Luthecker (11 page)

“We’re never gonna find him like this.” Stern vented. He turned to his partner.

“Brown’s really got a hard on for this guy?” He asked.

“I think Brown’s upset he got burned.”

“Then why won’t he give us the tools? He won’t even let us look at the transcript from the interrogation. What does he expect?”

“He expects us to figure it out.”

“How many times you looked for this guy?”

“Third time in L.A. It’s usually the gig you get between real ops. Personally, I think he’s dead. That’s why I think Brown likes to rotate in the new guys, use it as a training op. Although he won’t admit it, I think he suspects Luthecker might be dead too.”

Stern mulled over the information Wolfe had just shared with him. A smile crept across his face. He looked back at Wolfe.

“No. He doesn’t. How old is this Luthecker cat?” He asked.

“He’d be twenty-five.” Wolfe responded.

“And how old are you?”

“Thirty-eight, and don’t fucking ask again, it’s rude.”

“What’re you, a girl?”

“What’s your fucking point?”

“My point is we’re doing this wrong.” Stern said, as he took one last look over the city streets.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s get in the car. I’ll explain what I mean.”

“Try me now.”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Cause you’re gonna get me a cup of coffee first.”

Stern threw a “fuck you” smirk his partner’s way before walking back to the car.

TRAINING

A
lex carefully made his way up the rectangular web of enormous steel girders, the moonlight reflecting off the freshly welded metal in an uneven pattern. Sweat poured down his face as he gripped his thighs around the edges of the thick vertical I- beam as tightly as he could, using one of the massive bolts that held the ninety-six-story skeletal frame work that would soon be a luxury private apartment complex together as a foothold. He pushed off the bolt with his left foot and simultaneously reached up with his right hand to grab onto the top lip of the horizontal beam above his head, the one that would someday be the sixty-first floor of the planned one hundred-story building, when complete. He took a deep breath for energy as he then latched his left hand onto the steel rail above and pulled himself up and onto the beam, crawling onto its narrow flat surface and slowly standing upright. He held steady on the continuous vertical girder a moment as he caught his breath. He tried not to look down to the ground, hundreds of feet below. He was reminded of the black and white photos taken during the construction of the Empire State Building in New York City in early 1931, the ones where Mohawk iron workers casually ate lunch or took naps on steel beams much like this, hundreds of feet up in the sky, and wondered in awe as to how in the hell they did it.

He carefully looked up and saw that he was one floor below Yaw and Camila, the full moon providing a surprising amount of illumination. He could hear that Chris Aldrich was one floor below and quickly gaining on him, so he continued his climb upward.

It was close to midnight, and Master Winn had changed the dojo address yet again, this time to the most challenging locale yet, the sixty-third floor of this high-rise construction located in the Wilshire Corridor of West Los Angeles. At this point merely a skeletal framework, it was being built and paid for by a Saudi oil Prince for him and his family, an enormous private residence that would eventually have views all the way to the Pacific. During the day it was swarming with workers, the nearby giant construction cranes in constant motion as the half-billion dollar structure was being pushed for completion in record time. But now, at midnight, workers were gone, and all was quiet. A temporary storage platform lay on the sixty-third floor that consisted of an 80x90 plywood outlay that housed tools and equipment, and it was on this platform that Master Winn told his most advanced students that tonight’s class would be held. It was up to them to find their way to the dojo, as the elevators did not go above the sixtieth floor, requiring the students to climb the erector-set like outlay the last three.

Alex inch-wormed his way up the final steel rail, alternately holding himself steady with his legs and pulling himself upward with his arms. The edge of the construction platform was within reach and as he grabbed it with his right hand, a massive black paw wrapped completely around his forearm, locked on it tight, and yanked him up hard and high, causing him to arc through the air and land with a thud onto the plywood surface.

Yaw stood over Alex, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thanks, buddy.” Alex said to Yaw, as he rubbed blood back in his forearm.

“Anytime, Doctor Alex. You know I got your back.” Yaw said to him as Alex stood up, straightened out his Gi, and removed the Kali sticks that were strapped to his back. He looked over at Camila, who held her right wrist with her left hand, wincing a bit from pain.

“It’s fine.” She brushed him off before he could say a word.

“Wish you fools’d just stop asking.”

She nodded to the corner of the platform, where a coil of ropes lay.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be easier on the way down. We can use those to drop straight down on top of the elevator, and take it to the bottom. Easy-peasy.” She said with a forced smile.

Aldrich crawled up onto the platform just as Master Winn emerged from the shadows.

“Are you ready to begin?” He asked them all.

His four top students answered by gathering their things and standing in a half circle in front of their instructor.

Master Winn began all group lessons with a theme, a goal in mind, an overall philosophy for the days’ training, and today would be no different. Strong winds made the metal framework groan as Winn stood in silence at the head of the circle. He waited until the wind died down, and let the quiet stand a moment longer before he finally spoke.

“Today we explore yet another meaning of the Taijitu.”

Winn began to pace as he let those words sink in to his student’s minds. The Taijitu, most commonly known in the West as the black and white symmetrical teardrops housed in a circle and commonly referred to as the Yin-Yang, was one of the oldest and most recognized life symbols of ancient Taoist philosophy. It represented the poles of existence, opposite, but complimentary, and many of Master Winn’s lessons began with some interpretation of its meaning.

“Since the dawn of time, humanity has sought to define the duality of all existence. And each belief system has its way.” He began.

“Religion, has its Good and Evil. Science, its Positive and Negative. The Stars, Day and Night. And life, Male and Female.”

Winn scanned over his students.

“Today’s training, deals with the most important interpretation of duality that a warrior must be able to face; both in himself, and his opponent.

The duality, of Truth and Deception.”

At this point they all noticed the strip of black cloth Master Winn held in his hand.

“If one is deceived, by the self or another, one is truly beaten. Therefore, the true enemy of the warrior, indeed of life itself…is the lie. In all its forms.”

Master Winn carefully wove his way between his students, his hands clasped behind his back.

“So the question arises, how does one know the truth, how does one trust, when many in the world gain their power through deception?” Winn asked, to none of them in particular, a rhetorical question used to set up the answer that would define the evening’s theme.

“one who deceives himself is already lost. So one must learn to know the self and trust the self first. And the warrior does this by trusting his instincts. Trusting the discipline of his training. And trusting the code of conduct his honor requires.” He answered.

“If he is true to these things, then the enemy, the lie, will hold no power over him.”

He handed the black strip of cloth to Alex.

“Today’s practice is about deception against trust.” He commanded, as he stood back from Alex, leaving him with the simple black strip in his hand.

“There will be one attacker and one defender. There will be one whose job it is to deceive. And there will be one to observe it all.”

Winn looked at Alex.

“And the defender, shall be blindfolded. Now pick up your sticks.”

• • •

Alex stood in darkness, a defensive stance, the thick black cloth of the blindfold wrapped around his head, carefully twirling his Kali sticks at the ready.

The rules of the drill were simple: Alex was to defend against a circling attacker. For this drill, Master Winn chose Yaw to be the attacker.

The attacker was allowed one strike, and one strike only- an overhead swing arched high to come down directly on either shoulder. Ultimately an easy strike to parry, but the strike itself was not the point. The point was how Alex reacted to the deceiver.

The deceiver, Camila in this case, would call out the direction from where the attacker was to strike from, both cuing the attacker to move and allowing the defender a split second to react. The challenge was that she was encouraged to mix truth with lies.

“Left.” Camila called out, and Alex immediately moved opposite and parried to the right, the crack of the sticks echoing through the night air.

Yaw smiled, and kept circling Alex. “Not bad, my man, not bad…”

Alex kept calm and listened carefully. He knew that this would be an easy exercise for him. Mostly because Camila was a lousy liar.

When people told a lie, not only was there a barely perceptible change in tonality in their voice, there was always at the very least a microsecond of hesitation, as their minds instinctively formulated both the necessary detail of the false information along with what the lies impact on the story they were trying to sell as a whole would be on their desired overall goal. Deception required much more thought and process than truth, and thought process took time. With those skilled in deception the delay was nearly impossible to detect. However with those uncomfortable with anything but the truth, it was audible to even the most basically skilled observer.

“Front.” She said next, and Alex immediately spun low with a foot sweep, behind him, knowing that that was where the target would be. He connected cleanly on both his opponents’ ankles, and Yaw’s legs were quickly out from under him, sending his muscular frame to the plywood flooring with a crash.

Yaw immediately rolled to his feet, smiling, and stood directly in front of Alex.

“Front” Camila quickly shouted out, telling the truth this time, audibly more loud and clear, and Yaw swung the stick high.

Alex parried, and Yaw began to circle yet again.

“This is too easy for him.” Aldrich reacted. He then turned to Camila, “Not to mention you suck at this.”

“I don’t like to lie to my peeps. Why don’t you give it a try, baby boy?” She answered.

“I think I will.”

“Enough. Stop.” Winn barked out, and everyone ceased what he or she was doing.

Alex took off the blindfold, and stood among the others.

Winn looked to Aldrich first.

“What did you see? He asked.

“When she told the truth, she stood on both feet, and looked straight ahead. When she lied, she shifted her weight to her left foot, and looked down and to the left for about a second.”

“I did?” Camila reacted.

“Yeah. Like I said, you suck at this.”

“Good. I’m glad I suck at this.”

“And you Alex; how did you know?” Winn interrupted.

“Her voice hesitated. But even before that, I knew.”

They all looked at him.

“Because like Chris said, she shifted her weight when she lied. And she did it just before she spoke, and when she did, the floorboard creaked.”

“Doctor Alex at work.” Yaw laughed. “Now it’s my turn.” He added.

“For you, multiple attackers.” Winn added.

Yaw picked up his sticks, spun them at the ready, and stood in the center of the circle. He looked over his training colleagues.

“Bring it.” He said with a smile.

GETTING READY

N
ikki carefully put on a final layer of ruby red lipstick, and rolled her lips together to smooth out the color. She stood back from the mirror and smiled at what she saw. She had spent the day getting her hair done as well as shopping on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills for a new little black dress to add to her collection. It had been a long time since she had spent an entire day pampering herself, and she had to admit, it felt pretty damn good. The day of indulgence had finished with a facial, manicure and pedicure, and now, with a new low cut, skin tight dress, the fresh golden brown hair, along with matching black three inch heels and contrasting blood red nails, she was just about ready to stop the hearts of all her little brother’s friends.

She smoothed out the lines on her dress, and with all of the running she had done lately, her figure looked near flawless. She added a simple diamond pendant on a thin gold chain, along with a platinum Cartier watch, the latter a gift Michael had given to her when they first began dating. She hadn’t worn it in a long time, and hesitated to wear it now, considering the source, but in the end she decided it was just watch, and she would purposefully wash it of any other meaning than that. She was going to sell it by the end of the week anyway, and she viewed wearing it one last time, tonight, as some sort of token ritual for closure, a symbolic middle finger as a final farewell to her relationship with Michael.

She had also decided that she would return his phone calls tomorrow. Although certainly not over her relationship with him, she had made the decision to move on from it, and that necessitated a more satisfying sense of ending with her ex-boyfriend. After her last conversation with her brother she finally decided to listen to Michael’s messages, and he had left a considerable array of apologies on her voicemail, begging her forgiveness and speculating a hope that one-day in the future perhaps they could be together again, that they could start over, and that this time, “Things would be different”. The latter part would certainly be so, as Kittner-Kusch had all but collapsed, the firm burdened with sudden and massive debt caused by soaring oil prices, the end result of the firm’s strategy to short the market. Her strategy.