The Twelve Stones (27 page)

“
You, Mr
.
Howell, are exactly like these water molecules. The only reason you’ve survived this long was because you had a destiny to fulfill, to help me complete this task. Once it is complete, you’ll go on, completely unaware of the purpose your life served for my universe.”

Red’s face began to go white. He was beginning to understand. His life, and the lives of his workers, many of whom were friends, none of
them
meant anything to this psychopath.

“
Aha, so you do see,” Kline smiled.

Red didn’t even see him move. One moment, Kline was a dozen feet away, refilling the beat
-
up metal cup, and then, suddenly, Kline was next to him his hand racing for the fat foreman’s throat. Holding him under the jaw, Kline hoisted the pudgy man above his head
,
staring dangerously at Red’s squished face, which had changed from its normal cherry complexion into something more resembling freshly fallen snow. Kline brought Red’s face forward, his mouth against his captive’s sweaty ear.

“
Some people think the glass is half-empty,” Kline whispered into his ear, “And some people call it half-full.”

Red stood there, terrified, unable to move
.
T
he
pain was intense
.
T
he
world was growing dark. A halo of blackness spread around the sides of his vision.

His thoughts turned to the woman he had loved, the one who had betrayed their affair to her husband, hoping that her confession would save their marriage and thus, her access to his money. Red began to cry, the tears streaming down his fat face. To go through life unloved was the only true unforgivable sin, and here he was, about to lose the chance to live that dream. Thirty years later, Red Howell stood in a cave at the mercy of a madman, and completely removed from the life he had once wanted. Now, mourning that life he never had a chance to live, Red began to cry.

He was helpless in the hands of the freakishly strong billionaire. The powerful arms were like steel cables hoisting his
300
pounds with no more effort than tossing a rag doll in the air. Kline’s raspy English accent became his world.

“
And then there are people like me.” Kline enjoyed the fat man’s gasps; he could
feel every drop of his victim’s
life slipping away between his hands. The knowledge of that excited him. “There are people like me that come along, pour out your drink, and smash the empty glass over your head, leaving you to bleed to death.”

Red kicked, his feet grasping at the edge of the cave, looking to prop himself up.

Kline smiled dropping the foreman to the ground. Dusting himself off, Kline looked down at the fat man reduced to tears with no pity in his eyes. Kline sniffed his hand, still covered in
the fat man’s sweat
. It reeked of fear
, fear
of death. He inhaled
the rare aroma
,
slowly and deeply
,
then
smirked triumphantly at the fallen foreman.

“
I think you might be one of the glass-half-empty kind of folks.”

Red didn’t care what happened next. He wanted to be out, and done, home with someone special.

“
I’m sorry,” Red bawled, “I’ll do whatever you want, we’ll make it work, but please, you have to give me a little more time.”

“
Time you’ll have
,
Mr. Howell
.
” Kline’s voice was surprisingly kind. “I’m a reasonable man, and I’m not here to risk everything, so if you can get me to my specified coordinates within the next
36
hours, then you shall live to see another birthday.” Kline turned and began walking back towards his trailer, across from the entrance of the mine
,
calling back over his shoulder. “Remember Mr. Howell,
36
hours
.
T
ick tock.”

The other workers quickly lowered their eyes as Kline strode away.
Many of them
had stopped to watch
the surreal scene unfold
out of the corner of their eye. The workers in the tunnel nervously turned back to their tasks of cleaning their equipment, hurriedly attempting to look busy as they replaced parts and topped off fluids. Some were alarmed at the violence, but money was a powerful motivator for their loyalty
,
and whatever Red had done to anger Kline was none of their concern.

Two of the workers approached Red after Kline walked out of sight. Before they could even pretend to help, Red threw out his hands in frustration, waving the two of them off. He didn’t need their pity. With that deadline in front of them, they were going to need more than that. Red rubbed his raw and bruised throat
, wondering if he would ever
leave Joshua Tree alive.

“
You heard him,” Red yelled angrily, gasping for air at the same time. “Get back to work!”

Red wheezed and fell to one knee. Then he did something he hadn’t done in a long time, and began to pray for deliverance.

Kline entered the trailer his company had brought in for him to use. One part office, one part home, one part nerve center, Kline was able to run his entire empire from just this one command station. The attachment on the roof of his trailer allowed for even speedier travel if it was needed. A specially designed helicopter was used to move it quickly if there was a need for a quick getaway. Kline had never used the option
yet
, but a billionaire such as himself liked having more than one option for everything in his life.

As Kline approached his office, a young man stood hunched over, clutching a paper envelope tightly. The kid wasn’t more than eighteen or nineteen years old, Kline guessed, narrowing his eyes at the intruder. Hiring the local yokels had been Tate’s idea, and it wasn’t a bad one necessarily
;
it
was
just that many of his new recruits lacked the proper decorum in his presence.

He approached the young man
,
quickly growling as he did so, “What is it?”

The young man swallowed nervously. Removing the toothpick from his mouth, he flicked it away as he held out the envelope in his other hand wordlessly. Kline grabbed the package
,
quickly tearing it open. Inside was a small memory card, with a short note from Geoffrey Tate. Ignoring the note, Kline retrieved his PDA from his belt as he eyed the young man suspiciously.

“Where’d you get this?” Kline asked, as he inserted the memory chip.

“Mr. Tate told me to bring it back here for you, and that was it. I promise, I d
id
what I was told.”

Kline nodded absently, as the young man withdrew another toothpick from his pocket
,
sliding it into his mouth. Kline frowned at the complete lack of respect the kid showed him, but teaching the young man a lesson could wait for another time.

Pressing play on his PDA, he began watching the video. It didn’t take more than thirty seconds for him to open his cell phone and dial a number.

“
Get the chopper warmed up, and find Mr. Tate immediately; I need to speak with him.”

Chapter
Nineteen

Sienna Hutton had been the manager of La Rivera apartments for well over seven years now. Her job was simple
:
collect the rent each month
,
and keep the books and tenants in order. In exchange, the Armenian businessman who lived in Arizona allowed her to stay at one of the units completely rent free. The job was the definition of easy living. NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, the place where actual rocket scientists went to work, was just down the road
,
and La Rivera Apartments was an ideal location for many of them.

With the complex full of local scientists, it was a rare thing for Sienna to need to chase down a late rent payment. They all made good money, and generally stayed out of trouble. If one of the checks did end up missing one month, lack of money generally wasn’t the issue. Typically
,
it was an engineer who had buried himself too deep into his research and had simply forgotten the day of the month. It might have been cheaper for the Armenian businessman to have the tenants simply mail him their rent checks, but Sienna’s presence reassured the owner that his investment was safe. On her end, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Free rent for minimal work wasn’t easy to come by in the City of Angels
,
and she wasn’t going to let anyone or anything screw her situation up.

So it was with some annoyance that
she found
her customarily safe world rudely interrupted one night by the gate to her complex crashing open. At first her subconscious, still deep in REM sleep, had insisted it was
part of her
dream. But the shriek of protesting steel, bending and scraping against the concrete wall that lay directly against her interior bedroom wall
,
finally awoke her to reality.

Her eyes barely opened as they attempted to focus on the alarm clock across the room. It was 3:30 in the morning. Whoever had crashed into the gate was probably drunk or high on something
,
and Sienna wasn’t going to let them get away with destroying the Armenian’s apartment complex. Springing into action, she
resolved to
find out who the culprits were and make sure they paid for any damage. If she were going to catch them, she
knew, she
would have to move quickly.

Sienna shuffled over to the chair in her room where she had tossed her robe earlier after her nightly shower. Her hair was thick and curly and a bitch to dry, but the last thing she wanted was to catch a cold in the pursuit of the mysterious late
-
night vandals. Tossing on the thick pink robe, she tied it closed over her flannel pajamas and set out in pursuit of the culprit.

The door to her apartment opened as she peered outside in the dark night. The moon was low in the sky, unable to provide her much light. The apartment complex had a street lamp over the parking lot
,
but it had burned out long ago.

Sienna made her way down the sidewalk and tripped on some unevenly poured concrete in the shadows. She swore gently to herself as she made a mental note to call her boss and get him to spend some money on some overdue upkeep.

She turned the corner to her building and surveyed the damage to the gate in front of her. It was as she feared; the gate was broken wide open, barely hanging onto its busted hinges. She shook her head.

“Drunken idiots
,
” Sienna muttered to herself in the dark. She stepped closer to the ripped mass of steel bars and looked for any sign of the vandals. There wasn’t much left behind besides some dark marks where the tires had squealed in an attempt to gain traction as it took on the heavy gate.

Sienna yawned and looked around the small complex. She was tired, it was cold, and there was no sign of anyone. She tugged her robe closer around her shoulders and walked around the corner to the complex’s courtyard. What she
ought to
do
wa
s
go inside and call the police, she thought to herself, but she decided taking one look around couldn’t hurt anything. She felt in her pockets for her cell phone and mace. She was ready
.

After walking a hundred yards or so down the courtyard, she made it to the corner and peered around. It was then that she spotted four men standing outside one of her tenants
’
units. She squinted
,
trying to get a better look at
the unit’s number
. Sienna closed her eyes and imagined the master map that hung on a wall in her office. Counting with her fingers in the air, she finally settled on what number apartment they were standing in front of. Realizing who it was, she snorted in disgust
;
of course
,
it was him.

Scott Ermy had been a nice enough tenant, always on time with the rent
.
T
he
worst Sienna had to deal with
was occasionally having to
remind him when quiet hours began
,
and to turn down his television or music.

But if these marauding visitors that had torn down her gate were friends of his, Scott Ermy would be put on the quick path to eviction. A smile began to spread across her chubby face, despite the confrontation yet to come. She did love this part of her job. Yelling at men was second nature to a woman who raised five brothers.

She cleared her throat bracing herself and stormed over to the men in the Suburban, puffing her chest up, adopting her bitchiest attitude.