twenty-three

Mallen headed across the Golden Gate, heading for somewhere he could upload and look at the files on that flash drive. God but did he need to get his own computer. Didn’t want to do this in the city. He began to feel that he needed to make his trips into the city as few as possible, and as short as possible, if at all possible. His phone rang and he checked the number. Shit. Gwen. The timing was too good to be just a coincidence. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound upbeat. “What’s up, Gwen?”

The moment she answered him, he knew she was pissed. Very. “Where are you?”

“Crossing the bridge on my way back to the Batcave.”

“Ha ha ha fucking funny. We need to talk.”

“Not much to talk about. I haven’t done that much, yet.”

“You keep telling me that. It’s starting to piss me off.”

“Only starting?” he said with a smile. “Look, I think I’m opening it all up, slowly though. Like a rusty old can.”

“You’re shit at metaphors, Mallen.”

“I’m a recovering junkie on a case, not a fuckin’ writer. What do you want from me, yeah?” After a moment, he added, “What’s this all about, anyway? You sound harried. More so than usual.”

“I’m heading to Bayview.”

“Yeah? Why there?”

“Because a call came in about twenty minutes ago that a neighbor heard gunfire, then nothing. Then not long after that, she saw someone walking down the street to a truck.”

“And? She get a good look at him? This guy?”

“Not so good, no.”

“Why are you on it, anyway? You the only homicide detective in the city?”

“I’m on it because when the uniform got there, he found Jimmy Karachi shot to shit. The uniform knew that I was looking for anyone who was a known acquaintance with Yates.”

“And he’s dead?”

“Dead as disco. Oh, and his place had been gone over. They’d even dug through the wall safe.”

Fuck … He’d forgotten to close the door and return the keys to Karachi’s corpse. “Any idea what went down?”

She spoke quietly then, “I lied when I said there was no description of the person walking up the street. Tall. Dressed in black. Dark hair. Went to some sort of truck and took off.”

He remained silent until she spoke again. Mallen knew better than to say anything at this point. Let her open up on her own. Show her hand first. “I know it was you, Mallen. We need to talk. And I mean right now. What did you get from Karachi’s place?”

“I’ll be home soon,” he replied. “Come there and we’ll talk. I’m not doing this over the phone.”

“So you did find something?”

“See you when you get here.” Cut off the call. His mind raced as to what the fuck to do with all this. He needed time to look through the book and the flash drive. How to keep them both out of Gwen’s hands? If he had to, he could give over the flash drive. Pulled out the book as he drove. Glanced at it, other hand on the wheel. There was some sort of code there. Each page had the same design. A large, capitalized first line, coded, then a paragraph or two more of the same code, regularly written.

He wondered about the writings. If it was the creation of Karachi, then it was fucking unlikely that it could ever be broken. Man, if there was ever a time he wished he was Sherlock Holmes, it was now. Ol’ Sherlock could break it, just like he figured out that dancing man code bullshit in The Dancing Men story.

The moon was still high when Mallen pulled Mr. Gregor’s Land Cruiser into the lot. Killed the engine and got out, leaving his newly acquired arsenal stashed under the backseat. He’d come for it when it was dark.

The salt smell was a welcome thing. It immediately relaxed him and he just wanted to get inside his floating hovel. Remembered he had to write that rent check. While he was still alive. As he went down the dock he tried to figure out what to do with Gwen when she showed up.

He glanced at Gregor’s home as he walked past. There were already lights on, glimmering dimly through the crazy patchwork windows on the upper story. Every time he looked at that floating home, he was still amazed that the man had built that fucking thing on his own. Crazy.

If Mallen had been paying attention, rather than reflecting on floating homes, codebooks, and undercover cops who were acting not like cops, he would’ve felt someone come up behind him. As it was, one moment he was walking then the next he felt the barrel of a gun shoved into his back, just below the right ribs.

“Don’t you fucking make a move, asshole,” said the voice. Mallen knew immediately it must be Lucas. The voice had that weathered, used-up quality to it that long-time abuser gets. Mallen had to admit as he was walked forward to the door of his home that he wasn’t so much impressed with Lucas as he was pissed at himself for acting like a rookie.

“Open your fucking door, shitbag,” Lucas hissed at him. The gun was right there, pushed hard into him. “Slowly.”

Mallen pulled out his keys and opened the door. He was even more impressed when Lucas didn’t shove him through the door. In fact he walked Mallen forward into the main room. “Take off your jacket,” he was ordered. Nice, the guy wasn’t even going to take the chance of checking the pockets. Where the fuck had Lucas learned this crap? TV? Mallen’s blood boiled as he slowly took his coat off, letting it fall to the ground, the gun making a dull thud. He would have to try something, and soon. No fucking way was he going to let Lucas leave with that flash drive and codebook.

No fucking way.

“Turn around,” Lucas told him. “I want you to see it coming.”

Mallen did as he was told. “You sound like something out of a Bogart film. You killed Dreamo, fuckhead.”

“Yeah, and? Guy would never deal to me.”

“Guy had standards.”

Lucas’s eyes turned to slits and the gun lashed out too fast for Mallen to duck or fall back. The barrel caught him across the cheek. He could feel the blood starting to flow. But if Lucas thought it would have some sort of effect on Mallen, he was very, very wrong. With what he’d been through the last couple months, a gun barrel across the cheek was a lover’s caress. Mallen barely blinked. Only slowly raised his hand to check how badly he was bleeding. Not so bad.

“Ouch,” Mallen said. Oh yeah, he wanted to kill this fucker. Kill him bad. And he would, if he got the chance. The killing of Dreamo and Blackmore was enough, but who knew what other shit this predator had done? Guys like this just don’t wake up one day like this. No, it takes time. Time and practice.

“Blackmore gave you my name,” Lucas said in a flat tone. “I got him. And now I’m going to get you.”

“So fucking what if Blackmore gave me your name? I’m a nobody, man. I just needed some answers about Hendrix’s death. I found him in his wagon a couple days ago. You gotta know he’s dead, right?”

“I’d heard.”

“He was into something. Something out of the ordinary, and—”

“Dam fucking right he was,” Lucas replied. “Asshole disappears, then comes the fuck back totally flush with bills and smack. But would he share? No. And after all the times me and that cunt Shannon stood for him at Blackmore’s, pawning crap with him to get some dough so we could get high, man. That wasn’t cool. Fuck Hendrix.”

“Yeah, fuck him. But I’m just trying to find a friend’s missing girl is all, so I needed to track down all leads. It wasn’t personal. I just wanted to talk.”

“Talk? Well, you can talk to God now,” Lucas said with a smile. Like he was pleased with having replied in that way, with those words.

“You really need to work on your thug banter, man,” Mallen replied. Regretted it as Lucas stepped closer. He could even see the proverbial finger tightening on the trigger. “So Hendrix wouldn’t share with you, yeah?” He just needed some more time to figure out how to take Lucas down. Just a few seconds more … .

“Fuck talking man. Now you die. Can’t have people asking after me, or people giving out info on me. No can do. That one time, the last time I saw that fuck Hendrix, he was running his mouth about all sorts of shit.”

“Yeah? Running his mouth?”

“It was early morning. I’d run into him going back to that bullshit wagon that the cops wouldn’t touch. I wish I had those kinds of connections. The fuckhole. He was all proud of his dough and dope. He practically made me beg for some dope. Told me to come back later. Then he took off, just like that. Ran off. Lying sack of shit. I told Shannon later I knew he’d been lying.”

“Well, I’d heard Hendrix was a liar,” Mallen answered. Figured it would keep Lucas going and that was a good thing: keep him talking, not shooting.

“Damn fucking right he was a liar,” came the reply. “Always saying he ‘knew the folks downtown.’ Always said it, just like that. Would sometimes brag about it. Well, everyone on the street had figured that one out. I mean … . The wagon, right? I’d only ever seen cops around there once or twice.”

Mallen looked around the room then. “Hey, you give a dying man one last cigarette? Like they used to do in the movies?”

When Lucas seemed not to like that suggestion, Mallen continued quickly, “Look, I’m a recovering junkie, right? We smoke all the fucking time, yeah? I just … just wanna smoke man. I’ll smoke fast, I swear.”

Lucas spied a pack on the nearby table. Never took his eyes off Mallen as he scooped them up and tossed them at him. Mallen again was impressed with how cautious Lucas was. This guy had been something else before he’d become a street viper. As Mallen pulled a cig from the pack, reaching for a nearby pack of matches, he said casually, “You move like you were Army. Army?”

“Fuck you,” came the reply.

“Ah. Marine.” Mallen lit the cigarette and blew out the match, tossing it into the ashtray. Get them used to the small movements, he’d always been told. The small movements, then hit them with the big one. He took a deep drag of the cigarette.

“Put your hands back up,” Lucas told him as he moved in. Mallen tensed, but he’d taken the cigarette out of his mouth just before Lucas has given him the order.

“I’d heard there was some Asian cop that would come around Hendrix’s wagon. Had some goatee. Is that the guy that gave Hendrix his parking pass?” Mallen said.

“How the fuck should I know? Enough talk. On your knees, back to me. I’m going to put this cap right in the back of your head.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted me to see it coming. My bad,” Mallen replied, every muscle fiber tightening. He saw Anna’s face then. Right there in his mind’s eye. “You should at least let me see it coming, man. Even Bogie would’ve done that.”

“Okay,” and before Lucas could pull the trigger, Mallen flicked the cigarette right at the man’s face. It didn’t hit but it made him flinch and then Mallen was on him and both men tumbled to the ground, the gun between them. A blast slit the air as the gun went off. Both men pushed the other away, like they didn’t want to know each other anymore now that the door to death had been passed through. Lucas checked himself for a wound. Smiled when he saw blood seeping from Mallen’s side. But the gun was right by Mallen’s hand, and he’d scooped it up before the knowledge of being shot even registered. Then the pain started and he glanced down. The bullet hole was close to the outside near and just above the hip. Not much more than a deep graze. God did indeed look out for lost children and recovering junkies.

“Okay,” Mallen hissed, “Now we’re going to play a different game.”

“What … what game, man?” Lucas asked in a worried whisper.

Mallen pulled himself over to the couch. The gun never wavered from Lucas’s face. He wondered how long until Gwen showed up, or maybe some uniforms. “This game is called “You Tell Me What the Fuck Ever I Want to Know.’ If you play well, you get to live with both nuts in your sack, both legs intact.” Took a deep breath. “You ever play that before?”

When he got no response from Lucas, he continued. “It’s played this way: if you fucking don’t answer the way I think you should, you lose something. Or, well … I kill you outright. The world won’t mind one less Lucas, right?”

Again, Lucas just stared at him. Sometimes at the gun. There were no sirens. Mallen grabbed up the sweat socks that he’d stuffed into his running shoes only a few days ago. Pressed them to his side. He needed to get the book away somewhere, but he also now needed for Gwen, or any friendly, to show up. It wasn’t a bad wound, but it was enough that he was beginning to feel light-headed from all the adrenaline that had earlier pumped into his system and was now quickly leaving.

“So let’s get started,” he said to Lucas. “First question. You saw the Asian cop, yeah?”

Lucas nodded his head. “Saw him once. Knocked on the back door of the wagon.”

“Spend much time talking? He hand anything off to Hendrix?”

“No. Nothing. They only spoke for a few minutes.” Lucas shifted a little. “It was the other detective that Hendrix spoke more to. The woman.”

And the world just blasted some cold air down the back of his neck. Hell, there were more than a few women detectives on the force. He knew that. “Yeah? What did she look like?”

“I only saw her once,” Lucas replied quickly. Like he was happy he was getting through to Mallen. Like he thought Mallen would soften with the more information he got. “Red headed. Nice suit. Fine bitch.”

“How long did they talk?”

“Oh man, it was like fifteen minutes. She stood outside, acted like she was writing a ticket, but it was fucking stupid. Only made it more obvious. To me, anyway.”

“Then what happened?” He was losing his grip on consciousness. He’d either phase out for a very important couple seconds, or be completely out soon, and this sack of shit would take the gun and shoot him.

“Well … ” Lucas replied slowly, like he could read Mallen’s mind. “I don’t … don’t remember. Give me a moment.” And then he leapt at Mallen, one hand going for the bullet wound, the other for the gun. Mallen’s insides exploded at Lucas’s fist slammed him in the hip. He was able to keep the gun away from the man, but then they were struggling on the ground, locked together, and this time Mallen knew he would never live through a second round. The world outside of his head was silent. There was only the sound of his breathing. Everything was happening like it was all going down underwater. Both men had their hands on the gun as they rolled back and forth on the floor, knocking over the coffee table, pushing away the couch and chair. Mallen knew there was only one chance left. He released his left hand suddenly and smashed down on Lucas’s nose. Lucas flinched from the hit and Mallen knew he had him. Lucas’s grip relaxed for just a second, and also just a fraction of pressure. Mallen got a better hold of the weapon and brought it smashing down but Lucas grabbed for it and it went off again and this time it was Mallen who looked at Lucas and it was Lucas who looked at a bullet hole in his body. High, and in the left shoulder, centered toward his heart.

“You … ” Lucas said as he lost consciousness.

Mallen lay back, the world fading. Desperately grabbed at some deep breaths. Closed and opened his eyes. There was a frantic knock on his door. It was faint, but he could still tell it was important. Mallen thought it was Gwen, but then he heard Mr. Gregor’s hurried voice, “Mallen! Mallen! You alive? Answer me or I’m storming in, son!”

“I’m here,” Mallen replied. “Come ahead, sir.”

The door banged opened and Mr. Gregor stood there. Scanned the room then walked in, closing the door behind him. Came over to Mallen, who only then put the gun on the coffee table and lay back. He felt weak, and cold. Mr. Gregor said to him, “Son, you live one fuck of a life.”

A faint smile. “And ain’t that a stone cold fact, sir.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Check him. Is he alive?”

Gregor knelt down. Checked for a pulse. Nodded. “Barely, son.”

“Call an ambulance, but first take this.” Mallen handed Mr. Gregor the codebook and flash drive he got at Karachi’s. “You don’t have this and never did,” he said.

“Got it,” the old man said as he shoved both into his back pocket. “We got to get you to hospital, too, Mallen.”

All Mallen could do was nod. Gregor went to the phone and was about to dial when Gwen appeared in the doorway. She took one look at the scene and ripped out her phone, saying, “Anyone call an ambulance?”

“Just about to,” Gregor replied.

Gwen nodded. Called it in. Shook her head at Mallen, “You’re such trouble.”

Mallen looked at her for a moment. At her red hair. She was very good-looking.

Gwen saw the gun on the table. Looked from Mallen to Lucas. “What the fuck happened?” It was then that she looked over at Mr. Gregor. “Who are you?”

“He looks after the dock. Name is Gregor.” Mallen said, “He pretty much saved my life by knocking when he did.” He then indicated Lucas, “That is the guy who killed Blackmore, the pawnbroker, and probably was into some other shit that’s gone down recently.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow as she came over and helped him over onto the couch, “What kind of shit, Mallen?”

Mallen tried to shrug. “Just check. I’m sure something will come up with that gun.”

Gwen was about to say something when the sound of sirens rent the air. Mr. Gregor moved to the door. “I’ll let them know all the action is in here,” he said as he left. Mallen had a feeling the man would disappear for a moment to stash the book and flash drive, then come back. Gwen watched Mr. Gregor go, her gaze lingering there for a moment before she turned back to Mallen saying, “You have some good friends.”

He tried to smile. Almost made it. “The best.”