eighteen

Mallen was only half a block away from his car, turning the corner onto Cesar Chavez, when he noticed a dark BMW parked up the street. There was nothing outstanding about it. Looked just like any other dark-colored, late-model BMW. Thousands of them in the city. Couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw someone behind the wheel. Noticed the red glow of a cigarette cherry. Maybe it was just one more facet of the old sixth sense kicking in after years of being doped into slumber. Maybe it was his mounting paranoia at what Ali had laid on him. Whatever it was, all it took was a look at the car, and he just knew: that car was there because he was there.

He went on past the Land Cruiser. No way he’d be able to outrun them in that. No, he’d have a better chance on foot. As he passed, he cemented the vehicle in his mind: a BMW e5 sedan, smoked windows, trick rims included. Just to make sure, he crossed the street after he passed the car and headed around the corner. He wasn’t sure but he thought he heard an engine start up. There was a liquor store up ahead, on the opposite side of the street. He jogged across to it. They’d have to make a U-turn then, or park somewhere close by. They might even circle back to the truck and lay in wait. And how to handle that possibility? He tried to come up with a better plan as he stood there and bought a pack of Marlboro Lights and a pint of Seagram’s. Paid and then checked out the magazines by the door. Glanced up. Yeah, they’d parked on this side of the street, one building to his left. He exited the store and walked in the direction of the car. Shoved his left hand into his empty pocket and now really cursed himself for not being armed. Wondered if they had orders just to follow him, or to grab him up, or just to put a kink in his head to make him paranoid. If it was that then it was working. In fucking spades.

He passed the car and turned at the next corner. Then went right at the next one, never looking for the car. Sure enough, the BMW always seemed to appear on the street somewhere. Sometimes behind him. Sometimes going the opposite direction. He’d see it sitting at a red light, or maybe turning onto a side street right ahead of him. Whatever he did, the car was always there. Whoever was driving was good, and that guy must be feeling pretty fucking assured in their position if they were going to be so obvious. That thought made him wonder how many guys were actually in that car. At least two: one to drive, one to be the eyes. And here he was, without a weapon. Shit, he thought, God is just not looking out for recovering junkies today. Quickly pulled out his cell and dialed Gato.

“Bro,” Gato said, “glad to hear your voice. How’d—”

“Later, man. Got a problem right now. Get someone to Ali’s warehouse. I don’t have a number for her. Tell her I think she may have been seen talking with me. Could be a lot of trouble comin’ her way.”

“Okay. Where are you?”

“I’m about to try and lose a black BMW that’s taken an interest in me. Call you back.”

“Be safe, bro. I’ll go to Ali’s myself.”

“Thanks. Tell her sorry for me, okay?” There was the click as Gato ended the call.

Ahead was a 99-cent store. Right there. He moved toward it just as he heard the growl of a high-performance engine. Looked over his shoulder to see the BMW sweeping to the curb. Like they’d fuckin’ read his mind or had maybe just tired of the games.

He bolted inside the store, ignoring the looks of the young Asian man behind the counter. Mallen knew from back in his working days that the buildings around here all butted onto alleys. And that’s what he needed right about now: a back door. Ran through the store, pushing aside the curtain that hid from the rest of the world that the owner and his family were also illegally living there. A baby and young wife were there on the bed, but he just ran through, ignoring the woman’s protests. Could hear yelling coming from the front of the place. Found the rear door. So many locks. Sweat broke out on his brow with every passing second as he undid them all, but then the door was open and he was bursting through and into the back alley.

No time. Ran to a nearby dumpster. Dove in, pulling the top down on him. The odors worked together to make him wretch, but he covered his nose with his sleeve and tried to breathe through his mouth. It was Hell. A dark, putrid Hell. Could hear the store door bang open. Footsteps as they paced the alley. After a moment he heard them head away toward the street. And that was the hardest time, the waiting. The not knowing where his enemies were. But then they came back, this time slower. Careful now. Like they’d guessed they’d been outmaneuvered. He heard the bang of a couple other dumpster lids going up. It felt like a clock ticking: either he was gonna get caught outright or puke loud at having to lay on a mound of rotting Indian food remains.

He heard an angry voice. The store owner. Of course he’d be pissed at people running through his store. One of the honest ones, the type who gets riotously indignant at crime if it slams into their world. They pay taxes, vote, have rights. Even in the face of a gun, they’ll argue for those rights. Well, some of ’em will. The brave or dumb ones, anyway.

The voices went away then. Faded into the smells and odors that were about to overwhelm him. Fuck Indian food, man. If he ever smelled tandoori chicken again, it would be too soon. After he heard the alley go quiet, he counted slowly to sixty, then crawled out of the dumpster. Wiped off or dusted off what he could. And man, he didn’t even own another coat. He decided to wait until dark to go back for the truck. He didn’t think they’d gamble and sit on it the rest of the day. If they were waiting for him when he got there, well, that was just something he’d have to deal with on the fly. Otherwise, it was high fucking time to go do some laundry.

_____

Mallen approached the corner onto the block where the truck was parked. He’d spent his time waiting for the sun to go down by hanging out in a Laundromat, drinking the pint of Seagram’s as he washed and dried his coat, shirt, underwear, and socks. Just had to wear the pants as is. He would change when he got home, but at least he now smelled more of dryer sheets than curry.

He stopped just before turning onto the street and peered around the corner of the old, large factory Ali headquartered in. Scanned up and down the street for a long while. Tried to be as thorough as possible. No black BMWs were in sight. In fact, the truck was the only vehicle on the block. A part of him was surprised it was still there. Maybe you’re lookin’ out for recovering junkies after all, God. He pulled out his phone and called Gato as he quickly went to the truck and leapt inside.

“Bro,” Gato said, relief in his voice, “glad you’re still among the living. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m still in the city but about to be leaving for home. How mad was Ali?”

A chuckle. “Oh, vato … like the sun exploding. Fuckin’ ouch, bro.”

That would be another thing he’d want to clear up. Didn’t want her pissed at him again. Not at all. “I learned something interesting in my conversation with her,” Mallen said. “Ali mentioned that she’d heard that Teddy’d been into video and film. She was trying to say something without saying it, man. She was that scared.”

“Video and film?” Gato replied. “Could be, vato. Could definitely be. I know a couple of the women in his stable have done movies. They’re not bad, either.”

“Real Academy Award stuff, I bet.”

“Oh man, for sure!” More laughter. “This one girl? She took this one guy’s—”

“Another time, G. I gotta get home. Dig into what she said, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow. Oh, hey! How’s your madre, man? She handling the news of Lupe leaving town okay?”

The line went quiet for a moment, then Gato said, “She’s … well, vato … I don’t know. I’m not sure she got it. You know, what it might mean for her and me if Lupe never comes back.”

“G, we’ll make sure your madre is taken care of, any way we can, okay? I promise you that, man.”

“Thanks, Mallen. I appreciate that, desde el corazón, mi amigo. Stay safe, bro.”

Gato ended the call. Mallen turned the key in the ignition and drove quickly away. He wanted to be home in Sausalito as soon as humanly possible. Even being in the truck, he was feeling very exposed. Like his enemies could look down from some satellite and see right into his vehicle.

He drove up Van Ness and headed for the Golden Gate. He was now swimming in much deeper waters than he’d at first imagined. What sort of videos or films could Teddy Mac have made, or run off with, that would bring down so much fucking heat? The answering list quickly became longer than John Holmes’s legendary member, so he gave it up. He needed more information. Badly. And he vowed never to go anywhere from now on without being armed. Damn the consequences.

_____

It started to rain as he pulled into the dock parking lot. He made it inside his house before it really let loose. Once inside, he went and retrieved his pistol and, even though he knew it was probably a bit on the paranoid side, he went through his entire place, looking for any hidden enemies. Found no one, and no sign of anything being tampered with. He changed clothes, and then went to the kitchen to make himself a double scotch. Neat.

_____

It turned out to be a night straight out of a disaster flick. The rain got more and more heavy, feeling like the Heavens themselves had opened up. Just like the rain the day that Oberon had come to tell him about Eric’s murder. He stood at the sliding glass door of the office, watching the sheet of water pelt the back upper deck. Had it only been a couple months since he and Oberon had sat in those very deck chairs, reveling in the end of the case that had helped bring him back to the living? Back from the pit of the needle and the spoon? Took a sip of the scotch. He couldn’t hide the fact that at that moment, he really just wanted to shoot and make it all go away. Teddy Mac. Carpy. Liz and Tracy Goldman. Unknown enemies coming after him. Just shoot the skag into his vein and call it a night. Maybe call it a year. Yeah, that would be very fuckin’ okay right about now.

But then he looked over his shoulder to the worktable where the soda kite he was making (and not finishing) for Anna rested. He took a long pull of his drink, following that up with a long breath. After a moment of resting his forehead on the cold glass of the sliding door, The Need slowly receded. And he realized then he’d won another round. That was something to celebrate, no doubt. Went over to the kite and ran his index finger over a part of the frame. It could be done very soon, if life would quit fucking intruding.

And that was when his phone rang. Yup, he thought, straight out of a disaster flick.

However, it was Chris.

“Hey,” he said, “anything wrong?”

Heard her soft laughter. “That’s still the first damn thing out of your mouth whenever I call, just like back in the day.”

“Well,” he replied with a soft laugh, “there usually was something wrong, remember? With the plumbing. Or the wiring. Or the credit card. What do you want from me, right? I’m a creature of habit.”

“Yes, yes you are,” came the reply. Then the line went silent. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, Mark.”

“It’s all good, Chris. We can’t pretend it never happened, right? I have to accept my past. Learn from it. That’s all I can do.”

“Very true.” A pause, then she said, “I called because I heard from Liz. She’s upset.”

“Yeah? She say why she was upset? If it’s because I haven’t called, it’s only because I haven’t had any real success.” He didn’t think telling her about what he found at Jinky’s apartment would do Tracy’s mother any good. He would tell her, and the cops, but not just yet. There were still too many questions. Questions that he wanted the damn answers to. “I’m working on it, though,” he continued. “But then … well, something else intruded. Something I’m doing for a friend who helped me out once.”

“That sounds like the old Mark.”

“Guess it does, at that. I am working on helping Liz, though. Tell her that. She say anything to you about what upset her?”

“No. But you know, I got the feeling that maybe her husband had told her to call or something. Almost as if it were that that made her so upset. I’m not sure … just the way she put some things. Bottom line, Mark: she wants you to drop it.”

He chewed on that for a moment. Could be the new mayor didn’t want to risk a story that involved a recovering junkie ex-cop working for his family under the table. “What do you want me to do, Chris? You think I should drop it?”

“Very funny. Like you would, right?”

“Right. Seems to be my night for stand-up. Look, just tell her you talked to me, and leave it at that. Tell her I was … ambiguous as to what I would do, okay?”

“I won’t have to tell her. You’ll have that opportunity yourself. She wants to meet with you again, here at the house. Tomorrow morning at eight, if you can make it.”

“I can make it. I’ll be there.” It was strange, though. Why have him come all the way to Chris’s house just to fire him? She could do that over the phone. Or hell, just have Chris tell him. Why the need for the meet? He couldn’t come up with any answers.

Chris was silent for a moment, and then said, “You get the results back?”

Shit. He’d totally forgotten about the blood test. “No. I need to call them. I mean, that’s a good sign, right? If it were bad, they’d be calling me, sending me pamphlets in the mail, all that shit.”

“You need to find out for sure, Mark. You can’t base the rest of your life on the absence of a positive. You have to call and find out for sure. Okay?” Then after a moment, in a quieter voice, she added, “I want to know too. For Anna’s sake.”

And that hit home. How could it not? “I’ll call first thing in the morning. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

There was real warmth in her voice when she said that. Maybe it was the phone connection, sure, but then again …? Fuck it, he’d take it and run with it. Drained his drink before continuing. “Tell Liz I’ll be there.”

“I’ll have breakfast waiting for you.”

“You sure? I can stop on the way.”

“Oh shut the hell up and prepare for a hearty meal, sailor,” she said and hung up.

He stood there for a moment longer, staring out at the bay. He knew he’d have to keep it real, knowing that Chris was putting a lot of chips on the table, opening herself up to him again, hoping that he’d stay clean.

He would prove to her that she’d made the right decision. Even if it took his last breath.