Aphrodisiac (31 page)

Time stopped. My mind raced.

And beneath my whirling thoughts was Walsh, saying, “Been working on them for quite a while. They’re called…Chub Dubs.”

The pieces all fit. The crullers. The thugs in the bakery. Plunkett’s remarks about women. And about his big dick. On impulse I reached for Walsh’s arm and pulled up his coat sleeve. Number twelve in bold black ink. “Binnie, open the door!”

She struggled with the handle, but we were locked in. Through the window I saw the giant steel door to the Blazing Donutz loading dock roll up. The limo drove straight into the garage-like space. No. This couldn’t be happening.

Walsh sat back, his expression smug.

I banged on the opaque Plexiglas behind the driver. “Stop the car. Let us out!”

The limo came to a halt, the Plexiglas partition slid open, and from the driver’s seat another familiar face turned to greet us.

Curtis Bardarson.

Four men surrounded the limousine. The pair who met me at the bridge yanked Benita and me from the back seat. They held us at gunpoint in the center of the garage. My jaw dropped as I watched this crew of heavies cowing down to Walsh Plunkett, who stepped out of the car, his normally blank visage suddenly riddled with furious disapproval.

Still, his voice remained constrained, tight, oddly polite, when he asked, “How did these women escape?”

One of the men nervously answered. “Don’t ask me, boss. We turn around and next thing we see, Fleeger’s tearing down the stairs with the two bitches.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they offered him sex.”

I was stunned. The little man with the big feet was the boss all right. “So, Walsh is one who had Gwen murdered,” I murmured to Binnie.

“I never did like the guy,” she said.

“What kind of shrink am I that I didn’t see through him?”

Curtis stood at his boss’s elbow, obviously his number one man. “Think Fleeger would go to the cops?” he asked.

Plunkett shook his head. “So he can get himself convicted of the crimes he took part in? No. Gil’s bulb may be dim, but the filament isn’t totally gone.” Suddenly Walsh wheeled his attentions around to me and Benita, as if an idea had come into his head. Stepping closer, he sniffed the air within inches of my body. “I thought I recognized that smell in the car. You’re wearing it aren’t you?”

Dammit. He knew the scent of Heaven’s Daughter. Not good for my plan. Had his boys found some in Gwen’s home lab? Hard to believe she’d have left the perfume sitting there, considering the place I discovered it. “Too bad it was such a short ride,” I said. “You could’ve been next.”

Although he backed back away a few steps, the beady eyes behind Plunkett’s black-rimmed glasses fixed on me with a chilling look. “Where’s the rest of the perfume? My searches have turned up nothing. And that homosexual swore to us his measly sample was all that was left.”

Which meant that I had Gwen’s only remaining samples. They must have taken poor Tim’s precious half a vial after beating him nearly to death. And to think I’d once felt sorry for Walsh. Boy, did I read this guy wrong. I felt like pouncing on the arrogant, murdering prick and strangling him myself, except the guns pointed at Benita and me deterred my impulse. I returned his cold stare with silence.

“There’s nothing more ridiculous than a female who tries to outsmart a man,” Plunkett said. “I read the reports my computer expert acquired for me. The effects of the fragrance you inflicted upon Fleeger usually dissipate into grogginess in a few hours. He’ll sleep it off and come crawling back to me. But he’s the last man who’ll ever be poisoned by it.”

He turned to one of his lackeys. “Get the hoses. Give her a good soaking.” Switching his attention to Benita. “She’s probably clean, but douse her anyway. Can’t take chances.”

Two brawny men in a plaid short-sleeved shirts and khaki pants faced us with utility hoses that were probably used to wash the trucks and the loading dock. Jets of water that felt like cold hammers pummeled Benita and me. Any attempt to crouch or to cover ourselves with our arms was thwarted by Plunkett who made us turn around slowly with arms outstretched until we were soaked from head to toe.

“That’s right. Keep rotating,” Plunkett said to us. “I want every bit of it removed.”

A burst of water found its way down my throat, forcing me to cough and gag, sparking my anger. I let my tongue fly. “I hope you know by killing Gwen you lost the formula forever. She had the tablet’s complete instructions in her head. Nowhere else. There may other scholars who try to recreate it for you, but I’d bet a million there’s not a soul left in the world who can figure out the formula the way she did. You’ll never be able to market that perfume.”

Plunkett waved his hands crisscross to the guys with the hoses. “Enough.” Our visit to Waterworld was over. Benita and I stood there wet and shivering.

He raised his voice for all to hear. “She thinks we’re out to market the perfume. Wrong, Dr. Oz. That perfume is a danger to our society. I must have the tablet in my possession to ensure that no one will
ever
market that perfume. It will be as if it never even existed.”

I’d been so certain it was greed, jealousy or vanity motivating the one who murdered Gwen. Apparently she wasn’t the only one obsessed with the world-changing effects Heaven’s Daughter could produce.

The rant Plunkett launched into made that all too clear. “You all saw what happened here tonight. Gilbert Fleeger was transformed into a spineless jellyfish after less than an hour of being exposed to that poisonous fragrance. He lost control of his actions and became enslaved to a woman. This is what I mean when I speak of the dangers.”

His voice grew sharper and louder. “And this is why we will find that tablet and destroy it. As long as it exists, there is a threat to the natural order. Women with the unbridled powers to control men will spread in numbers. Increasing their influence beyond the household to total domination of businesses, the government, even the military. The divine right of man to have rule over women will be in jeopardy.”

Walsh looked like he was on the verge of a psychotic episode. Somebody really did a trip on this guy’s head when he was growing up. Hmm. Maybe Daddy was a misogynistic dictator. Son usually feels compelled to be just like him in order to feel powerful. Or maybe an overbearing mommy kept daddy’s wee-wee in a jar and treated little Walsh like a worthless dweeb, giving him reason to exact his revenge on womanhood.

Plunkett’s next words brought me out of my speculations about his psychological history. “You said Dr. Oz had the tablet.” He gestured to the hefty fellow who brought me into the bakery.

Benita wide-eyed me. I didn’t dare indicate the truth. As it was, she didn’t have long to wait for it. The man walked over and handed Plunkett the Aunt Lana special. I held my breath.

Plunkett took a quick glance at the newly baked pottery and snickered. “Professor,” he said, holding it out to him like some worthless token. Which it was.

Dr. Garadasi came forward looking very…oh no…professorial. He removed a magnifying glass from his jacket pocket. Lifting his arm to examine the ceramic in the light, his coat sleeve rode up along his forearm, revealing what appeared to be a black ink tattoo of the number ten. One of the boys.

“A total fake,” Garadasi said. “Trash.”

Walsh didn’t even blink at the news. However, the skin on his face seemed to draw back in a tight mask of suffocated rage. As usual his words came out carefully controlled. “Time’s up, Doctor. You are now going to tell me where it is.” He motioned to his ace killer.

Curtis lifted a large semi automatic pistol and walked over to Benita. He placed it next to her head.

“Where is it?” Plunkett asked, cold and businesslike.

My courageous roommate had seen her share of violence growing up in El Barrio, and she had plenty of mental toughness from her years in the ring, but nothing could have prepared her for this. I could see she was doing her best to brace up, but she couldn’t hide the tension in her neck, the dread in her face and finally the tears silently trickling from her eyes.

A part of me refused to believe this nightmare was really happening. I’d already lost Gwen. Was I about to see my other best friend murdered right before me? There had to be a way out of this. I reminded myself that Lana had informed the police I was headed to the anchorage. My cell was gone, but they’d still have some way of finding us, wouldn’t they?

“Tell me or she’s dead,” demanded the little bully in thick-framed glasses.

My body went rigid, a silent scream bursting in my chest. Time to give it up. I had to save Benita. Except, I knew they’d kill us anyway once they had the tablet. How could I have failed so miserably? Gwen’s death and her desperate suicide note to me would be for nothing. There had to be some other way.

He gave the nod and Curtis cocked his pistol.

“Mississippi!” I blurted out.

“What was that?” Plunkett said.

“The tablet’s in Mississippi,” I said firmly, jutting my chin forward with that kind of certitude that would hopefully gain his confidence.

“Where in Mississippi?” Walsh asked.

“Just outside the town of Pearl. Near a place called the Jewel Motor Lodge. Gwen buried it behind the lodge in the woods.” I had no idea what I was saying. I only knew I had to keep Curtis from pulling the trigger. And I wanted to send Plunkett on a goose chase to that would buy some time for Binnie and me to try and escape from here. And time to be found. “You can book a flight to Jackson. From there it’s an easy drive to the Jewel.”

“Book a flight?” Plunkett gave me a terse smile. “My company jets can fly me anywhere I please. But I also happen to be a top-notch pilot, and since this is a private little trip, I’ll take my Cessna Skyhawk. It’s parked out at my New Jersey estate.” He turned to Curtis. “You’ll drive us there now.”

The Monster uncocked his gun and slid it back inside his belt. I was afraid I’d break down if I looked Benita full in the face, but a peripheral glance told me she was pale and shaken.

Walsh faced Garadasi. “My plane’s only a four-seater. I’ll contact you when I have the tablet.” He ordered one of his men to drive the professor home.

“What do we about Gil?” asked Mr. Plaid Shirt, expert with the hose.

“As I said, Fleeger doesn’t worry me,” Plunkett replied. “Mark my words. You’ll see him back here in a few hours when the perfume’s effects wear off.” He looked over to Curtis. “Cuff them, tape their feet and mouths. Throw them in the back of the Rolls. We are going to Mississippi.”

We? Did he mean
us
? My knees almost buckled beneath me when suddenly I felt my arms being jerked behind my back. Next came the vice grip of cold steel biting into my wrists, the screeching of duct tape being yanked off the roll then slapped across my mouth and drawn around my ankles.

“They’re wet,” Plunkett said. “Put them on the floor or it’ll ruin the leather seats.”

We were dragged like sacks of produce and tossed into the Rolls Royce. At least this time we were being kidnapped in style.

TWENTY-NINE

It was almost dawn. We had crossed into Manhattan, headed up the West Side Highway and were now on the George Washington Bridge. Curtis was driving. He’d locked all doors and windows with the master switch. And we could forget trying to signal for help. The tinted one-way windows took care of that. Walsh “Chub Dubs” Plunkett sat next to him, avoiding the soggy

bundles on the floor in the back. But he could check on us easily, now that the Plexiglas divider between the front and back seats was left open.

My buddy and I huddled together, wet and cold, our nerves on edge. Neither of us had slept since we left East Hampton Friday morning. Hard to believe it was only last night when I’d felt so safe and happy with Eldridge holding me in his arms twenty stories above the ground. I wondered if I should’ve told him where and when my “meeting” was. Except, knowing the Mace-man, he’d probably rather get himself killed than call in the police. How
were
we going to get out of this?

Benita and I managed to sit up so we could see our abductors as well as the signs on the highway. Being able to watch where they were taking us might have lessened my anxiety if I hadn’t heard Walsh tell his well-endowed hit man it wouldn’t be necessary to blindfold us. Why wasn’t it necessary? I doubted it was because he figured I already knew his NJ address. No. He intended this to be a one-way trip.

We were driving along the Palisades Parkway. Plunkett didn’t speak to Curtis except to give orders. He was totally focused on the tiny screen of his Blackberry.

Curtis, obviously bored, started talking to himself. Or so I thought at first. I saw him tilt his back and cast a peripheral eye in my direction. “I’ll never forget that night on the pier. That Applebee dog looked like a clown, the way she flailed her arms when I tossed her in. Her hair all flying wild and her pants billowed out.”

He paused, obviously savoring the horrified silence of his captive listeners. “Wasn’t supposed to snuff her until I got the tablet, but the bitch was a tough nut. Didn’t beg, didn’t cry. No fun at all. No matter how much I played with her. Puttin’ the gun to her head, describing the way I’d blow her skullcap off. Made it clear she was gonna die if she didn’t cooperate. If I coulda smacked her around, messed her up a little, that would’ve helped. But the boss here didn’t want nobody searching if she went missing. Insisted it look like a fuckin’ suicide.”

Tears welled up, but I blinked them back, fighting for control. If only we had Benita’s tape recorder now.

A quiet chuckle from the Monster. “Easiest part was getting her to polish off a couple bottles of vodka. Man that dog could guzzle.”

Which meant Benita had guessed right. They’d forced Gwen to get too intoxicated to swim. I glanced at my buddy. Her jaw was clenched, her muscles taut with combative energy. Good thing our mouths were taped or her verbal response might have inspired Curtis’s violent nature.

Just as I thought his sadistic little monolog was over, he continued in an irritated tone. “Stubborn bitch, too. Man, did I ever want to bust her. All she had to do was say she was tired of living and sign her damn name. But she insisted poems was her special way of writin’ to her friends. Said no one would believe otherwise. Boss didn’t want no bruises, so I go for my knife. Between her hand quivering and that bullshit gibberish on her papers, I figured she was ready to crack. But she keeps crumpling up papers and startin’ over. Lookin’ down her nose at me, telling me she’s an
artist
. Big fuckin’ deal.”

Curtis yawned. “Yeah, me and my homeys combed every inch of your friend’s grimy warehouse looking for that tablet. Left everything in place that night. Careful to leave no prints. Went back a few times after. Came up empty except for the journal. Good thing Walsh read the damn thing. It led us straight to you, sweetpussy.”

Plunkett said nothing during all this. Never lifted his eyes from his Blackberry. Not a shred of remorse or sadness for Gwen’s lost life. Who did I despise more, this demented hit man or his cold-blooded boss? The big Monster or the little one? After a few minutes he spoke in that same bland voice. “Reservations to land are set for Mississippi. But the airport says they’re backed up. We’ll have to hang out a couple hours before we fly down.”

Had we caught a break? Could we somehow use the time at his house to escape and call the police? I gave Benita a hopeful look, but she just stared mutely out the window at the sky. I wanted so badly to hug her and share a good cry, but that was definitely out of the picture for now.

I closed my eyes and dropped my head to my knees. It seemed like ages since I saw the Brooklyn Botanic Garden poster in Lady Viv’s office that reminded me of where Gwen’s tablet really was. Everything happened too fast for me to process. Mr. Fellows murdered, Binnie held captive. Had Lana convinced the cops to look for us? But how would they ever find us now?

My big plans for using Heaven’s Daughter to overpower the gang were literally washed down the drain. At least I made it work on Fleeger. No doubt the coward deserted us out on Jay Street because he saw his boss’s limo heading our way. If only we had kept on running instead of hopping into Plunkett’s stinking car. Now I was left with only one card to play—Walsh couldn’t find the tablet’s location unless I remained alive.

***

The morning sun was full and bright when Plunkett’s Rolls-Royce Phantom stopped at a wrought iron gate. I saw a surveillance camera mounted on top. Curtis Bardarson reached his arm out the window and punched in a computer code, which allowed us to enter. We drove down a winding road past rolling hills and fields, patches of trees and streams.

“Look around,” Curtis said. “A hundred acres. You got nowhere to run this time.” My heart sank.

As we rounded the bend, I saw a single-engine airplane on a landing strip near the edge of the surrounding forest. In the distance there was a cottage, tennis courts, a pool, and finally a plain, white but stately colonial manor with a semi-circular drive that branched off to the side of the house. We parked in front. The back door to the Rolls swung open. Chub Dubs and Curtis stood there peering down at us.

“Undo their feet,” Plunkett said. “Unless you feel like carrying them.”

The Monster reached in and ripped the tape from our ankles practically scraping a layer of skin off my leg with his coarse fingers. “Basement?” he asked, while hauling us out of the car.

Plunkett nodded. “Use the storage room.” The spry and deeply deranged Walsh Plunkett scampered up the stairs to the porch and unlocked the door.

Walking between us, Curtis clamped one hand on my arm and the other on Benita’s, pulling us forcefully alongside him. “Yo, boss,” he called.

Plunkett glanced back at him.

“Since we got ourselves some time. What about the other thing?” Curtis asked.

“Other thing?”

“You remember what we talked about.”

“Oh, that,” Plunkett said. “Go on. Have your fun.”

Was it time for my private session with the Monster? He leveled his awful slit-eyes directly on me as if he was checking out the dessert trolley. I shuddered. Benita shuffled closer to me protectively.

Walsh disappeared into the house. Giving us no time to look around, Curtis hustled us down the central hallway to a flight of stairs. Was this to be the site of his dirty deed? Was he going to include Benita? I wanted to bolt, but I knew I wouldn’t get far, especially considering the proximity of the gun tucked in his belt.

We descended into a wood-paneled room, its white wall-to-wall carpeting dense and spotless. A red leather sofa with matching chairs formed a square in front of a large cookie-thin TV. A gun rack and a pair of movie posters featuring John Wayne and Bruce Willis hung on one wall.

On the opposite wall hung a collection of framed photographs. They appeared to be group portraits of men. I noticed that they were all members of some bizarre association. The shiny gold lettering across the bottom of each photo read “Forever Our Right.” I could swear I’d heard of that somewhere.

I stepped closer to a solo portrait, guessing who it would be. Walsh Plunkett. The lettering on it said he was founder and president of Forever Our Right. Next to the picture was a lengthy paragraph referring to the founder’s philosophy behind his organization. I began a quick scan of it, but my eye was caught by a familiar face in a photo that pictured only three men. Plunkett, a man I didn’t know and…Kyle Drummond. The late CEO of Milotech Pharmaceuticals.

Connecting the dots was easy. Walsh must have found out about Gwen’s perfume from Kyle Drummond, who learned about it from Tim Donnelly. Was Tim right? Would Chub Dubs Plunkett continue his maniacal campaign until the perfume and everyone connected with it were destroyed?

Before I could catch Benita’s attention, the Monster told us to keep walking until we entered a rear corridor with a white cement floor. It dead-ended in a laundry area. Across from that was a door with a padlock. One guess who was going in there. I began to hyperventilate. My feet felt like lead. I had no plan. I wasn’t ready. Would I ever be?

Curtis shoved us into the windowless storage room. He must have noticed my relief when he said, “Gotta go have a bite,” because he continued with, “Don’t worry, Doc, I’ll be back. We’re gonna spend some downtime together.”

The door slammed shut. We heard the clicking sound of the lock and Curtis walking away. Mercifully he left the light switch on. First thing I did was to stand behind Benita and lower my face to her cuffed hands. She tore at the tape on my mouth, and I returned the favor for her.

“I am not going to let myself be violated by that monster,” I said, near hysteria.

“And we can’t get on that plane,” Benita added. “It’s a one-way ticket.”

Like this wasn’t. But I forced that thought away. “Maybe we can jump on Curtis when he comes back. Take his gun.”

“Get real. Our hands are cuffed behind our backs, the guy weighs more than both of us combined, and he’s not dumb. He only looks it.”

We sank awkwardly to the floor. Sans sleep, we were both running on empty. At least I’d had the meal Aunt Lana fixed for me last night. I knew my buddy hadn’t eaten since yesterday. I’d never seen Benita look so totally dejected. I tried to bring back the determined spark that usually lit her eyes. “It isn’t over yet. We’re going to survive this and make them pay.”

I stood up and began searching the room for a possible escape route. We were surrounded by boxes and metal shelves containing everything from laundry detergent, paper towels and shampoo to an old ink-jet printer, a Monopoly game, and a stack of
Playboy
magazines. However…next to the magazines I spied a lavender carton with a familiar logo. Do-Me-Good’s twelve-bottle variety pack of personal lubricants and lotions in different flavors. “Binnie, look. This is Walsh’s purchase from my sex toy demo party. At least I had some positive influence on him.” Luckily it was on one of the lower shelves. I began pawing at it with my foot until it fell to the floor. “Hasn’t been opened yet. Come help me.”

She rolled her eyes, but joined me. “I hope you’ve got something brilliant in mind.”

Prying the box with our hands behind us, and sometimes kneeling on it and using our teeth, we managed to tear the seals, lift the cardboard lid and open a few squeeze bottles. “Put it all over my wrists,” I said, “and then I’ll do yours. See if we can slide our hands through these cuffs.”

We gobbed up the skin around our handcuffs and went to work feverishly. Who knew when the Monster would return? “Did you see the photos?” I asked while my hands wriggled away madly inside the cuffs.

“Didn’t really look at them. I was watching Bardarson.”

“I’m sure now that Plunkett found out about Gwen through Kyle Drummond.” I told her what I’d seen and the name of the group founded by Plunkett. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

She gave me a half-smile. “Because about five years ago Forever Our Right had a website, hate blog and all. It was this paranoid extremist group. At one point they were under investigation for harassing outspoken women with leftist ideas. But they kind of went low profile after being implicated in the disappearance of that female journalist who did those articles on battered women’s shelters.”

I drew a short breath. “I remember now. Nobody could prove anything.”

“And knowing what Plunkett did to Gwen, I’ll bet all those other allegations were true.”

“No surprise that he’s the founder.” Did I sense my knuckles moving ever so slightly through the cuff? Success. My right hand popped out. “Having munchkin hands definitely has its benefits,” I murmured. “And so does using Do-Me-Good products.” I brought both hands in front and began working to free my left.

Across from me, Benita’s struggle for emancipation wasn’t going quite as well. Shoulders and arms twitching, she grimaced in frustration. “My big mitts are good for boxing, but they suck when it comes to playing Houdini.”

The jiggling of the padlock. Oh no. In a panic, I stuck my hands behind my back. No chance to get the jump on Curtis. From here on, I’d just have to improvise.

“Up,” he said as soon as he stepped through the door.

I froze.

Curtis reached down, grabbed my arm and hoisted me to my feet.

“Keep your filthy hands off her, you sick sonofabitch!” Benita slammed against him with her body, valiantly trying to stop him from taking me.

Curtis grabbed her by the face and sent her crashing backwards into a pile of boxes. She lay there moaning.

“I’ll be back, Binnie, I promise,” I vowed as he dragged me out the door.

My mouth went into overdrive. I hurled every nasty insult I could come up with at him. It didn’t make the terror disappear, but it sure felt therapeutic.

Gripping my upper arm, the Monster took me out a cellar door that led to the back yard. “Straight ahead,” he said, steering me in the direction of the guesthouse, a gray cottage with pink shutters. My legs felt like rubber. I’d kept my wrists crossed behind my back, with the left hand that was still cuffed hiding the right hand that was freed, its fingers merely gripping the cuff. The gun in Curtis’s belt was within reach. I just had to wait for the right time. I swallowed hard. Could I do it?