The Rock 'N Roll Detective's Greatest Hits - a Spike Berenger Anthology (31 page)

“Are you Chucky Tools?”
“Ya man! Ya!”

Berenger turned him around and said, “I’m not the police. I’m worse. I want some answers and I want them fast. If you cooperate I’ll leave and you’ll never know I was here. I warn you, though, I’m known to play rough if I don’t get what I want.”

“Sure, man, sure. What do you want t’ know?”
“Tell me what goes on at the Messengers’ rituals. How do you brainwash the members?”

“Brainwash? We don’t brainwash—”

Berenger slapped the man hard. “Don’t lie. I know how you lace the wine with drugs. What are they?”

“Shit, man.” Tools rubbed his cheek. “Dat hurt.”

“That was just a love tap because I like you. If you make me mad I can’t be responsible for what happens next.”

“Okay, okay. We put Reverend Theo’s special mixture in de wine. But only for de members we want t’ influence. You know.”

“No, I don’t know. What’s in the special mixture?”

“Mostly X, man.” Ecstasy. MDMA. A powerful and illegal drug that breaks down inhibitions and encourages emotional responses from the users.

“What else?”

“Sodium Pentathol. De reverend mixes it just right.”

Berenger thought as such. Sodium Pentathol, the so-called “truth serum,” most likely exacerbated the symptoms produced by the Ecstasy. After an extended and carefully dispensed regimen of such a mixture, users would believe anything they’re told.

“And what happens when the members are thoroughly stoned on the stuff?”

Tools held out his hands. “Man, de Reverend does all dat. He’s de master. During de sessions he treats dem like patients, man. You know, like he’s a psychiatrist or somethin’. He lays all kinds of guilt trips on dem and dey have what he calls emotional breakthroughs. Most of dem end up in tears and beg de reverend to let dem help de Messengers any way dey can.”

“I take it the drugs are used only on rich members? The ones who’ll give money to the Messengers?”

“Pretty much.” Tools was truly frightened and wasn’t about to lie now. “What are you going t’ do t’ me?”

“Tell me about Flame. Do you remember Flame?”

“Sure, everyone knows Flame here. He’s de biggest star dat ever came t’ de Messengers.”

“Tell me about his visits.”

“Well, dat was a long time ago. I don’t know. Four or five years, maybe six…”

Berenger opened the backpack, removed the SIG, and stuck it in Tools’ face. “You better start remembering.”

“Okay, okay!” Tools raised his hands. “Flame came and was here, I don’t know, two or three weeks de first time. He came back with some of his people de second time and stayed longer. He went through de treatments just like everyone else and came out a true believer. He pledged his life t’ de Messengers.”

“The reverend just wanted Flame’s money, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Who came with Flame that second time?”

“I don’t know. His manager, I think. Bald guy.”

“Al Patton?”

“Dat’s him. Ya, Al Patton.”

“Who else?”

“Well, by dat time he was with Brenda. Dey never left each other’s sides.”

“Who else came with him from New York?”

“Dat’s it. Just her and de bald guy. Mistah Patton couldn’t get into it. De drugs didn’t affect him and he left after a couple of days. That happens with some people. Anyway, he said he felt sick or somethin’. He never came back. De driver took him back t’ Montego Bay t’ catch a plane back t’ New York.”

“The driver? Flame’s driver? You mean Ron Black?”

At the mention of the Black’s name, Tools’ eyes widened. It was as if he had let something slip and regretted it. “Er… Ron Black? No, I don’t think I know dat name.”

Berenger thrust the barrel of the SIG into Tools’ nose. “Yes you do,” he said.

“Er, ya, I guess I do. He worked for de Messengers. Long time. But he started workin’ for Flame by de time Flame came back dat second time.”

“And now he’s back with the Messengers. Okay, Mister Tools, I have one more question to ask you. Very recently Reverend Theo sent you an e-mail and he said someone in your organization was messing up. You replied, saying that he should remember who became ‘very friendly’ during a retreat. Who exactly did you mean?”

Tools winced and almost started to cry. “Oh, man, if I tell you dat, my life, it be worthless!”

“If you don’t tell me, in a minute from now you won’t have a life at all.”

Tools’ eyes darted back and forth furtively as he made sure no one else was listening. “It was Mistah Patton and Ron Black. Dey hung out t’gether de two days dat Patton was here.”

Berenger lowered the gun. His instincts told him that Tools was telling the truth.

“Just who the hell
is
Ron Black, anyway?” he asked.

Tools gulped loudly and whispered, “A very bad man.”

O
n the morning after Berenger had infiltrated the Messengers’ Jamaican headquarters, Suzanne Prescott sat in her Rockin’ Security office, intently studying several photographs of Flame that she had spread out on the desk. Of the eight pictures, seven were recently shot candid group settings. Brenda Twist was with him in every pose. She clung to his arm like a dutiful companion but there was something about the body language that wasn’t right. Having studied a number of Eastern philosophical tenets, Suzanne was in tune with the various emotional signals the body exhibited. It went hand in hand with yoga and martial arts.

The couple’s body language indicated that she was the one in control of the relationship. Brenda was the dominant force working between them. Suzanne wondered how such a young woman could have that kind of influence on a powerful and famous rock star like Flame, but there it was.

Another photo showed Flame posing with Al Patton, one of the most famous manager/producers in the music business. The two men had their arms around each other and were smiling for the camera. The flash had produced a shiny glare on Patton’s bald head. Suzanne found it funny and chuckled.

Flame was with Reverend Theo in another shot, surrounded by other members of the Messengers. None of the sycophants faced the camera but instead focused solely on the reverend and his star recruit. Theo was smiling his award-winning grin and Flame appeared to be in awe of the man.

Suzanne squinted when she noticed the other bald head at the back of the group. It was Ron Black, the driver. She reached into a desk drawer and removed a magnifying glass. Holding it above the photo, she examined the man more closely. It struck her as odd that Black’s head was very similar to that of Al Patton’s. Both men were bald and the shape and size of their skulls were strikingly similar.

That wasn’t all that impressed her about Black. He was the only one in the group, other than Flame and the reverend, who was looking at the camera, and there was a snarl on his face.

I’ve seen that snarl before
, Suzanne thought.
But where?

She looked over the photos to see if Black was in any of the other shots but that was the only one. She needed to see him again in person, close up if possible. The first time she had met him there was something familiar about the guy that gave her the creeps. What was it?

She had to find out.

F
lame’s limo wasn’t parked anywhere near the Messengers’ church so she decided to go into the pizza parlor across the street and wait for a while. Perhaps Black was out on an errand or something. She got a slice and sat where she could watch through the window and monitor the comings and goings. Twenty minutes went by before the limousine pulled up in front of the church.

Ron Black got out of the driver’s seat, trotted up the steps to the front door, and went inside. Suzanne stood, waved goodbye to the pizza chef, and left the restaurant. She was determined to talk to the man even though he frightened her. But that was the point—Suzanne needed to know why he scared her.

Before she could cross the street, however, Black emerged from the church and ran down the steps to the limo.

“Mr. Black?” Suzanne called, but the man didn’t hear her. He had already slammed the door and started the engine. The limo rolled out into the street and picked up speed.

At that moment a taxicab was approaching from the end of the block. Suzanne thanked her lucky stars and raised her hand. When the driver pulled over, she got in the back seat and said, “Can you follow that limousine without being seen?”

The Middle Eastern driver shrugged.

“There’ll be an extra twenty in it for you on top of the meter plus a generous tip.”

The driver sped after the limo, which drove east across Eighth Avenue, through Broadway, and then past Seventh. At Fifth Avenue it turned south and the cab driver deftly did the same. When the limo reached 42
^nd
Street, it slowed slightly and moved over to the east side of the avenue. It eventually stopped in front of the Liquid Metal Records building.

Al Patton came out the front door and rushed to the limo. He got in the front passenger seat and Black drove away.

Holy moley
! Suzanne thought. Ron Black and Al Patton together? What was
that
all about? She doubted they were going to a convention for bald men.

“Keep on them,” she told the driver.

The driver nodded. He obviously enjoyed the challenge.

The limo turned west to Sixth Avenue and then headed north. The taxi stayed a good hundred feet or more behind it. When the limo reached Central Park, it made a left and then turned north on Broadway. At one point the taxi driver almost lost them because of a sudden red light he was unable to run. The limo drove nearly six blocks ahead of them before the light turned green. The cab driver stepped on it to make up for the lost ground by speeding through three yellow lights.

“You’re doing great,” Suzanne told the driver.

The limo eventually reached the area around Columbia University. At the corner of Broadway and 114
^th
Street, it pulled to the curb and stopped.

“Pull over,” Suzanne ordered her driver. “Don’t let them see you.” The driver complied and moved into a loading zone four car lengths behind the limo. For a few moments nothing happened. No one got out of the limo.

Then, out of nowhere, Joshua Duncan appeared on the sidewalk. He looked into the passenger side of the limo, spoke a few words, and then got into the back. Then the limo moved into traffic and turned east.

“Follow them!” Suzanne commanded.

Jumping jackrabbits
, she thought. Joshua Duncan, Al Patton, and Ron Black together in one place. How could these three diverse people be friendly with each other? It was true that Joshua was going to be the owner of Flame’s business. Perhaps Patton was courting him? Some kind of major deal was taking place? But why was Ron Black involved? Was he merely a chauffeur? But that didn’t make any sense because
he
worked for the Messengers now. Didn’t he? And why couldn’t Joshua and Patton meet in Patton’s office?

The limo entered Central Park. The taxi driver did his best to follow them along the winding roads without alerting Black that the limo was being followed. When the limo backtracked and began retracing its route, Suzanne realized that Black was aimlessly roving through the park, making circles. The men inside
were
having a meeting and they were doing it in private.

At one point the limo sped under an overpass just as a flock of bicycles soared across the road in front of the taxi. The driver was forced to stop as the cyclists waved in gratitude. But the damage was done. When the cab finally slipped under the overpass and saw the three-pronged fork in the road and no limousine, Suzanne knew they had lost it.

“Damn,” she said.

“I am sorry, madam,” the driver said. “Maybe they went that way?” He pointed to one of the forks and Suzanne replied, “No, forget it. Just take me back to the spot on Sixth Avenue where the limo picked up the first man. Okay?”

The driver nodded and made his way out of the park.