Survivor: 1 (27 page)

He looked through the peephole, couldn't see anything at first due to the brightness of the porch light, and
then a face swam into view.

Brad sighed and unlocked the door, opening it.
"Danielle," he said.

Danielle Kwong stood on the porch, dressed in a
black conservative business suit. Danielle was Lisa's
partner at the law office, and she and her boyfriend often accompanied him and Lisa to the movies or to dinner on sporadic FYiday evenings. "I'm sorry I can't talk,
Danielle," Brad said. "I was just getting some stuff
packed up."

"That's okay," Danielle said. Her tanned oval face was
bright and inquisitive, and despite her smile Brad could
read a sense of concern in her exotic features. "I was just
on my way home and thought I'd stop by to see how Lisa
was doing!

"She's better," Brad said, not bothering to step aside to
let her in, which he normally would have done. "But she's
not here now"

"Oh. "A hint of disappointment in her voice.

"I'm sorry," Brad said, feeling awkward in his treatment
of her. Billy's words echoed in his mind. Pack your things
and wait for me. Don't tell anybody where you're going.
"It's just that I'm short on time and I'm already running
late. When Lisa gets home, we're leaving straight for the
airport."

"Where are you going?"

Las Vegas is a big place, he thought. It's not going to
hurt to say we're going away for the week, is it? Brad decided it wouldn't hurt to tell Danielle at least that much.
After all, she was a close friend and she'd been concerned and shocked at what happened to Lisa. She had
volunteered to run errands for Brad and told him numer ous times that she was there if they needed help or just
wanted somebody to talk to. Danielle Kwong was the
definition of the word Mend. He could trust her. "We're
going to Vegas for a week. We need to get away and
just ... relax. You know?"

Danielle smiled. "I know. And you guys need the vacation. Well, tell Lisa I stopped by and that I hope she's feeling better. Maybe you can have her call me at the office?"

'Of course," Brad said.

"Okay." Danielle stepped off the porch. "'Thanks. Bye!"

"Bye" Brad closed the door after her.

When the door was closed, Brad leaned against it. I
didn't fuck up by telling her where we re going, did f?
Billy's paranoia was starting to rub off on him. Whom
could Danielle tell that would alert the murderous scumbags who had almost killed Lisa? Danielle and Lisa
worked in Family Law, not Criminal Justice. Lisa spoke
highly of her colleagues; he was certain that if William
Grecko wasn't a loyal and trusted friend and ally, they
could rely on a number of lawyers in Lisa's firm to help
them. Danielle Kwong maybe, or Kyle Bennett. Hell, Lisa
was friends with George Brooks, one of the senior partners. 'There was no end to the resources they could tap
into if they hadn't been blessed with Billy's friendship.
Besides, Billy Grecko was getting them out of town as a
precaution. As he'd told Brad on the phone this afternoon, "I don't think these guys will be coming after you,
but I want to play it safe. Most likely they're lying low right
now. They won't be stupid enough to try to go after you
this quickly. If we can get some solid leads in Big Bear,
we'll be on their trail quickly and then we'll have them in
jail where they belong'

We N be fine, he thought as he checked the lock on the
front door and retreated to the bedroom to resume pack ing. By eleven we'll be on a plane to Vegas and Billy will
have somebody there to meet us and take us to wherever
it is we're staying. Even if somebody finds something out
through Danielle-which is impossible-they'll have a
hard time finding us in Las Vegas. Billy is probably going
to have us in some safe house or a hotel under assumed
names or something. We'll be safe.

Brad finished packing and waited for Billy and Lisa to
come home.

"So talk to me."

"Al's body'll never be found." Tim Murray grinned. The
minute he entered Rick Shectman's office, he had settled
his bulk down on the lime-green chair in front of the cluttered desk. He had only been awake for two hours. Last
night had been an intense whirlwind. "Remember the
movie Pulp Fiction?"

Rick Shectman looked indifferent. "Vaguely."

"A buddy of mine owns a scrap-metal yard in San Fernando," Tim continued. "I gotta key to his place. It's way
the hell out in the middle of an industrial center. Me and
Animal went out there around four in the morning. The
best thing about it is that his shop is right next to an airport." Tim laughed. "There ain't no houses or anything
anywhere near this place. And he runs so much shit
through that yard, junked cars and shit. In fact, I've done
some work for him ... set him up with a few films. Anyway, he'd made it clear to me a while back that if I ever
needed his services for disposal I could count on him. I
called, and he agreed to meet us there bright and early at
six-thirty when he opened up shop. Animal and I got
there early and I found a vehicle on the premises that was
set for destruction. Animal cut Al up ... you know ... dismembered him and shit before we threw the pieces in the
trunk of the car." Tim tried to hide his revulsion as he re membered what else Animal had done before wrapping
Al's headless torso in a dirty blanket and placing it in the
trunk. He'd seen Animal cut holes in people's sides before and fuck them during torture sessions, but he'd
never thought of a neck stump as a sexual orifice before
last night. Animal's excuse had been Might as well fuck
another hole before we crush him up like a pancake. Besides, who'll know? Strangely enough, Tim hadn't gotten
sick watching Animal stick his dick down the gray tubing
of esophagus that was sticking out of Al's bloody neck
stump and pumped away. He had gotten sick, however,
thinking about what Animal had done to that infant;
those images came to him unbidden now, and they had
come last night while watching Animal violate Al's headless corpse. It had taken all of his willpower to not throw
up. "Anyway," Tim continued, looking at Rick, trying to
fight back the images, "we just cut him up and put him in
the trunk and waited for Mark"to show up. When he
came in he didn't ask questions, just moved the car in for
destruction with a bunch of others and we watched as he
and the first-shift supervisor mashed those cars to little
chunks of metal. The car we put him in wound up being
mashed with four other cars into a metal cube about four
by four feet!

"I surely hope no offending bodily fluids leaked out of
this metal cube," Rick said.

"Nah!" Tim said. "Whatever leaked out looked like oil.
And Mark, he don't give a shit. He owed me a favor, and
something tells me he's done this kind of thing before."

Rick nodded. "What about Al's vehicle?"

"We left it in East LA," Tim said, chuckling. "Left the
keys in the ignition. AI'd shit if he found out his precious
Pbrsche is probably cut up into spare parts now by a
bunch of wetbacks."

"Good.", Rick leaned back in his chair and appeared to be thinking. He stared at the ceiling. Tim tried to relax
but couldn't. It was hard to relax in Rick Shectman's presence. After all, that could have been me last night, he
thought. It could be me sooner than Id like if f fuck up
again.

This train of thought was one of the reasons why he
was getting out. After this next job, he was over the hills
and far away. The incident at the cabin had been the last
straw. It wasn't so much his own fuckup of not putting his
foot down when Al had told him Sam changed his mind
about the Miller bitch Sam had been pretty explicit
when he gave Tim the job, and he realized now he
shouldn't have let Al manipulate him. He should have
questioned Al more thoroughly. Al should have just fucking done his job, no questions asked, but he was a greedy
fuck. No, it wasn't that narrow escape. The real reason
was that ever since watching what Animal had done to
that baby, and Al and Rick's indifference to it all, he realized that he wasn't wired like they were. Those guys were
fucking ruthless; they didn't give a shit about anything.
Tim wasn't like them; sure, he didn't care if some homeless junkie fell under Animal's knife-they were going to
die anyway from alcoholism or AIDS or pneumonia,
right? But that last job had affected Tim in ways he never
thought it would. At first he'd been okay with it; it had
been simple. Find this Lisa Miller bitch, separate her from
hubby, and get her to the cabin and have her all nice and
pretty for Al and Animal. No problem. But then Debbie
Martinez had come along and spoiled things, and then
Lisa had manipulated them by dangling that homeless
chick and the baby in front of them. The way Animal's
eyes had lit up at the mention of the baby, the way Al had
nonchalantly agreed ... it had bothered Tim in a way
none of the snuff jobs had bothered him before. And
Rick ... well, that bastard would have his own children slaughtered for money. Tim knew the douche bag forced
his son into some of the child pornography he churned
out. Shit, the fucker had tied the kid down and had him
sodomized by a Doberman for a bestiality film. Kid was
ten years old and was a fucking loony now because of all
the shit he'd been through. The woman Rick had him
with had been a crack head and was probably dead, and
Rick's current girlfriend, who normally took care of the
kid during the day, didn't give a shit about him. She spent
most of her time drinking in bars and fucking anything
with a dick. Tim wouldn't be surprised in a few years if
Rick used the kid in a snuff film after the poor little bastard started spiraling into drugs and alcohol. It would be
just like him.

That's why it was getting to him. Previously, Tim Murray
hadn't given a shit about the people they'd used. The difference was that they'd been adults; well, most of them
had been. Those who hadn't had been confused, scared,
fucked-up runaways who were on their way down. That's
why Tim always chose them-they were going to die anyway or wind up as some dirty, shit-smelling, pee-stainedclothes-wearing, rotten-teeth, motherfucking hom~!Iess
sad excuse for a human being that you always saw nowadays cluttering up big cities. Who the fuck needed them?
He'd never felt bad about using people like that, procuring the dregs of society for the torture and snuff films he,
Al, and Rick produced.

But this last one ... a fucking baby! That was just too
much. The homeless chick they'd picked up ... yeah, he
could see that, although as time had gone by he had come
to disagree with it. Tim Murray had done some thinking
about what had gone down the past two weeks, and if he'd
had to do it over again he would have shut that Lisa Miller
bitch up with a good blow to the head, then waited till she
woke up and let Animal have her. He wouldn't have let her whine and plead the way she had, wouldn't have let her
manipulate them into turning Al and Animal's attentions
on the homeless chick and her kid. That homeless chick
wasn't like the others he'd gotten.

Homelessness was just a temporary displacement for
her; he could tell the way she'd fought them in the van on
the drive to the mountains, the way she'd been dressed
when they'd picked her up, the way she'd pleaded for
them not to hurt her baby. She wasn't a fuckup, her mind
wasn't blasted by drugs. She'd been coherent, sane, and
totally aware of what was going on.

And the only thing she'd been worried about was her
baby. The look on her face as she'd cried and pleaded
with them not to hurt her daughter ... it had brought
that long-buried memory of what his father had done to
Binky rushing to the surface, and he knew that he was
dealing with people who were so ruthless, so brutal and
cold, that even the death of a baby wasn't enough to satiate them.

"I've decided to use somebody else in getting Ms.
Miller and her husband," Rick mused, breaking Tim's
thoughts.

"Oh?" He looked up, feigning normalcy. This was new
to Tim. He had been gearing himself up for staking the
Miller place out with Animal and making a move within
the next few days. Ever since Rick had begun talking to
him about finishing the job, Tim had been mentally
preparing himself for it to be his last.

"Lisa will recognize you if she sees you," Rick Shectman said, glancing at Tim. "Even though you've shaved
and cut your hair and everything, she'll recognize you. If
anything went wrong and she got away, that would be the
end of it. I can't afford to have you caught."

"I understand," Tim said. He felt a little let down about
the decision. He was actually looking forward to getting back at Lisa for escaping and putting him through this
shit. If she hadn't manipulated them like this, that homeless chick and the baby would still be alive and Tim
wouldn't be contemplating a move that might get him
killed. Then again, if this hadn't happened, Tim wouldn't
have seen Rick and Al for what they were: rustless motherfucking scum who didn't give a shit about life. "Is there
anything I can do to help?"

"You're certain Lisa saw Animal?" Rick asked.

Tim nodded. "Yeah. He wasn't wearing his mask the afternoon we, went there to make the film. They even
talked a little bit." He laughed. "Bitch wanted to know
what he got out of torturing people. Lake she wanted to
fucking understand how a guy like Animal works."

"Do you understand how Jeffrey works, Mr. Murray?"
Rick Shectman wasn't smiling.

Tim's laughter faded. The image from last night and
the last job flashed through his brainpan. "No. I'm afraid I
don't. I don't understand how a guy gets off by fucking
dead people's neck stumps and tearing babies apart with
his bare hands."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "Fucking dead people's neck
stumps? You don't say."

"Yeah" Licking his lips, Tim told Rick a simplified version of what Animal had done before Al's corpse was
turned into sheet metal. Talking about it seemed to lessen
the grotesque nature of it.