Paige Torne and Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper shared a cab ride back to The Brickyard while the others made their way to the Mandarin Oriental for the big rescue mission.
"I don't like this at all," Yoshiko fumed. "Sitting around and waiting while my daughter's life is in the balance."
"I know the feeling, darlen'," Paige replied as she looked out the window. The cabbie had taken Grant all the way downtown, and they were now passing through Chinatown. "But too many cooks spoil the soup. Qwan and Stuart seem like pros."
"Yes... they do, as does Gwen Sweet," Yoshiko replied, remembering how they had handled her own hostage situation just a few hours prior. She looked at Paige. "On another note... what do you intend to do about that awful... pornographic bondage website you forced my daughter to be on?"
"Well,"Paige smiled. "It is quite popular! After cnn.com ran your story from the Examiner with the site addy, we've gotten ever two hundred thousand hits! And sales of her DVD are..."
Yoshiko placed her hand on Paige's leg and squeezed. A firm and forceful sign for her to be quiet.
"You misunderstand me, Paige," Yoshiko said gently. "I meant, what are you going to do about shutting it down!"
"Oh." Paige blinked. "I tell you what, when Tai Anne gets back to The Brickyard, I'll leave it up to her. After all, she is an adult!"
"Alledgedly," Yoshiko replied with a sigh.
***
Gordon Watanabe, concierge of the Mandarin Oriental adjusted his tie for the fifth time in thirty minutes. He was nervous as hell, and already practicing what he'd telling the police in a few hours after the bloodbath occurred.
He had already short-circuited the security cams in the third, lower level parking garage along with the video cam in the express freight elevator, just as Tanner-Hyde had wanted.
He had no doubt that this action was connected to the information he had given Tanner-Hyde just a little while ago, and would have dire consequences for somebody.
The lobby elevator chimed, and out stepped a man carrying a woman is his arms, both were laughing and appeared a little tipsy as he staggered over to the main check-in desk.
"Howdy, pard!" The man was handsome, well dressed and wearing a cowboy hat. The giggling woman he was putting down was blonde, quite pretty and dressed in a leather jacket, tight jeans and cowboy boots. "Me 'n the Missus heah jus' got ourselves hitched up! And we got ourselves the hunnymoon suite!!!"
Watanabe went to the hotel's computer. "Names sir?"
"Wail, Ah'm Clyde Barrow and this here is Bonnie Parker..."
"Bonnie Barrow, mista!" his wife reminded him with an elbow to the ribs.
"Ow! Yeah, hunny!" He grinned at Watanabe. "Guess when folks say, 'Howdy, Mrs. Barrow!' from now on, Ah better quit lookin' fo' mah Mama!"
"That would be wise, sir," Watanabe replied. "Yes... Mr. and Mrs. Barrow of Fort Worth, Texas. We have your reservations confirmed and you are pre-paid... they must have just come in. We have you and your wife in the Honeymoon Suite in suite 4610..."
"Oh... thet sounds high!" Bonnie giggled.
"The suite offers a lovely view of the South Bay and the Oakland Bay Bridge..."
"Yeah, well..." Clyde looked at his wife. "This here is the only lovely view Ah wanna see!"
Oh, baaaabe!" Bonnie kissed him. "Ah luuuuv yew!!!"
Watanabe rang for a bellboy and looked at their two small pieces of luggage.
"Oh, damned Northworst lost all our clothes," Clyde explained. "Not thet Ah expect to be wearin' much fo' the next lil while!"
"Indeed," Watanabe replied.
***
"Wail, ain't this the cat's pi-yamas!" Bonnie said as Clyde carried her over the threshold of their suite.
"Your kitchen area is through here," The young Asian bellboy said, as he flipped on the lights. "In the living room is your Satellite TV and DVD with an array of recent hit movies..."
"I don't figure on watchin' too much TV!" Clyde said, putting down his wife. "At least not fo' the next lil while!"
"Jus' tell us whar' the bed is, sonny!" Bonnie called out.
"Bedroom is through that door," the bellboy said as he presented Clyde with his keycard, and Clyde gave him a crisp hundred dollar bill.
"Make sure we don't get disturbed fer nuthin'," Clyde said. "And Ah see another Benjamin in yore future."
"Yes SIR!" The bellboy almost saluted and hurried out the door.
They were alone.
"Weren't you overdoing it a bit... Clyde?" Gwen Sweet said as she watched Jeb Stuart make sure the door was locked.
"What? Tipping the kid a C-note?" Jeb replied as he tossed the cowboy hat onto a chair.
"No... that godawful accent! You were supposed to be from Texas, not Dogpatch, USA!"
"I wouldn't talk... 'cat's pi-yamas', indeed!" Jeb clucked his tongue. "Such horrible stereotyping of a people through their accents just shouldn't occur..."
"Yeah, Yeah," Sweet looked through the well stocked mini-fridge and pulled out a jar of chocolate-covered macademia nuts. "Better call Canada's finest."
"Righto." Jeb took out his cellphone and called Qwan.
***
Gordon Watanabe looked up as one of the maids showed up. Yukari something...
"You wanted to see me, Watanabe-san?" Yukari Mei Awai asked. "I saw your note on my time card when I clocked in."
"Hai! I authorized a fifteen break for you, Yukari-kun!" he said. "And you were gone for almost an hour!"
"Gomen nasai, Watanabe-san!" Yukari bowed and trembled.
"The incident is forgiven, but do not let it happen again!"
"Hai! Domo Arigato, Watanabe-san!"
"Now, back to your duties!"
"Hai hai!"
As she ran off, the elevators doors chimed again. Watanabe watched as a beautiful Asian woman dressed in white and wearing a long coat of flowing white silk exited, with a bellboy behind her hauling a rolling rack of matched luggage.
"May I be of assistance?" Watanabe asked.
"I hope so." She spoke English with an eastern Cantonese inflection. A Mainlander! Watanabe thought with excitement. They usually spent --and tipped-- like there was no tomorrow. "My name is Xiang Tsu Lin of Beijing. I am here on a week long business trip, and was supposed to get the best suite available at the Westin St. Francis. I was severely disappointed with the accommodations. A co-worker recommended your establishment most highly."
"Yes, Ms. Xiang!" Watanabe replied, bowing slightly. "Here at the Mandarin Oriental, 'the best' is our standard of service." He looked at his computer. "We have a lovely suite on 44 that..."
"I was told the suites on 47 are the best," Ms. Xiang interrupted.
"Of course!" he consulted a screen. "We have the Presidential Suite in suite 4708... It goes for $1750 a night."
"Excellent!" Xiang replied. "I will need a week's accommodations. If the suite meets my approval."
"Of course!" Watanabe rang for more bellboys.
***
Three bellboys hauled Xiang Tsu Lin's things up to her suite. She nodded politely as they showed her the attached office with DSL and cable modem hookup. If she needed a computer brought in, they would be happy to supply her with one.
The kitchen was magnificent and the living room spacious, as was the view that gave her a view of The City looking west, with the sun setting against the skyline.
"It will do." Xiang said. She tipped everybody and watched them leave.
Once she was alone, Inspector Michelle Qwan got on her cell and quick-called Jeb.
"I'm in," she said when he answered. "4708, just two doors down from the hostages."
"Roger that," Jeb replied. "You want us up there yet?"
"Negative, Yukari will be up here soon, let me find out if she's picked up anymore intel."
"Roger that."
"Qwan out."
She clicked off and strode over to her luggage, where she hefted a suitcase onto the couch and unlocked it. She took out two small plastic guncases and clicked them open.
Inside the first case was a small, .40 calibre Model 23 Glock pistol. 13 shot clip with one more round chambered. It was her usual concealed carry piece. Qwan checked the load and screwed a short silencer onto the barrel.
The second case held a 9mm Heckler & Koch MP5k machine pistol. Ridiciously small for such a powerful weapon, it had an attached laser sight and folding stock. Qwan snapped in a doubled over 30-round magazine and screwed a short silencer onto the barrel.
She looked at her Rolex. No telling when Officer Awai would decide to show. She sighed and went to the kitchen to fix a pot of tea.
***
Crowe T. Grackel looked in the mirror and as usual, liked what he saw.
"Are you talkin' to me?" he asked himself. "You must be talkin' to me... cuz I don't see anybody else here."
Grackel was dressed in black pants, a white shirt and a black suitjacket, tie and shoes. He looked like a refugee from a Quintin Tarentino movie.
"And if there's nobody else here... you must be talkin'... t' me!!!" He pulled a nickeled Colt .45 automatic from his shoulder rig and aimed it at the mirror. "Ka-pow!"
Grackel snickered and checked the magazine for the fifth time. He eased back the slide to make sure for the fifth time he had a round chambered. He then set the thumb safety and holstered his pistol once more.
He didn't really think Fiendly would doublecross him. But that bitch of his might have othere ideas about being his slave for life. You could never trust a woman. Not ever.
He looked around his small room and realized he was going to miss it. There was no turning back after he snatched Jessica. No return to either The Brickyard or Paige.
He went to his computer and typed in a voice recognition program, one that would make his voice over his cellphone sound like whoever he had a file on.
Grackel went to video and got a pic of the two bikers guarding the door to Jessica McClintock's quarters here in the Brickyard, Sal Garrison and Sonny Munson. He punched in the number to Sal's cell and waited for him to answer.
"Yeah?"
"Sal, this is Paige," Grackel said. All Sal heard on his end was Paige's voice.
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"We've been compromised big time. Grackel will be there in a few minutes to pickup Jessica and take her to a new a safehouse. Now listen carefully... if anyone else comes by, or calls and asks about Jessica, you tell them she is still there. Got it?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" he answered.
"Good." Grackel clicked off and cackled in glee. Damn I'm good!!!
One last thing... he logged into the Operating System's mainframe and let loose a rather nasty computer virus. There! Let Paige find out for herself how important I was... and how important I am.
Crowe T. Grackel checked his pockets to see if he had everything --including the passbook with the codes for his Caymans account-- and left his room for the last time. He strode purposely down the darkened corridors, coming up fast on the room that held Jessica McClintock.
"Evening, guys!" Grackel said to Sal and Sonny. Sal nodded to him and even opened the door for him.
Jessica McClintock was watching Leave It to Beaver on TVLand. The room was small but nicely furnished. She looked at him with her large, green eyes. "Mr. Grackel!"
"Hiya, Jessica," he replied. "Get your stuff together... Paige is sending you to another safehouse."
"But why?"
"She's afraid those Fist of Allah assholes are gonna make a try for you here at The Brickyard," Grackel answered. "Now c'mon! Chop-chop!"
"Yessir!" Jessica was dressed in too tight, faded, l.e.i. hiphuggers and a tight red top that left her midriff bare. With her long blonde hair and tanned features, Grackel thought she looked like prime stuff. She got together a workout bag with some things, pulled on a denim jacket and presented herself to Grackel.
He nodded and they left together. Sal nodded again as they hurried down the corridor and took another set of stairs down.
"Where are we going, sir?"
"The garage, we'll take my car," Grackel said, liking the fact at least one girl here didn't mind showing him a little r-e-s-p-e-c-t.
The garage area was well lit, and Grackel spotted Paige's big Expedition and even Taffy Chu's lil black VW Beetle.
"Wow! Is this your car?" Jessica said in awe.
Grackel smiled smugly. It was more than his car... it was his everything. A fully restored, 1968 Shelby Mustang GT500KR fastback, with a rebuilt 427 big block V-8 under the hood. It was a polished, midnite black with white racing stripes.
He opened the door for her and she slid into the smooth, black leather bucket seats. She noticed the pair of handcuffs ratcheted to the rearview mirror but didn't say anything.
Grackel started the engine, letting the low rumbling of the V-8 fill the garage. He took the freight elevator up to the ground floor and then took off into the night with the fair Jessica.
***
Not twenty seconds after he left out the back way, the cab with Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper and Paige Torne pulled up to the front doors of The Brickyard.
Paige paid the cabbie and hurried up the steps and through the front doors. Monday nights were always slow, but this was still San Francisco. A decent crowd was filling up the dancefloor as some Pacific Rim techno-funk blared from the speakers.
Yoshiko followed her as she headed to the bar, where Taffy Chu --resplendent in skintight, shiny red latex-- was waiting for her.
"Taff, anything happen while I was gone?"
"Well, Shakira disappeared, Mistress," Taffy replied.
"And how the fuck did that happen?"
"She got up and... walked," Taffy replied. "You didn't say you wanted to hold her!"
Paige sighed. Well, no harm done. Despite Shakira's prowness with hypnotism and Hindu mysticism, she didn't have the slightest fucking idea where Tai Anne and Drew were being kept.
Paige looked as Yoshiko pulled up a barstool beside her. "Would you like a drink, Yoshiko?"
"Hai... I could use one."
"Bartender!" Paige called. "A pitcher of my martinis!" She looked at Taffy. "What about Jessica?"
"I looked in on her ten minutes ago. She's well guarded. Everything's fine."
"That's when I begin to worry," Paige replied. "Check on her again."
Taffy sighed and pulled out her cell. "Hey, Sal? Taff again. Check on Jessica, willya? Yeah, I'll wait." While she waited the martinis arrived. "Okay, thanks."
She clicked off. "Sal says he just checked her himself, and she is fine."
"Swell." Paige poured three martinis and added her signiture jalapeno stuffed olive to each one.
Taffy, Paige and Yoshiko clinked glasses and drank them down.
***
Sipping her third cup of tea, Qwan heard a knock on her door. She unholstered her Glock and approached.
"Maid service!" a voice called.
Qwan looked through the door's fisheye lens and saw Yukari Mei Awai in her cute little maid's outfit. She opened the door long enough to grab her up and pull her in, closing the door behind her.
"Where the hell have you been?" Qwan growled.
"Gomen nasai!" Yukari said. "But I had to check a few things out! Have very bad news to report!"
Qwan sighed. "What now?"
***
"Where are you going?" Jeb asked Sweet.
"Just to the ice machine down the hall," Sweet answered. "For 1500 bucks a day, I refuse to drink a warm Diet Coke!" It was true... the Cokes in the little fridge were still room temp.
"Attsa girl," Jeb said as he flipped through the latest issue of Maxim, admiring Cameron Diaz in her undies.
She hadn't been gone thirty seconds when Jeb's cellphone trilled. "Yeah?"
"Jeb, Qwan here. Awai says the concierge who's in league with Tanner-Hyde came back from a 45 minute break about an hour ago. She says he never does that..."
"Then he's met with Tanner-Hyde already," Jeb said.
"Also, Awai says the security cams are out on parking level LL3 and on the express frieght elevator."
"Fist of Allah is here already," Jeb muttered.
"I'm taking Awai and heading for 4712. Get Sweet and get up here ASAP."
"Roger that." Jeb clicked off, pulled on his suit jacket hurried out the door.
***
"Big goddamn ritzy hotel..." Sweet muttered to herself as she was bent over into the ice machine in an alcove just off the main corridor, "and almost no ice!"
She finally scraped together a bucketful at the bottom of the machine, just as she felt something hard jab her in the ass.
"Okaaaaaaaay..." She pulled her head out of the coldbox and turned. "Very fucking... funny."
Gwen Sweet found herself staring at a young, wild-eyed Arab man, casually dressed-- who now had a silencered Skorpion vz.61 machine pistol jammed into the underside of her jaw.
"I am not laughing," Shahin the Hawk said.
"Hey, you want the ice, take it!" Sweet said.
Shahin knocked the ice bucket to the floor and pawed over Sweet, relieving her of her cellphone and her pistol. Lastly, he pulled her SFPD badge off her belt.
"Filthy infidel bitch," he hissed. "Playing policeman!" She could feel the anger and rage radiating off him in waves. "You killed my brother Haytham today... and now I will have the pleasure of killing you! And with your death, I will assure my brother his rightful place beside Allah!"
She could feel him squeezing the slack out of the trigger.
"Hey," Sweet said. "You see a lot of movies?"
He paused. "Yes."
"American movies?"
"Yes." He knew she was playing for time, but he also know he had her dead to rights. Let the bitch play her game, she will still die!.
"American Westerns?"
"Yes."
"Ever see a western called The Good, the Bad and the Ugly?"
"Yes, one of Clint Eastwood's spaghetti westerns... I have seen it several times," Shahin said. "with... Lee Van Cleef and Eli Wallach."
The barrel of the machinepistol was jammed tighter into Sweet's jaw.
"Well... remember the scene where this guy who's been tracking Eli Wallach for most of the movie, finally catches up with him while he's taking a bath... and instead of just shooting him, he's gotta tell him why he's gonna shoot him... which gives Eli Wallach enough time to get the drop on him, and kill him..."
"Yes..."
"And then Eli Wallach says..."
The left side of Shahin's head erupted in a vicious spray of skull, brains and blood, splattering the wall and nearby Coke machine. Sweet batted aside the machine pistol as his hand convulsed, sending a short, silencered burst into the ceiling.
Shahin dropped to the floor at Sweet's feet. Jeb Stuart entered the alcove, his own silencered, Hk-23 pistol still smoking.
"You okay?" Jeb asked.
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Your welcome," Jeb replied. "Oh by the way, Qwan thinks there's a good chance Fist of Allah are already on premises."
"No shit." Sweet retrieved her gun, badge and cellphone.
"So what did Eli Wallach say after he killed the guy who had been after him?"
"He said, 'If you're gonna shoot, then shoot! Don't talk!"
"Words to live by," Jeb said.
"So what do we do with this guy?" Sweet asked.
Jeb looked at the ice machine and smiled.
***
Michelle Qwan and Yukari Mei Awai moved together down the quiet corridor. An older couple, leaving one of the other suites for a night on the town, hardly noticed them as they passed. Yukari was still pushing her maid's cart. Qwan was still dressed in white, her long, white silk coat concealing her shoulder rig and weapons.
Qwan's cellphone vibrated against her side. She clicked on, speaking through a wiremike and earbud. "Yes?"
"Jeb here. Just chopped off another finger of the Fist of Allah on 46. Langley and his crew enroute. We're on our way, coming up the stairs."
"Roger that. Proceed into 4712 upon arrival. Qwan out." She thought about that one. What the hell was one of them doing on 46? Maybe keeping an eye out for cops while the others took the hostages in 4712...
She nodded to Yukari who slipped over to the door to Suite 4712. She used her keycard to open the door.
Qwan pushed it open on silent hinges, drawing her HK-MP5k. Nothing. Yukari drew her own pistol, a small Kahr automatic.
The suite was dark and silent, with only the lights of the city coming through the windows. The two policewomen stepped inside, closing the door behind them.
Meanwhile, Fannikins Wenche was hiding in the hall closet with two Taser pistols in her hands and a MAC-11 machine pistol slung over one shoulder.
She held her breath as she two shadowy figures passed her going down the hallway. She waited a long moment and then opened the closet door and shot both intruders in their hinders with the Tasers.
The wire-guided darts hit their targets, causing both the figures to convulse and finally fall to the carpet. A burst of silencered automatic weapons fire ripped into a wall from a weapon one of them had carried.
"Ha-ha! Gotcha!" The Wenche snickered as she stepped out of the closet and turned on a light to see who she had caught.
"Police Officers, don't move, Wenche!" A woman's voice behind her. Someone who knew her name too.
"Oh, bollocks!" The Wenche said, dropping her Tasers and her machine pistol to the floor and raising her hands. "And how the bloody hell do you know me?"
"We have a mutual acquaintance," Qwan answered, as she and Yukari stepped in front of her.
"Damn... Michelle of the Mounties!" The Wenche said. "I had a feeling we'd meet one day... Fiendly told me all about you."
"And where is the good doctor?"
"Not here!"
"Anybody else here?"
"Just those two blokes on the floor."
Just then Jeb Stuart and Gwen Sweet appeared, having made it through the front door.
"Jeb," Qwan said to him. "Two hostiles down, at least one more unaccounted for. You two sweep the premises."
Jeb nodded. He and Sweet moved through the rooms, turning on lights as they went.
"I said..." The Wenche began.
"Hush," Qwan replied. She put the Wenche to the wall and cuffed her. She looked at Yukari. "If she so much as squirms, kneecap her."
Qwan then bent down to check on the two dark figures The Wenche had zapped with the Taser.
The first was a young Arab man dressed casual and wearing body armour. She recognized him from Interpol fliers as Azzid al Benifra, aka Fahd the Panther of the Fist of Allah. A major league badass.
He was semi-conscious, and no matter how much of a terrorist badass you are, a zap from a Taser still means you need a good thirty minutes before you're able to make a fist.
Number two was another young Arab man. Qwan recognized him as Ali bin Fatale aka Abbas the Lion, leader of the Fist of Allah and the son of a bitch who set the booby traps in that house in Vancouver four years ago that left one of her partners maimed and the other dead.
He was as helpless as the first one. Just staring at her.
Michelle Qwan pulled her Glock out and placed it against the side of his head. The Glock pistol doesn't have to be cocked and there is no safety. You just slip your index finger into the trigger guard and squeeze.
"Inspector?" Yukari said softly.
"Yes?"
"You aren't him. I know of your exploits," Yukari continued. "You are a... police officer, of the highest caliber. And... you are not him."
Yukari then led the handcuffed Wenche away into the living room. Giving me some privacy, Qwan thought.
Qwan took a deep, ragged breath and holstered the Glock. She took out a bundle of plastic cuff ties and started binding her prisoners.
Both Fahd and Abbas got the same treatment. Wrists drawn behind their backs, then elbows together, followed by knees and ankles with the ankles being connected to the elbow ties, causing their bodies to be painfully bowed back. It was a standard restraining tie used by the Israeli Mossad.
Qwan got up and called for Yukari.
"Inspector?"
"Watch these two, don't take your eyes off of them. If someone attempts a rescue, kill them both."
"Yes, Inspector."
"And Yukari... thanks." Qwan brushed by her as she headed into the living room.
"Place is clean," Jeb announced as he and Sweet finished their sweep of the rooms. They had also turned all the lights on.
"Found the locked closet vault," Sweet said.
"Great." Qwan hefted her machine pistol. "I'll keep a watch on the door and wait for Langley. Jeb, will you do the honours?"
Jeb smiled and went over to The Wenche.
"Well, Jeb Stuart!" The Wenche said in a snotty tone of voice. "It's bloody old home week!"
"Where's the keycard to the vault?"
"What vault?"
"The vault you're holding Tai and Drew captive in."
"Who?"
"Whaddya think, Gwen," Jeb asked Sweet as he pulled his pistol out. "Should I start with the toes or go straight for the kneecaps?"
"Keycard is in my purse, the keys to the cuffs and stuff is beside it!" The Wenche said quickly.
***
Drew Thrasher found herself dozing in her girlcage. The weight of Tai Anne Roper's head on her shoulder and her warm breath blowing lightly across her breasts comforted her.
She heart the vault door clicking open. Here we go! she thought, steeling herself for the inevitable. A new life of sexual slavery and servitude.
A light flared on.
"Drew! Tai!" She recognized Jeb's voice right away, and grinned as she saw him and the SFPD motorcop she had met earlier today --and right now it felt like a million years ago-- standing over her, working on the lock to the girlcage.
"You two okay?" Jeb asked as the padlock gave way.
"I'm fine, but Tai is in a bad way!" Drew said. "Get her out of that awful contraption as soon as you can!"
Tai Anne Roper groaned into her ring gag as Sweet began pulling her black, neoprene form out of the cage, while Jeb worked on the cuffs and shackles on Drew that were wound through the bars of the cage.
"Jeb," Drew continued. "You need to contact Paige immediately! Fiendly is on his way to get Jessica McClintock! There's a mole in her organisation... a man called Grackel! He's going to deliver her to him!"
"Grackel? Ye gods!" Jeb stopped to quick-call Paige. He remembered the unpleasant little creep he had met for a moment back at The Brickyard.
***
"WHAT!!!" Paige shouted into her cellphone. "You sure? Right!" She hung up and turned to Taffy and Yoshiko at the bar. "That was Jeb... they rescued Tai and Drew... and got all but one of the Fist of Allah..."
"Great!" Taffy said. "So what's the bad..."
Paige took off running across the dance floor. Taffy and Yoshiko looked at each other and followed.
Paige ran all the way to the room she was holding Jessica in. She saw with relief that Sal and Sonny were stll guarding the doors.
"Sal!" Paige shouted. "Please tell me that Jessica is still behind that door!"
"Sure!" Sal winked at her. "That's what I've been telling everybody... just like you asked!"
Paige unlocked the door and rushed into the room. She screamed when she saw it was empty.
"Where's Jessica?" Paige shouted.
"Grackel took her! Just like you said he would!"
Paige was ready to pull her hair out by the roots. "And... when did I say this?"
"You called me on your cell about a half hour ago," Sal said, beginning to get worried himself. "You tole me to let Grackel take her to another safehouse, and to tell anybody who asked that she was still here."
Paige punched the wall. "That little bastard! If I ever get ahold of him..."
***
John McLaren Park was on the south side of The City, it was heavily wooded, with lots of hills and was dominated by a huge, well lit concrete cross that could be seen over most of The City at night.
Dr. Fiendly waited by the cross patiently, wondering if Grackel knew this was the same spot where Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry Callhan, had met a kidnapper with the ransom money in the 1971 movie Dirty Harry.
"Hello, Doctor."
He turned as Crowe T. Grackel and Jessica McClintock came through some bushes. The sun had already set and it was getting dark quickly.
"Jessica, this is Doctor.... Smith..."
"Smythe," Fiendly corrected, tipping his bowler. "Waldo Pennington Smythe MD. At your service, young lady!"
"Dr. Smythe will take you on to the safehouse," Grackel said. "But first I need to have a word with him."
Fiendly smiled at Jessica and stepped aside to talk to Grackel. "Good show, Grackel! Bringing the fair Jessica with nary a chain upon her!"
"Never mind that," Grackel hissed. "Where the fuck is Fannikins? We hadda deal!"
"Just so, dear boy!" Fiendly said. "Your new slavegirl is waiting for you as we speak... nicely restrained, just for you!"
Fiendly handed Grackel a keycard. "Suite 4712 of the Mandarin Oriental, in case you've forgotten."
"I haven't." Grackel took the keycard with cold, shaking fingers. "Goodbye, Fiendly."
"Perhaps we'll meet again!" Fiendly called as Grackel took off into the bushes.
"I doubt that!" Grackel's voice called back from the darkness.
Fiendly chuckled. "Actually so do I."
He turned his attentions back to the fair Jessica.
"Are you going to take care of me, Doctor?" Jessica McClintock asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
"But of course, my dear!" Fiendly said grandly, placing a protective arm about her shoulders. "And now... let's away!"
Chapter Thirty-Nine