Whistler's Angel (59 page)

“Can I believe you?”

“He’ll live long than you will, going after six men.”

“Let me ask you something else. Has he ever been shot?”

She said, “Adam, he’s fine. We were talking about Carla. She knows, by the way, what Claudia did. I know you’d prefer that I hadn’t told her, but it sold her on stopping whatever she was doing and agreeing to rendezvous with you. She thinks Claudia…never mind…I’m not sure what she thinks. Just make sure that she waits there with you.”

“What’s she driving?”

“A fuel truck. It says Texaco on it.”

“An actual tank truck?”

“From the airport. Don’t ask.”

Whistler peered up the road. He saw nothing coming. “We’ll wait. I’ll get back to you, Molly.”

“Leave Aubrey and those others for some other day. There’s no way to take six men quietly.”

“Walk away and leave Leslie?”

“Leave that to the police. If it’s true that Carla knows where they are, find out and call the police.”

He bit his lip. “Would you?”

“Yes, I would,” she answered firmly. “I’m asking you to back away from this, Adam. And you’d better brief Claudia on Carla.”

Poole’s assistant, Robert, had returned to the house by way of some woodlands and the neighbors’ back yards. Felix Aubrey had waited for him in the kitchen, unlocking the rear door to let him in. Briggs had remained in the living room out front to give warning when Kaplan’s car appeared.

Aubrey had given Briggs and Robert their instructions. He had spoken to each of them separately. Such a method, he realized, was not ideally efficient, but it did serve to make corroboration more difficult if this episode should go badly and if charges were filed and if one or both should try to cop a plea. Micro-managing again, but as they say, the devil is in the details.

Aubrey had agreed that it seemed only fair to let Mr. Briggs shoot Mr. Lockwood. No talking, however, until Lockwood was down. If Briggs then felt the need to discuss his motivation, he could do so while Lockwood was writhing. Robert was, simultaneously, to shoot Mr. Crow. He would do so because, as Aubrey had explained to him, Crow’s actions were destructive of all the good works to which Mr. Poole had devoted his life. He told Robert that Poole had asked God for guidance and that God had told Poole to send Crow to hell. And this, too, was to be done without prior discussion. The quicker, the better because then, if he wished, he’d have time to give Lockwood’s face a good slap before Lockwood was too dead to notice.

“Mr. Aubrey?” It was Briggs. “They’re just pulling in.”

Aubrey asked, “They’re together? All three?”

“All three. Their car’s in the driveway,” Briggs answered as he backed away from the window.

Aubrey touched Robert’s arm. “Are you up to your task?”

“Yes, sir.” Robert straightened. “I would die for Mr. Poole.”

“Not your turn. It’s theirs. Get out there. Be ready. I’ll be waiting here in the kitchen.”

“You’ll be watching?”

“No need. I have faith in you, Robert.”

Will I be watching, thought Aubrey? Of course not, you dimwit. I had no idea what you two intended. Must have been some private grudge. I was horrified, shocked, when I realized that you’d shot them. Unless, of course, all this goes without a hitch. In that case, I’m with you one hundred percent.

The first sign that there might be a hitch came from Briggs. He hissed, “There’s Lockwood. He’s getting out now. He’s walking up to open the garage
door. There it goes.”

Aubrey heard the muted grind of the door on its tracks and the thunk that it made when it stopped.

Briggs had dropped to a squat, the better to see, “Guy driving, striped jacket, that’s Kaplan, right? So that has to be Crow in the back.”

Aubrey said, “No doubt,” as he closed the kitchen door. Briggs stopped him by exclaiming, “What the hell…”

Briggs leaned forward. “There’s a fight. Crow’s jumping on Kaplan. He’s smacking the shit out of Kaplan. Hey, wait.”

Briggs moved closer to the window.
He said, “Damn. There’s some women. She’s jumping on Crow. Now Kaplan’s got Crow; he pulled him over the seat; and the woman is helping. She’s pushing Crow forward. No, wait. No, she isn’t. She’s trying to get past him. She’s got the door open. She’s trying to run.”

Aubrey stood frozen. “What woman? Whistler’s woman? Please tell me they didn’t…”

“I’m not sure,” Briggs told him. “I can’t get a clear look. There goes Lockwood. He got her. He grabbed her.”

“The Geller girl? Is it? You’ve met her. You’d know.”

Briggs said, “Still can’t see. He threw her back in the car. He reached in and punched her. No, he didn’t. He punched Crow. Now he slammed the door shut; he’s telling Kaplan to drive. He’s telling him to get into the garage. Kaplan’s arguing. Lockwood’s saying, ‘Shut up and get in there.’ There he goes. He’s driving into the garage.”

There followed a violent crunching sound. Its vibration was felt through
the house.

“What was that?” asked Aubrey.

“I don’t know,” replied Briggs. Then he added, “Oh, shit. You know what that was? Kaplan drove the car over that trailer that’s in there. The trailer with the Jet Ski. That’s why Kaplan was arguing. Kaplan knew the car wouldn’t fit.”

“Well, why didn’t…” Aubrey grimaced. He stopped himself. He was about to ask why they didn’t move the trailer…pull it out by hand…get it out of the way.
But the question was pointless. The damage had been done. Aubrey crossed the kitchen and looked out its side window. From there he could see why the whole house had shaken. The trailered Jet Ski had smashed through the rear wall. It had taken a work bench and some garden tools with it. Old paint cans were rolling across the back yard.

Aubrey said, “Get back here. Into the kitchen.”

Briggs told him, “The car’s not in all the way. They can’t close the
garage door. They left the whole rear end sticking out.”

Aubrey groaned within himself. He said, “Both of you. Get back here.”
He wanted all three of them well out of sight until he understood what was
happening.

Robert asked, “Who is that woman? Why do they have a woman?”

“I don’t know, Robert. Please go into the kitchen. Mr. Briggs, have they attracted an audience?”

Briggs asked, “Who, the neighbors? I don’t know; I don’t think so. I don’t see anybody looking out.”

“No traffic? No passing cars?”

“I don’t see any…wait…there’s an oil truck out there.”
\

“
Stopping?”

“N
o, passing. It kept going. We’re good.”

Robert said, “Those men have kidnapped an innocent woman. They intend to assault her. We can’t allow that.”

“They’re not likely to have time. Get in the kitchen.”

“Unless she’s a harlot. But she isn’t. She can’t be. If she were a harlot, would she try to escape them? She must be a virtuous woman.”

“Robert…in the kitchen. I’m sure that all will be revealed. Mr. Briggs, on second thought, stay where you are, but duck out of sight before they enter.”

Robert muttered, “This is wrong.”

“We will attend to it, Robert.”

“This must be prevented. It cannot be allowed.”

“Robert, try to keep in mind that they’ll be dead in two minutes. You are making a pest of yourself.”

Damned Lockwood, thought Aubrey. It must be the Geller woman. Lockwood had said that he wanted a crack at her first, so that Whistler would know what he’d done to her. And Lockwood had more than rape on his mind. He meant to cut her up before killing her.
Oh, the damned fool. So he’s gone out and snatched her. That must mean, one would think, that he’s already killed Whistler. Either way, he has started a war.

THIRTY FIVE

Whistler had chosen to say little about Carla. There was no quick way to explain her. He said only that Carla was experienced, but…well, different and needed to be handled with care. Claudia, in any case, hadn’t paid much attention. All she cared about now was finding Leslie.

Within moments, a fuel truck had appeared in the distance. As it neared, it almost seemed as if no one was driving. All that showed above the dash was a crescent of red hair and perhaps an inch or two of Carla’s forehead.

As Carla approached, she downshifted and slowed, nearly stripping the unfamiliar gears of the truck. She drove it past them to an opening in the center divider, made a U-turn and pulled in behind them. She climbed out of its cab as Whistler stepped from the Taurus. Carla looked even smaller than he had remembered her. He saw that her left eye was reddened and swollen. She was missing one of her shoes.

She said, “Hello, Adam. You’ve filled out. You’re very handsome.” She stepped around him and walked to the passenger’s side window. She said, “And this is Claudia? Hello, Claudia. I’m Carla.”

Whistler asked her, “Carla, do you know where they are?”

She answered, “Uh-huh,” without looking at him. She said to Claudia, while extending her hand, “I’m so glad to meet you. I’ve been hearing good things. I hope we can talk later on.”

Claudia took her hand and she returned Carla’s smile, but she didn’t seem to know what to make of this woman. Neither, for that matter, did Whistler. First we have Molly sounding nothing like Molly. Now here’s Carla sounding nothing like Carla.

Carla gestured toward the tote at Claudia’s feet. “What’s bulging? Weapons? What did you bring?”

Claudia lifted the sail bag to show the canvas tote’s contents. She said, “Just these. From the boat.”

“So you do work with guns? Not just knives? So do I.”

Whistler said, “She does not work with anything, Carla. You’ve got the wrong idea about Claudia.”

Carla gave him a glance, an if-you-say-so sort of glance, and returned her attention to the weapons. She said, “The sweeper will be good. What’s that other one, an Ingram?”

“Um…yes, that’s an Ingram Mac-10.”

Carla made a face. She seemed critical of the choice. She said, “You know what’s much better? You should try the new Calico. It’s the one with the top-mounted helical feed. Fifty round magazine. Never jams.”

“I…really only know about these.”