket seats at Hannibal's navel and addressed his muscular partner.

“Find his phone, Nas.”

“Nas?” Hannibal asked while the beefy man poked into Hannibal's inside jacket pockets. “Really? They named you after a rapper?”

Both men ignored him. The gunman turned his gun an inch to Hannibal's right. “Give me your phone, shorty.”

“I don't have one.”

“Please,” he said, eyes rolling. “A bitch without a phone?” He snatched her purse with his free hand and dumped the contents in his lap. Cindy looked as if she had forgotten she was clutching her handbag until it was yanked out of her hands. The act seemed to hit her harder than having a gun to her head.

“Okay, okay, my phone is in there but you can't have that. I keep my notes, my records, all my contacts and their info in that thing. My whole life is in that device. How dare you?”

The gunman raised the barrel and pressed it forward, inches from Cindy's face. “I dare because I got the gun, bitch. If you didn't hang out with niggers like this you wouldn't be getting your shit snatched.”

Cindy ignored the gun, locking eyes with the gunman. “And if you need a gun and two friends to act all tough to a woman, you're the bitch.”

Behind the wheel, Daryl snorted. Nas reached between the seats to slap Cindy. He didn't have much leverage and she was still glaring at him after the blow. Hannibal leaned over to push his face between his woman and the pistol.

“Hey! You got a beef with me, bring it to me.”

The man sitting next to Hannibal clamped a hand around Hannibal's neck and pulled him back upright.

“We always handle our own beefs,” he snarled into Hannibal's ear. “We don't do other people's dirt, or hire ourselves out to…”

“Shut up, Eddie,” Darryl said from the driver's seat. His voice was soft but Eddie reacted as if he had been slapped. Hannibal sat back, leaned against Cindy trying to show support, and wondered about what had gone unsaid.

Hannibal watched the sun slip toward the horizon on his right while he tried to loosen the tape around his wrists and reviewed the events of the last few days. He had a big pile of facts and a few reasonable suppositions, but none of them led to even a good guess at what he most wanted to know right then. After watching the countryside fly past for the better part of an hour he finally asked.

“All right, I give up. Who are you guys, and why are you so mad at me?”

Eddie pulled off the highway and began to drive around through twisting streets as if he were trying to evade followers. “So you still don't get it, huh?” he said. “You must do so much bad shit you can't keep it all straight. No biggie. When we get to the house I'll lay it all out for you. After all, your bitch ought to know why this is going to be her final resting place too. Yours and hers, like it was almost his.”

A cold sweat defied gravity and ran up Hannibal's spine. The neighborhood began to look familiar, even in the gathering twilight. The perfectly groomed lawns held the massive homes back from the narrow street. He recognized a particular brick fronted house with a pillared entryway and enough yard around it that residents would never hear their nearest neighbor scream. As he vehicle crept down the darkening streets Hannibal knew where he was. But he still didn't know why.

Darryl pulled into the driveway that led to the mound of ashes and charred rubble Hannibal had so recently visited. Debris covered most of the footprint of the house, with blackened timbers looking as if they were trying to climb up out of what was once the basement level. On the left, the circular asphalt
path led to the remains of a three-car garage, growing up out of the remains like a disembodied limb. Actually only two walls of the garage remained. Darryl took the RAV4 into the grass to pull up behind the little structure. The stand of trees behind the house gave them a certain level of seclusion. When he cut the engine, Darryl turned a grim smile on Hannibal.

“Last stop. Time to get out and face the music.”

Eddie popped the door and dragged Cindy out of the car. She stumbled on the uneven ground but quickly righted herself. Nas opened the door on the other side and Hannibal managed to climb out despite his bound hands. He walked around to the other side of the vehicle to face his three captors. Night had fallen hard, without the moon rising. Distant streetlamps lacked the strength or the courage to reach into the darkness that surrounded them. With his back to the tree line Hannibal was a good hundred yards from the street. He might make such a run without getting hit by a poor marksman with a revolver. Cindy, not so much.

“Okay, why here?” Hannibal asked. “Why bring us to the remains of George Monroe's house?”

Darryl offered a hateful smile. “Because the perfect hiding place is the place that's already been searched. The law and the emergency crews have already picked all through this mess, so they know there's nobody else in there. Nobody's going look again. And tomorrow or the next day when they come to gather up all this shit, nobody will notice your two bodies jammed in there under all this crap. You'll just get hauled away with the rest of the trash. Kind of poetic too, don't you think? You made this mess, now you get to be part of it.”