Kane drives through the gates onto the grounds of Olympus. He moves up the flag-lined road expecting the actor’s security staff to respond at any moment. Nothing happens.
He’s not entirely surprised. The world is full of incompetence. The only cure for incompetence is to eliminate the source.
It’s early morning. To the west, a fog bank dances along the shore of Malibu, but Kane knows the fog will burn off by midmorning. The day should turn warm and clear. It will be a good day to bury a thirty-year-old secret forever.
Donovan is probably still in bed. He plans to confront the actor in his bedroom. The fat fuck will beg for his life before he blows his brains out.
It will be the great actor’s final performance. Justice will be served. Kane’s only mistake was not killing the pig thirty years ago.
When he arrives at the residence, he notices a man coming up the driveway behind him in one of those stupid little golf carts. He’s wearing a blue jacket that says security and is armed.
The guard pulls up directly behind Kane’s car and gets out. In his rearview mirror, he sees the man is tall, over six feet and solidly built. The guard has a shaved head, except for a ponytail that swings back and forth as he walks up to the vehicle.
“Do you have a security pass?” Ponytail asks.
Kane smiles at the man. “Yes I do.” He brings the Glock 19 up and points it at the guard’s face. “It’s an all-day pass. It authorizes me to go anywhere I want, anytime.” Ponytail takes a step back. Kane sees the wheels turning. “Go ahead, pull the gun. Make my day, punk.”
He likes the variation on the
Dirty Harry
line and laughs. Ponytail is frozen. Kane gets out of the car and removes the guard’s weapon. He shoves his gun into the small of the man’s back.
“Let’s go have a chat with the wolf.”
“He’s not here,” Ponytail says.
Kane doesn’t believe the guard. They move inside the mansion where two more guards are stationed at the door. He uses Ponytail to convince the men to give up their weapons. The guards are cowards who shit their pants before Kane puts a bullet in each of their heads.
During a search of the bedrooms, he finds over a dozen people, most of them still in bed. He kills the cowards who beg for their lives and locks the others in the wine cellar with Ponytail. Then he moves back up the stairway, this time to the master bedroom.
When Kane opens the door, he finds the guard has lied. Donovan is in bed, snoring like a fat old bull. The covers are pulled over the actor’s head. He uses the Glock to pull them down.
“Shit!” He pushes the muzzle of the gun into the mouth of the actor’s son. “Where’s your father?”
The fat little fuck stirs, begins choking on the gun barrel. Bon Bon’s eyes pop open, like two brown pools of sewage. Kane pushes the gun deeper into the little asshole’s mouth. Donovan’s son gags, then vomits onto the bed when the gun is finally pulled back.
When his stomach is empty, Bon Bon rolls over and looks at Kane. “What do you want?”
Kane pushes the muzzle of the gun toward the young man again. He spits on him before smashing the butt of the pistol across his face.
“Son of the wolf. I want your father,” Kane screams.
Blood gushes from Bon Bon’s nose. He pulls a sheet up, trying to stop the bleeding. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything.”
The cell phone is pushed into Bon Bon’s hand. “Call Daddy, now. Any whimpering, crying, or begging, and you die.”
Bon Bon controls himself long enough to get his father on the line. He hands the phone to Kane.
“I have your son,” Kane says. “We need to talk.”
The actor’s voice is tight. “What’s going on? I thought we had things under control.”
“I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
“I’ve got a schedule I can’t break. I can be there tonight.”
Kane considers this. He’s hidden the gate guard’s body and locked up the grounds. No one can get in or out. He’s in control. All the guards except Ponytail are dead. The estate is his. He can spend the day entertaining himself before Donovan arrives.
“See you tonight,” Kane says. “Let’s make this interesting. Come to The Cavern when you get here.”
He ends the call and looks over at Bon Bon. The fat little shit is crying his eyes out again, his face full of blood.
“Let’s go downstairs and find your friends,” Kane says. “It’s party time.”
“This place gives me the collywobbles,” Natalie said to Pearl and me.
It was after sunset as we parked at Hollywood Forever Cemetery. The graveyard, located in the middle of the city next to Paramount Studios, was the final resting place for some of Hollywood’s biggest stars.
Natalie continued, “Clyde’s brother died last year. They had one of them open-lid ceremonies. Almost chundered me Cheerios when I saw the old chuffer. He looked like a happy sack that had been in the sun too long—all saggy and dried up.”
“Now that conjures up a visual,” Pearl said.
After my hearing, I’d spent the rest of the day with the investigators assigned to the Drake shooting. Pearl and I had both been interviewed and I provided the recording of the incident. We were confident the shooting would be considered justified.
We got out of Pearl’s car and walked through the crowd. I hadn’t slept in two days. The only thing keeping me going was coffee and the call I got from Brian Jankowitz, telling me I was to report to work in two days. He also mentioned the DA was reviewing the case against Jack Bautista in view of my recording and was likely to drop all charges.
I pointed to the black Mercedes coming up the driveway. “Here comes Cesar.”
We watched as Wolf Donovan got out of the car and made his way through the crowd, signing autographs.
Natalie went off as the crowd swarmed the actor, “Fat piece of clunge. Bet he hasn’t seen his lazy lob since the civil war. He looks like a fat log in a shit swamp. I’d like to grab him by the…”
“Natalie!” I turned and shook my head. Even Bernie looked like he was ready to cover his ears with his paws.
Some people might find it strange that a cemetery would show old movies on the wall of a mausoleum. But this was Hollywood and the memorial park was the final resting place for some of the world’s biggest stars.
This was also the place where Rudolph Valentino was buried. It was Donovan’s most famous role. He was here to introduce the recently released director’s cut of the movie and give a talk about the film.
“So are we here just to watch the bilge rat’s movie?” Natalie asked.
Pearl shook his head. “I did a little research and found out that Donovan was on the cemetery’s board of directors back in the early eighties. I also learned that, Pacific Trading Partners, the original corporation Harper and Carmichael formed, not only imported works of art, but also coffins made in Mexico. Donovan and his friends were likely using the caskets to bring drugs into the country.”
“When Pearl told me that,” I said, “I realized that the cemetery would be the perfect placed to bury a murder victim. The problem is, Hollywood Forever has thousands of graves. Carmichael’s final resting place could be almost anywhere.”
“Maybe they stuck him in a coffin with someone famous, like Bugsy Siegel,” Natalie suggested.
The former gangster was interred in the cemetery, but I doubted that he had a companion.
We listened as the famous actor began his talk about the movie. He ended the monologue, referencing the Lady in Black who leaves a rose at Rudolph Valentino’s tomb every year.
When the movie began, Donovan took a seat next to the film projector. We decided to hang back in the crowd. I didn’t want Natalie going off again on the famous actor.
As the film rolled, we watched the movie star in his younger and considerably slimmer days, portraying the life of one of Hollywood’s most eccentric stars. The film told the story of Valentino’s early life in Italy and Paris before he came to the United States and starred in dozens of films. The actor had died suddenly at age thirty-one, causing mass hysteria among his female admirers.
The movie was nearing the end when Donovan stood and began heading to his car. A standing ovation rose up. Natalie gave the actor a Bronx cheer before I could cover her mouth.
I didn’t see Donovan drive away. I didn’t see the crowd begin to gather their belongings and head out of the cemetery as the film was ending. I only vaguely heard Natalie say something about Donovan being a backdoor pile of bab. I was busy watching as the final scenes of the movie flickered over the wall of the mausoleum.
That’s when I noticed it. At first, I dismissed it as my imagination working overtime. Maybe it was just fatigue?
I shook my head, saying out loud, “No, I’m sure I saw his name.”
I motioned for Pearl and Natalie to join me. We moved away from the crowd.
“This might sound crazy, but I think I know where John Carmichael is buried,” I said.
“With Bugsy?” Natalie asked.
I shook my head. “There was a scene in the film, just before the mystery woman left the rose at Valentino’s crypt. The camera panned over the graveyard, past the rows of burial vaults, and across the mausoleum wall.”
As the film ended, I motioned for them to follow me to the burial vault. I pointed to where I thought I’d seen the name. The wall was blank, nothing but ancient, dried cement.
“There was a scene in the movie,” I said. “It was on screen for only a second or two. It was a vault that showed a date of birth and death. I can’t remember the birth date, but I remember the date of death was September 16, 1984. The name on the crypt was John D. Carmichael.”
Natalie scratched her head. “I’m a little bumfuzzled on this. Why would the big ball of bloat put Carmichael’s grave marker in his movie?”
“Ego,” I said. “I remember Jack telling me that Cassie Reynolds said something to him about it all being right there for everyone to see. I think this is what she meant.”
“It would be the ultimate head trip,” Pearl agreed.
“Remember when we were at his estate?” I said. “Donovan said something about even if he’d put what he’d done right in front of everyone’s eyes, he could never be caught. He also said that things from his past would remain buried forever. I think Wolf Donovan committed murder, put the clues to that killing in his most famous movie for the world to see, and got away with it.”
“Until now,” Pearl said, as my phone rang. It was Charlie.
“I just heard a call from dispatch on that new phone app of mine,” Charlie said. “There was a call from somewhere inside Wolf Donovan’s estate. Somebody on a cell phone said there’s a guy with lots of guns holding people hostage. From the description, it sounds like Nathan Kane.”
We ran for the car, nearly tripping over the grave markers as we went.
All the lights are killed, except those leading along the path next to the river running deep inside The Cavern. Nathan Kane follows behind his guests, offering encouragement in the form of a promise: instant death if they don’t do exactly as he says. There isn’t a single protest. His guests have already seen enough to comply with any demand.
It’s been a busy day. Kane has spent most of his time going down to the wine cellar. It’s fully stocked with a variety of expensive wines and champagne. He selects carefully, moving past the alcohol to the women being held hostage.
The sex is amazing. There’s nothing like a loaded gun to add a little spice in the bedroom. He’s used the weapon in a variety of ways.
After a few experiments, he finds his favorite activity is using the amyl nitrate he found in the actor’s bedroom along with the lethal sex toy. The drug gives the women a warm mellow feeling before sheer terror sets in at the realization they’re going to die. Kane decides he’ll have his own fully stocked cellar once everything is settled and he leaves the country.
When they reach the series of pools at the back of the cavern, his guests are ordered to stop. They clutch their sides, not making eye contact, probably expecting the worst. They have no idea.
He despises the actor’s bloated son most. Bon Bon has spent the day trying to barter for his life. Kane would have killed the fat toad hours ago if he wasn’t Donovan’s son.
Even Ponytail has lost his bluster. The muscle-bound bodyguard doesn’t make eye contact and seldom speaks. He’s been broken down like a little boy.
“I want every stitch of clothing off now,” Kane announces.
There is no protest. He watches as his guests strip down. In a moment, Bon Bon stands naked with the others, his belly distended like he’s swallowed a giant balloon.
Kane pokes the naked bastard in the stomach with his gun. “Ever think of going on The Biggest Loser?” There’s no response except sniveling.
When they’re all naked, he motions to the river of water. “In the water, now.”
They do as he says, some of them shivering and crying as they slip down into the ribbon of dark water.
Kane moves to the control booth at the side of the pool. He hits the strobe lights. The cavern flashes and pulses with color. Then he selects the music. He needs a nice beat with lots of bass. He settles on Ozzy Osbourne’s, “Shot in the Dark.” He hits a button and the cavern begins to throb with music.
As the strobes flash and the music blares, Kane strategically places his weapons, leaving one of the guns in the back of the cavern where the moving water dumps into a final chamber. He then removes his clothing and slips into the water. He waits, gun in hand, like a giant coiled snake ready to strike.
In a few minutes, he sees the light. It’s shining down the walkway from the entrance to the cave. The light begins to grow brighter. As it moves toward him, he sees it dancing around the cavern, illuminating the pool filled with naked bodies. Then the light stops, splashes back, and washes over the giant actor.
The Assassin grins in the darkness. The flickering light catches Kane’s long, sharp teeth for an instant. He is the bear and the Wolf is in his den. The bear brings the gun up and roars.