Drought (33 page)

‘Nine altogether, boss. All of the team in Eye-Sky Three and four of the team from Eye-Sky Five. Robbins was the only survivor.'

‘Nine,' said Joseph Wrack. ‘
Nine
.'

He walked over to his desk, opened up a silver-plated box, and took out a panatela. He lit it, and for a moment his head disappeared into a cloud of blue smoke. Jim Broader watched him anxiously as he went to the window and stood looking out over East 4th Street.

‘Boss?' he said, after a while. ‘Do you want me to inform their families?'

Joseph Wrack turned around and stared at him as if he had said something blasphemous. ‘Do you know how much an AS-50 AStar actually
costs
?' he asked.

‘Yes, boss. A couple of million, give or take.'

‘Two million three hundred thousand to be more precise. And do you have
any
idea how much we have to pay for insurance?'

‘Yes, boss. I have seen the figures. It's, er – it's a hell of a lot, isn't it?'

‘Yes, Jim. It's a hell of a lot. It's a
hell
of a lot. And in the space of two days, we have also had to write off one prison bus and two brand-new Cadillac Escalades. Our insurance premiums are going to go through the roof. Not to mention what this is doing to our reputation as the Inland Empire's most efficient and trustworthy security service.'

‘Yes, boss.'

Joseph Wrack turned back to the window. There were only a few pedestrians walking along East 4th Street but the way he looked down at them reminded Jim Broader of Harry Lime in
The Third Man
looking down from the fairground carousel at the diminutive people on the ground and asking, ‘
Would you really feel any pity if one of those dots stopped moving forever
?'

Instead, he said, ‘I want a full report on this, Jim. I want to know exactly where and how it happened. I want a detailed cost breakdown, including an estimate of how much excess our insurance companies will expect us to pay. I also want a comprehensive marketing analysis. We need for people to be on our side. We need to evoke sympathy. We lost these nine guys fighting to protect our local community. “Our sacrifice for your safety,” that kind of thing.'

‘How about their families?'

‘Yes, those too. Give me all their contact details. I'll talk to them personally.'

‘I really don't mind doing it myself, boss. I knew most of those men pretty well.'

‘No, no. leave it to me. Breaking the news to a woman that her husband's been killed, that needs
tact
. That needs
compassion
. You wouldn't know compassion if it came up behind you and bit you in your big fat ass.'

Jim Broader stood up straight and tucked in his shirt tail. ‘OK, boss, I'll get on to it.'

‘I don't need it right away, Jim. Tomorrow or the day after, if you like. There's something else you have to do first, and you know what
that
is, don't you?'

‘Boss?'

Joseph Wrack came back across his office and stared at Jim Broader with an idiotic grin on his face.

‘You have to find Martin Makepeace, Jim, that's what you have to do first. You have to find Martin Makepeace and waste him. I don't care how you do it. Just bring me back enough evidence that you've done it. One hand would do. Or even one finger. Or one of his eyeballs. If he's not extinct by this time tomorrow, Jim, I will seriously want to know why.'

Once Jim Broader had gone, Joseph Wrack returned to the black leather couch and the TV news, although he didn't turn the sound back on, and after watching it for only two or three minutes, he switched it off altogether. He had seen enough aerial views of drought-ravaged wheatfields and interviews with politicians who were all furrowing their brows to appear as if they genuinely felt the nation's pain.

‘Goddamned hypocrites,' he said, out loud. He hated hypocrisy. If there was one thing that he had learned from his father, it was that if you are going to be a shit, then act like a shit. Don't go around smiling and clapping people on the back, pretending that you're Mr Appreciative Guy.

He was also too angry to think about the drought. He was so angry that it was knotting up his stomach, as if he had acute diarrhea. He had built up Empire Security Services on the principle of absolutely no compromise. His guards were trained to open fire first and worry about the consequences afterward, and would-be bank robbers and jewel thieves knew that they would, which is why ESS-guarded businesses reported fifty-six percent less attempted crime than businesses guarded by their competitors.

Over the years, Joseph Wrack had tirelessly developed contacts in state and county and city government, as well as the DA's office and the judiciary. Even when his men caused collateral casualties, or shot somebody who simply had the misfortune to look like a robber, they were very rarely prosecuted and even more rarely found guilty.

He stood up, and then he sat down again, biting his knuckle. He felt like calling for a helicopter and going out in search of Martin Makepeace himself, and then strangling him in person. How had Makepeace
dared
to wreck his bus and his SUVs and his helicopter and put ten of his men out of action? Jesus – he was only some pissant social worker in the children's department.

There was another knock at the door.
Not Jim Broader again with yet another of his
dumbass questions
. But a smart young black woman in a pink floral blouse and high-waisted white slacks came in. She had a short shiny bob streaked with pink and she was immaculately groomed, her cheekbones emphasized with rose-colored blusher, her lips painted in a cupid's bow, her long nails perfectly polished. She wore heavy-rimmed, upswept spectacles, which made her look academic as well as sexy.

‘Abelina!' said Joseph Wrack, standing up again. ‘Haven't seen you since
when,
for Christ's sake?'

Abelina King waved one hand from side to side and wrinkled up her nose. ‘Still smoking those cat turds, Joseph?'

‘It's the coffee that comes from cat turds, Abelina. What I smoke is the finest Havana panatelas.'

‘Whatever you say, J.W. They still
smell
like cat turds.'

‘What the hell are
you
doing in town?' Joseph Wrack asked her. ‘I thought you were permanently based in LA these days.'

‘I am, J.W., I am. I only came back to get my mother. I heard about the riots and I thought it was time to get her out of here. Mind you, we've had riots in LA, too. Six people got killed in Crenshaw only the day before yesterday. There was nothing on the news about it, but my friend told me. It doesn't seem like there's
nothing
on the news these days except “don't use too much water and everything's going to be fine”. Yeah, right … just as soon as it starts to rain again.'

‘So, how can I help you?' asked Joseph Wrack. ‘Sit down, why don't you? How about a cup of coffee?'

‘Cat turd coffee? No thanks. Anyhow, I've come here to help
you
, not the other way about.'

‘Oh, yeah? And how are you going to do that?'

‘Your man got in touch with me. What's his name, the guy with the breath that smells like onions. Jim something. Used to be a cop.'

‘Jim Broader? He's my deputy. He's OK, Jim, apart from the breath, and he's not exactly Einstein. But he keeps the troops in order, and he's wily enough. After all, what we're looking to do here is keep banks from being robbed, not work out if we can travel backward in time.'

Abelina King sat down on the edge of the black leather couch and crossed her legs. ‘A glass of water would be good,' she said. Joseph Wrack went across to the fridge in the corner of his office and took out a bottle of Arrowhead.

‘You want to drink this slow, and savor every drop,' he told her, as he poured it out for her. ‘This is worth its weight in water.'

‘Thanks,' said Abelina King. ‘Jim Thing said you were interested in Saskia Vane, and whatever involvement she might have with Governor Smiley.'

‘That's right. Halford told me that Saskia Vane owes him some kind of a favor, but he wouldn't tell me what it is.'

‘And what makes
you
so curious?'

Joseph Wrack gave her a tight, humorless smile. ‘I'm curious about everybody and everything, Abelina. It's my job. The more I know, the less I get taken by surprise. And you know me. I don't like surprises. They give me heartburn.'

‘Well, I don't know everything, J.W., and what I do know I don't know for certain. But Saskia Vane used to be married, not too many years ago. Her maiden name I think was something like Kaminski or Kaplinski or Kaplonski, something Polish anyhow. She was an attorney, and she met David Vane when she was defending him on a charge of possession. He was a record promoter. You've heard of Mind Explosion? Lenny Lucas and the Angels? Kathy Rose Duncan?'

‘Yes, I've heard of them,' said Joseph Wrack, impatiently. ‘Mind Explosion were crap. But go on.'

‘During his trial, Saskia became
totally
besotted with David Vane and after he was acquitted they got married. From what I heard, though, it wasn't an easy marriage. A broken plate special, if you know what I mean. David Vane was an irredeemable cokehead and very generous with his affections to all of the teenage girls who used to come backstage at his concerts, while Saskia on the other hand was domineering and
very
possessive and always needed to take control.'

‘So – OK – where does Halford Smiley come into this?'

Abelina lifted one cautionary finger. ‘This I got third- or maybe even
fourth
-hand, so I can't swear to you, J.W., that it's true. But I do know for certain that Halford Smiley and David Vane had known each other since college, or even further back than that. They had hung out together, shared girlfriends together, smoked pot together, like who didn't?

‘Halford Smiley as you know ended up marrying Mona Van Pelt, and I don't think anybody is under any illusion as to
why
he married her. It begins with “m” and ends with “y” and rhymes with “honey”. Mona was amazing looking, no question. She still is. But she's always been a frigid stuck-up society bitch who has no interests in life except for her charities and her Chihuahuas. The only things that really turn Mona on are her dogs' undying devotion and other people's abject gratitude.

‘Whenever Mona was away on one of her charity trips to Africa, or wherever, Halford Smiley would throw parties and have his friends around, as well as quite a few girls. S and M parties, that's what I was told. Leather and whips and handcuffs, that kind of a party.'

‘Yes, I heard about those,' said Joseph Wrack. ‘I seem to remember that
The National Enquirer
were all ready to run a story about them, weren't they, but Halford managed to get an injunction.'

‘Not without a little help from Saskia Vane,' said Abelina. ‘Apart from the fact that she was a hotshot lawyer, she and her husband had been to those parties, too. I think she was just as anxious as Halford Smiley that the details wouldn't come out.'

‘I still don't get it,' said Joseph Wrack. ‘From what you're saying it sounds like Halford owed Saskia Vane the favor, not the other way about.'

‘I know … and like I say, I was never told about any of this first-hand. I'm a studio publicist, J.W., not a news reporter. I wasn't going to go digging to find out what really happened. All I know is that about six months after
The National Enquirer
thing, David Vane was found dead. He was discovered in his own home, but what the news reports
didn't
say was that he and Saskia had been to one of Halford Smiley's parties the previous evening.'

‘So what was the cause of death?'

‘The coroner said auto-erotic asphyxiation. Strangled himself to get his jollies. You know, like David Carradine maybe did.'

‘I'm still at a loss here. What exactly are you suggesting? Do you think that David Vane might have died at Halford's party, and that they might have smuggled his body back to his own home, so that Halford wouldn't be implicated?
That
wouldn't have done Saskia any favors.'

‘I'm sorry, J.W., that's all I know,' said Abelina. ‘If you want to find out more, you'll have to find it out for yourself. Me and my mother are leaving town. She's waiting for me downstairs, in reception.'

‘OK,' said Joseph Wrack. He sat there for a moment, thinking, and then he stood up. ‘Thanks for coming in, Abelina. It's been great to see you again, whatever.'

Abelina stood up, too. ‘I can't tell you something that I don't know, J.W. No point in making it up, either. You make things up, you always get found out, in the end.'

Joseph Wrack opened the door for her, and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Safe journey back to LA,' he told her.

When she had gone, however, he went over to the map on the wall, and stood in front of it, breathing hard. He traced his finger across it until he found Big Morongo Canyon Preserve. Then he punched it so hard that he made a triangular tear in the map itself, and dented the plaster wall behind it.

‘I
'm dying,' said Saskia. ‘In fact, I wish I
could
die. Just close my eyes and never wake up.'

‘Have another drink,' Martin told her. ‘You're probably dehydrated. Dehydration lowers your blood pressure, makes you feel depressed.'

‘If I have to drink any more warm Mountain Dew I'm going to throw up, I swear it.'

‘Just try to hold on. Santos said that we should get there pretty soon.'

‘I don't care any more, Martin. I really don't. I'm dying.'

They had been jolting across the desert of the Joshua Tree National Park now for over five hours, while the sun sank behind them and the sky turned scarlet, so that Martin felt as if they were driving through a 1950s' sci-fi movie like
Forbidden Planet
. There were mountains in the distance which never seemed to come any closer, and all around them stretched mile after mile of desiccated creosote bushes and the weird fuzzy shapes of Joshua trees. Ella was asleep on the back seat and little Mina was sleeping, too, with her head resting in Saskia's lap, whistling through one blocked nostril.