L A Woman Page 15

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re fine.”

  Hondo changed the subject and said, “Jett told me what she saw up until she left the parking lot.”

  I said, “Wasn’t much after that, except Berenko and his crew got the MAVs from me.”

  “MAVs. That’s what they were after?”

  “Yeah, real cutting edge technology. They’ve got wings like a dragonfly, they’re the size of a bee, and a hell of a lot more deadly.”

  Hondo said, “How many?”

  “All of them. Three thousand.”

  “Did you see where they went?”

  “Nope. I called Agent Harris and told him about it. He’s got everybody but his grandmother looking and watching.”

  “And he blames you.”

  “Oh yeah. He’s probably going to arrest me before it’s all over.”

  Hondo looked at Jett, then back at me and said, “Then we need to get busy.”

  Jett finished with Hondo’s head bandage and kissed the top of his head. She said, “Okay, take me to the Page Museum Parking Lot and blindfold me.”

  I said, “I knew she was kinky the minute I laid eyes on her.”

  Jett grinned and said, “When I woke up after the explosion I was blindfolded, but I tried to memorize the route they took to La Brea. I think I can trace it backwards if I’m blindfolded.”

  Hondo said, “I’ll get a few things from the safe, then we can go.”

  As he spun the combination I said, “If we can find them, maybe Harris won’t put me in a jail cell with some prison-tatted guy named Tripod.”

  “That,” Hondo said, “Should be all the incentive you need.”

  **

  When Hondo says ‘A few things’, what he means is enough gear and weapons to take over a small country.

  He finished loading the last of it in the GTO’s trunk and I said, “You know, Hannibal used elephants; I think you forgot to pack one.”

  Hondo closed the trunk and said, “Pack light, that’s my motto.”

  Jett got in the front seat and yelled, “Shotgun.”

  I jingled the keys at Hondo, “Tsk-tsk, I guess you get the back seat.”

  Hondo rolled his eyes, then adjusted the dark windbreaker that covered the two Kimber .45s he carried in shoulder holsters. He was ready.

  We positioned the GTO as close as Jett and I could remember to where the Mercedes had been parked, Then Jett put on the blindfold. “Go out of the lot and take a left,” she said.

  We meandered through the streets of greater Los Angeles with Jett saying, “Go a little faster,” or, “”Little slower, Ronny,” and with her giving occasional direction changes left and right. Twice she asked us, “Is there a stop light up ahead?” and both times she was right.

  We drove on through the city and worked our way up into the hills, higher and higher. This was pricey territory and mansions dotted the hillside behind gated entries that guarded personal driveways. As we pulled up to a stop sign, Jett said, “It’s not far ahead, maybe a quarter mile or a little more.”

  She took off her blindfold but kept her eyes closed and said, “No, we need to turn right here and then about three or four hundred yards up there’ll be an automatic gate. I heard it working when we approached it.”

  We drove up the road and passed by the gate that Jett said must be the one. We took our time and looked over the place. Large, eight-foot stone walls surrounded the grounds, and there were two guards in small booths at the gate.

  Hondo said, “Video cameras at each corner so they’ve got the top of the walls and the grounds covered.”

  I drove beyond the walls and continued up the road for another minute, then stopped at a small overlook that gave a wide-open view of LA. Even with the smog, it was spectacular.

  Hondo said, “I can go over this guardrail, work my way through the brush and around the side of the hill. I should be able to view the whole compound from there.”

  “Okay,” I said, “But we need to get close, see what kind of firepower they’ve got on hand.”

  Hondo said, “What are you thinking?”

  I said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

  **

  I walked up to Berenko’s gate with my camera and began taking pictures. The guards hurried out of their booths and came to the gate. The tall one with the big biceps said, “Sir, I must ask you to move on.”

  I grinned at him and walked to the gate, “Hey, you know Q, right? Boy, that is so awesome!” I stuck my hand between the bars and he took it out of reflex as I said, “Quentin Tarantino, man I can’t believe I’m at his house and meeting one of his personal friends. Wow, this is great!”

  I pumped Big Biceps’ hand and grinned like an idiot as the other guard, who had pipe-stems for arms stepped closer to his co-worker. He said, “Tarantino doesn’t live here.”

  I winked at him, “Hey, I know you have to say that, but I bought this map down in Hollywood and the guy said it was the most up to date one in town, showed where all the big stars lived.”

  The big guy was trying to pull his hand back but I held on and pumped harder, “You know what I like best about his movies? The way he uses animals in them. He kills them by the hundreds so he can use the blood in his scenes for authenticity.”

  As I finished talking, I reached into my windbreaker pocket and came out with a large squeeze bottle filled with red paint and I squirted both of them, really hosing them down and letting Big Biceps have a double dose in his face.

  I jumped back from the gate and pumped my fists in the air and yelled, “Animal rights! S-P-C-A! PETA! PETA! Animal rights! S-P-C-A!”

  They sputtered and wiped their faces and Big Biceps said to Pipe-Stems, “Open this gate!”

  It opened and both of them came after me, but I ducked and dodged and ran into the compound and straight towards the mansion, screaming, “At-ti-ca! At-ti-ca! Let Bambi live!”

  They chased me and I cut across the large manicured lawn to the house, zipping by a small, neat wooden shed that had lawn maintenance equipment stacked against the walls. I circled around it and almost tripped over a huge leaf blower that had an engine on it big enough to power a Cessna. They stayed after me and I ran them all over the grounds until armed men swarmed out of the house like ants out of an anthill. That was enough, and I cut for the gate, screaming, “Freee Willy!”

  That’s when I noticed the gate was closed.

  I stopped and put my hands on my head, then those two bastards tackled me and knocked me down on the grass. Big Biceps jerked me up to my feet and turned me toward him. There were a dozen men behind him and nobody was smiling.

  I looked at my jeans, then back at him and said, “You know how hard it is to get grass stains out of pants? I’m gonna send you the cleaning bill for this!”

  Big Biceps took a clumsy swing at my head and I leaned out of the way. He staggered a couple of steps past me, off balance.

  I said, “Look, send Tarantino out here and I’ll give him our message.”

  Pipe-Stems, all red faced and huffing said, “I told you…Tarantino doesn’t live here.”

  I looked confused, “But the map showed this as his house.”

  Big Biceps said, “I don’t care what some map showed you, Quentin Tarantino does-not-live-here.” The armed men behind him were grinning now, relaxing because there was no threat.

  “Gosh, I feel so silly,” I took out my handkerchief and tried to wipe some of the red paint off him.

  Big Biceps pushed my hand away, “Just…just get the hell out of here and don’t come back.”

  “Jeeze, sorry for all the mess.” I walked to the gate and when it opened, I turned back and said, “Remember, vegetarianism is the right way to go.”

  I walked down the street until I was out of sight, then I heard the GTO coming. Jett stopped and I hopped over the door into the passenger’s seat.

  “You should have your own show,” Jett said. “I stood up on the hood and watched everything from the overlook. You
can hear from up there, too. Did you really yell ‘Free Willy’?”

  “Yes ma’am, I did.”

  Jett shook her head and grinned as she drove down the street.

  I said, “Hondo get in okay?”

  “Yeah, he went over the wall while everyone was chasing you.”

  “Is he going to meet us on the road?” I asked.

  “He said to wait at the next intersection, he wouldn’t be long.”

  Jett no sooner said it than Hondo jumped into the back seat of the convertible without touching the sides. I said, “Are you part gazelle?”

  Hondo said, “Do you have that CIA guy’s number, Harris?”

  The hair rose on my neck, “What did you see?”

  “Second floor, in a very large room that opens out to the balcony overlooking LA. They have the MAVs arranged on the floor like a miniature airplane squadron. Two men in lab coats and rubber gloves were putting three canisters of something into stainless steel lockboxes, plus there’s another guy working on a laptop that must be the guidance programming, because he hit a key on it and a dozen MAVs came off the ground, then he hit another one and they landed again.”

  “Shit!” I said, “And the canisters? Are you thinking biological?”

  Hondo said, “Yeah.”

  I said, “And the laptop controls the MAVs, and they’re using it here?”

  Hondo looked grim, “We had it all wrong. They aren’t trying to smuggle the MAVs out of the country, they’re going to use them here, in LA.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “Holy shit,” I said. I dug out my cell phone, dialed Agent Harris’ number--and got his voicemail. I left a quick message, then started to dial Vick, but saw Hondo was already on the phone with him and giving Vick the address.

  Hondo said, “Yes, that’s where Berenko and his men are. Yeah, but listen, Berenko has the MAVs…MAVs…I don’t have time to explain right now, call the FBI, CIA, or Homeland Security and talk to them, they’ll explain it. Yes, yes. Vick, they’re going to attack here, in Los Angeles. Yeah, come fast.” He hung up.

  I said, “What’d he say?”

  “He’s calling everybody and they’re all coming.”

  Hondo looked up the hill for a long moment and said, “They’re not gonna be in time.”

  “Then it’s up to us,” I said.

  “All three of us,” Jett said.

  **

  I returned to the gate and Big Biceps came to meet me. He was not happy.

  I put on my best smile and said, “Buddy, you did great out there,” I nodded at the Mansion grounds behind him.

  “Get out of here,” He said.

  I laughed as if we were old partners and said, “Come on, you knew who I was the whole time, don’t try to fool me.”

  His eyes squinted, “What are you talking about?”

  I stuck my hand through the gate bars and he again took my hand. I shook it and said, “Sonny Seinfeld’s the name. You’ve heard of me, Studio Producer, Director, Writer. Jerry’s third cousin on his mother’s side. I’m working on my new reality show for the networks, it’s called Finding Tomorrow’s Super Stars Today, and our first episode will be airing next week, and amigo,” I gave him my conspiratorial look, “You are the star, you and your other gate-guarding friend over there.”

  I waved Pipe-Stems over and said, “You two will be in the premier episode, which is set to air worldwide.”

  They looked at each other as I continued to pump Big Biceps’ hand. He said, “Well, we have been trying to get some acting gigs…”

  I laughed, “Acting gigs, you two just hit the mother lode. I will make you two the biggest stars Hollywood has ever seen.”

  Pipe-Stems said, “Really?”

  “Word. Do you think you could open the gate so we can talk a little more about it?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Seinfeld.” They both hurried to the booth and worked the gate button.

  As soon as the gate opened, I took off running for the mansion.

  “You Sonofabitch!” Big Biceps yelled as he and Pipe-Stems chased after me.

  I made it to the shed before a man with an AK-47 ran out of the mansion and swung a butt stroke at my head. I slid under it and banged into the shed, then rolled to my feet and reached to the small of my back for my pistol--and grabbed air. My pistol was somewhere in the long grass at the base of the shed.

  I pointed behind the guy and waved as I yelled, “Mr. Berenko!” He glanced back and I caught him on the temple with a high, hard sidekick that knocked him flopping to the grass.

  A shot banged and a bullet thunked into the shed by my head. Big Biceps pointed to shoot again as he charged me. I ducked around the corner of the building, looking for something to use as a weapon, and I grabbed the first thing I saw.

  Big Biceps came around the corner, and his chin made a perfect target. I swung the leaf blower’s big engine into his face and his two front teeth flipped through the air like Chiclets in the sunlight. He dropped to the ground, holding his mouth and moaning.

  Pipe-Stems was right behind. I jabbed the leaf blower at him and he backed off. I noticed he didn’t have a pistol, but he brandished a nasty looking collapsible baton.

  Shots came from within the mansion. I feinted at Pipe-Stems and ran towards the mansion doors. I could hear yells of alarm, then automatic fire followed quickly by the loud BOOM BOOM of a shotgun, then silence, followed by more voices yelling in languages I didn’t understand.

  I entered the mansion and saw two bodies on the floor. I sprinted by them and went up the stairs three at a time.

  More shooting, more yells came from the second floor. I banged through the first door I came to and found myself in an empty bedroom with ornate French Doors leading onto the balcony. I jerked them open and stepped out on the balcony. Muffled yells and another muffled shotgun blast came from a room at the far end. I raced towards the shooting, still carrying the leaf blower.

  The room’s French doors were open and as I got closer, I heard a strange metallic buzzing, starting low but getting steadily louder.

  I stopped at the door’s edge and did a quick peek. One man worked at a fever pitch on the laptop while another barricaded the door that led into the hallway.

  Another muffled BOOM came from the hallway, followed by the crack of pistols and the cries and yells of scared and angry men.

  I glanced across the room at the floor and the hairs on my neck stood up. The MAVs were skittering and buzzing, their dragonfly wings picking up speed. The floor looked alive.

  “Hey!” I yelled at the guy on the computer. He looked up at me in surprise, then his eyes changed and he pushed a final button.

  He said in a heavy German accent, “You are too late. They haff been programmed. Los Angeles vill be an infidel ghost town, reeking of the dead.” As he finished talking, the Mavs rose from the floor in unison.

  From near the front gates I heard the far away bang-bang-bang of pistols and suddenly, bullets hit all around me. John Wesley stood just inside the closed gate with a gun in each hand, shooting at me. He was a long way off but his bullets were hitting way too close.

  I jumped inside the room and the MAVs hovered in formation twenty feet from me like an enormous swarm of metallic bees.

  Then they started forward.

  Sirens and the faint drone of helicopters sounded in the distance. The cavalry was coming but they would be too late.

  The MAVs formation opened up and became more ragged as some flew faster than others. I tried to close the French doors to hold them in, but the doors were locked open. There was nothing to put over the opening and the first MAV hummed by my head and made it out into the air.

  Hondo burst through the door and I yelled, “The laptop!”

  Hondo butt stroked the two men trying to stop him, and then, lightning fast put the shotgun to his shoulder and blew the laptop to smithereens.

  The MAVs stayed in the air. I said, “One’s made it past me!” Hondo ran under the MAVs in a crouch and stopped at
the balcony railing, searching the sky for the small whirring speck.

  John Wesley saw him and yelled from the gate, “Gonna kill you, Wells!” He got off two shots before Jett Sunday drove the GTO through the gates and into the black gunfighter, knocking him and the gates up and over the top of the car. Jett slid the car in a tight donut and came around for another run, but John Wesley was out for the count, with one heavy gate panel lying on top of him. Jett hopped out and ran for the mansion.

  Hondo spotted the MAV sixty feet out, threw the shotgun to his shoulder and blew the plastic insect to smithereens.

  This seemed to agitate the other MAVS and the buzzing got louder. They came faster, a technological cloud of menace and death. I stepped into the center of the open doorway, right in front of the MAVs and the outside sky.

  Hondo yelled at me, “Look out!”

  I said, “Don’t worry, I have another plan!”

  I grabbed the pull handle on the leaf blower and gave a yank. It started on the first pull and I revved it up to Hurricane, rested it against my hip and pointed the blower at the MAVs.

  I yelled, “Say hal-lo to my lee-tle fren!”

  I blew the plastic swarm across the room and into the floor and walls and ceiling. They smashed wings and crashed into each other, then circled around and tried again to get out, but I blew them back again and again until, after a good two minutes, the only sounds were those few broken ones still capable of movement buzzing on the floor as they turned in little circles.

  Hondo tapped me on the shoulder and I turned off the leaf blower. He said, “You do have your moments.”

  I dropped the blower on the floor and looked outside to see two LAPD helicopters landing on the lawn as a news van led police cars from every agency and division through the gate.

  “Hey,” I said, “That’s Marcus and Emma.” I waved at them and they ran for the mansion with the police behind them yelling for them to stop.

  There was a noise behind us and Hondo and I turned toward the hallway door. Ajax Berenko came in the room holding Jett in front of him. His muscled arm was tight around her neck. He held something near her cheek, just below her eye.

  “You have ruined everything,” Ajax said.