Play Dead (19 page)

'Do you really mean it, Tony?'

'Sure, honey. I never knew it would hurt you. I love you, baby. I would never do something to hurt you. You know that.'

And Gloria thought that maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he did love her after all. Maybe he didn't understand how she felt about what had happened. If he did, he would never have made her do it.

Tony continued to talk to her, to soothe her. He had received a new shipment too. Prime stuff. And she needed a fix. Her whole body was craving for a little prick from Tony's needle. He shot her up with a very large amount of drugs.

Her mind became fuzzy, even more fuzzy than usual. She drifted back, her world spinning in a murky haze.

'How do you feel, honey?'

'I'm flying,' she replied with a smile. 'I'm flying.'

'Good, baby. That's real good.'

She felt his hand on her blouse. He was unbuttoning her top. He slipped it off and then he pulled down her shorts and panties. She began to giggle. 'You want to do it now?'

'Yeah, baby. I got something special planned.'

Special. That sounded nice. She closed her eyes as the drugs sped through her veins. It felt nice to be naked with Tony.

She felt him hold down her arms and legs. No reason to. She was not about to struggle, except that sometimes he liked that. The lights were suddenly very bright in her eyes. Tony must have pulled up the shade. But wait. How could he have pulled up the shades when he was holding her down?

Then she heard people speaking Spanish.

She opened her eyes but the harsh glare made her close them again. She moved to shade them with her hand and that was when she realized that her hands and legs were tied to the bed.

'Tony?'

More whispered words. Some in Spanish. Some in English. And then laughter. She felt so tired she just wanted to go to sleep. She forced open her eyes and focused.

The Colombian smiled down at her. He was with six other men. They were all naked.

Now she struggled but the drugs and the knots were too strong. 'Tony?'

'I'm here, baby,' he laughed. 'Just enjoy.'

The men approached her, each stroking a different part of her body with their hands and tongues. She looked up and saw Tony holding a video camera. The rest was a blur of words and positions. Her body was turned over, twisted every which way, abused.

'Get her closer to the camera.' 'Put it in her mouth.' 'This is going to be the best film yet.' 'Bend her the other way.'

Gloria felt saliva and warm breath covering her face, her neck, her breasts, her thighs. Rough hands clawed at her.

Then a female voice shouted, 'STOP!'

Suddenly the men were being pulled off her. Gloria felt someone untying her arms. She managed to open her eyes and look up. But what she was seeing had to be a hallucination from the drug.

'Laura?' she called out.

'Just relax,' her sister said. 'You'll be all right.'

Gloria started to cry. Why hadn't she killed herself? Death would have been preferable to letting Laura see what her older sister had become.

David and T.C. had come with Laura. T.C. whipped out his badge, causing the Colombians to scatter in every direction. David destroyed Tony's video recording.

'You're going to be all right, Gloria,' Laura said through her tears. She held her sister tightly. 'I'm going to help you now.'

Gloria raised her head. 'Now, if you want me to leave, I'll understand.'

What a fucking story! Stan thought. It gave him another goddamn hard-on! Stan moved toward her. 'Don't you understand, Gloria? None of that matters to me. I'm happy you want to be open with me, but that's all in the past now. You don't have to keep apologizing for it. It's the Gloria I know now that I care about. And I have something of a past myself. To be honest, I'm still not all I seem to be. But I'm trying, I really am. Will you help me, Gloria? Will you let me help you?'

They made love again and then Stan got dressed. He looked over at her body and felt Mr Happy start to stir yet again. Never had he been this horny for a chick's body. He had had plenty of women in his day but he had never seen a body like this. Soft skin, curvaceous and supple, flat stomach and, of course, the kind of breasts men fantasize about. There was only one thing that could arouse him more: Laura.

But that conquest would come in time. Right now, he had to be careful with Gloria. Christ, what a story, he thought again. Talk about Miss Instability 1989. Stan didn't want to take the chance of letting Laura know about him laying her sister so he had convinced her not to tell anyone.

'Just for a little while,' he assured her. 'It's a superstitious thing with me. I'm afraid if we tell the world something bad will happen.'

She had bought it. And besides, Gloria made an ideal safety valve in case something went wrong or if he needed another score. She had plenty of dough of her own.

They headed out of the hotel together. When they reached the street, Stan faced her. 'I'll see you tonight.'

Gloria nodded, her face beaming.

He bent down and kissed her passionately.

Across the street, a jogger wearing an Adidas sweatsuit watched the kiss from behind his zoom lens. He snapped a few more pictures and then he picked up the phone and dialed.

'What have you got?'

'He and Gloria Ayars just left,' he replied. 'They appeared rather chummy.'

'Keep following Baskin.'

'Okay, but I want to know what this is all about.'

'Don't worry about it. Just keep following him and call in if he does anything unusual.'

The jogger shrugged. 'Whatever you say, T.C.'

The phone buzzed.

'Yes, Estelle.'

'John Bort is here to see you.'

'Send him in.'

John Bort opened the door. 'You wanted to see me, boss?'

'Yes, John. Come in.'

'Something wrong with the security?'

'No, not at all,' Laura assured him.

'This place is wired better than Fort Knox, you know.'

'You're doing a super job, John. Please have a seat.'

'Thanks, boss.'

'You can call me Laura.'

'I prefer boss.'

She shrugged. 'Suit yourself.'

'What can I do for you?' he asked.

Laura tilted back her chair. 'You used to work for the FBI, right?'

'Thirty-three years with the agency,' he replied.

'So you've seen it all in your time.'

'Just about. What's this all about, boss?'

'My question deals with a bank transaction.'

'Huh?'

'Let me give you a hypothetical situation,' she continued. 'Suppose a large sum of money vanished -- '

'Large amounts of money just don't vanish, boss.'

'True. Let's suppose a man transferred this large sum to Switzerland and they transferred it elsewhere. Now the man dies and there is no way to track down the money. What would you do?'

He thought for a moment. 'I'm not sure, boss. The man probably wanted to hide his money. Could be that he was afraid someone was after it -- you know, a relative or something -- and he wanted to make sure they couldn't get their hands on it. Or it could be that he had a mistress someplace and he wanted to take care of her without the family knowing about it.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, let's say he knew he was going to die, right? His family would have a claim to the money. But he wants to leave a certain amount to somebody else without letting his family in on what he's doing.'

'Pretty far-fetched.'

'True enough, but I know a couple of guys who did it. Hell, if you think that's far-fetched, you oughta hear about the case in 1972 that was like this.'

'What happened?' Laura asked.

John Bort adjusted himself in the chair. 'This big informer dies in a fire right before giving his testimony. Arson. Knocked off by the mob, we figured. But something is weird: his money vanishes. Well, my partner and I check it out, check all over, but we can't locate the funds. Guess what happens?'

'What?'

'Two years later the same informer turns up dead . . . again! The son of a bitch hid all his money and then faked his own death! And we fell for it! He moved his money to Ireland and was living there under an assumed name for all that time. And we never knew. Unfortunately for him, the mob didn't fall for it. Somehow, they managed to find him.' John sat back with a smile and shook his head in disbelief. 'Ain't that the weirdest thing you ever heard?'

Laura did not respond. She was already dialing T.C.'s number.

The patient pushed the barbell over his head.

'That's enough for today,' the nurse said.

The patient lowered the bar and shook his head. 'Not by a long shot.'

'You're going to overdue it.'

The patient struggled and the bar went over his head. He was a bit out of shape but not nearly as bad as he feared. 'No chance.'

'You are being very stubborn.'

The patient performed two more repetitions. 'I've been cooped up in that goddamn bed for too long. I need to do a little exercise.'

'This is all highly irregular. We are supposed to imagine that this place is a hospital, not a health spa.' She moved over toward the curtain. 'Why don't you go for a walk outside? The only people who will see you are the locals.'

The patient looked surprised. 'I can start going outside?'

She sighed. 'If you promise not to overdo it.' She opened the closet and reached in. 'The doctor told me not to give this to you until you were ready.'

The patient put down the weights and watched her.

'Here,' the nurse said. 'The doctor said you would be anxious to get your hands on this.'

With a small grunt, she tossed the patient a basketball.

'I'm glad you called, Laura,' T.C. began as he entered her office. He was too jittery to sit on Laura's plush office furniture, so he paced around the room. 'I also wanted to talk to you.'

'About what?'

'You go first.'

She too was feeling somewhat jittery, but she stayed in her chair and performed her customary leg shake. She was not sure what she wanted to say. Nothing made sense anymore but maybe T.C. could help her figure out what was going on. Maybe T.C. could tell her why a man who knew nothing of finance worked out an elaborate scheme to have money disappear just days (or even hours) before his death. 'Do you know John Bort?'

'Your security chief? Sure. Good man. Hell of a storyteller.'

'Did you know he used to work for the FBI?'

'Sure.'

'Well, I asked him about the disappearing account.'

T.C. looked surprised. 'You told him about it?'

'No. I asked him about a hypothetical situation similar to ours.'

'What did he say?'

Laura told him about her short conversation with John Bort. When she finished, T.C. was more fidgety than ever.

'So what are you trying to say, Laura?'

'Nothing, I wanted your opinion.'

T.C. finally sat down. 'David's dead. You've got to come to terms with it.'

'I know that, but I want to know why he moved his money.'

'Like John said, maybe he had a reason for hiding it that we aren't aware of.'

Laura did not buy that. 'And where did he get this sudden know-how about transferring funds?'

'I don't know. He could have gone to some big money expert or something.'

'And the timing? Isn't that a hell of a coincidence?'

T.C. took out a cigar, fighting to remain calm. 'So what do you think, Laura? I saw his body. David is dead. His ghost did not break into your house and rip up a photograph of his father. His ghost is not drinking Margaritas in Tahiti, living off secret bank accounts. There are a million more logical possibilities.'

The phone buzzed. 'Laura?'

'What is it, Estelle?'

'The accountant is here with the check for Mr Baskin.'

'I'll be with him in a minute.'

T.C.'s pale face gained color in a hurry. 'A check for Stan Baskin? What the hell is going on?'

'Nothing.'

'You're giving money to Stan Baskin?'

'Just drop it. You said you had something important to tell me.'

'Laura, you can't give him money.'

Laura wished he had never overheard Estelle's announcement. 'Like it or not, Stan Baskin is David's only living relative. He's entitled to some of his estate.'

'He's entitled to shit!'

'That's your opinion.'

T.C. stood quickly and once again began pacing. He was fuming. 'How much is he taking you for?'

'If you want to know the truth, I had to force him to accept it.'

'I'm sure you had to twist his arm. How much?'