Chapter Two

Present Day, Los Angeles

Jarvis sat loosely in the driver’s seat, the radio filling the car with low sounds of a KCRW late-night talk show. The topic was troop withdrawals from one of the countries where America was at war. He fiddled with the controls on the steering wheel and took it down to a murmur. Nothing was open at 2:15 a.m. so the flashlight beam playing back and forth in the alley ahead and to his left screamed for attention. The main street where he’d parked more than seven hours ago was deserted. The strip mall abutting the alley contained a Quizno’s, a check cashing place, a liquor store masquerading as a convenience market, and a small pharmacy. It was the last that held Jarvis’ attention.

 

The door of the BMW was virtually silent as it opened and Jarvis slid out. No oncoming traffic threatened and he stepped quickly and quietly to the curb. The eighteen-inch section of pine 2-by-four was almost invisible as he held it to his side. He reached the alley just as the beam from the flashlight widened, signaling its owner was nearing the mouth and about to reach the sidewalk. Jarvis paused for a moment and a dark shadow emerged from the alley and turned to its right, away from Jarvis and toward the banged up mini Toyota truck a hundred feet up the street. Jarvis resumed his walk, just a few steps behind the figure, unnoticed. Five steps and Jarvis was immediately behind. Hooded sweatshirt, baggy pants, and a large green Hefty bag slung over the figure’s shoulder. Without breaking stride, Jarvis swung the makeshift club up with a turn of his hips. The force caught the burglar precisely as aimed, almost dislocating his shoulder and forcing the bag to drop. A grunt flew from the man’s mouth and before his body could hit the brick wall, Jarvis hit him again – not as hard, just a stunning jolt, on the side of the head. The man bounced off the wall and was on the ground, too confused to know whether to grab his shoulder or his ear where a lump was already forming.

 

Jarvis made the decision for him, grabbing his collar and dragging the man backwards in the direction they’d both just come. Still no one in sight. The captive moaned and then started to complain as the discomfort of being slid along a cement sidewalk pierced his shock and surprise.

 

“Who the…what the hell are you doin’, man? Get the hell offa me!”

 

He struggled as if getting away from Jarvis were an option. Jarvis shifted his grip and gave him a tap on the other ear with the club and the complaining was replaced by a yelp of pain.

 

They reached the car and Jarvis opened the back door, half picking up the man and shoving him in.

 

“Don’t bleed on the seat.” He shut the door and used the remote entry key to lock the doors. Without looking back, he returned to the spot where the trash bag had fallen. Its contents had started to spill out. He spun the bag with one hand while holding it in the air with the other, then tossed it over his shoulder like a knapsack and headed back to the car. Unlocking with a press of the key, he opened the front passenger door and tossed the bag on the seat. The protestations from the guy in the back were starting to become more coherent and easily drowned out the radio. Jarvis closed the passenger door and opened the back door. The guy scrambled further back into the seat, but still mouthed off.

 

“I’m gonna kill you, man, you know who you’re messin’ with?” The threat was softened by the guy’s back pressing up against the opposite door as if that would spring it open.

 

Jarvis pulled a plastic handcuff from his back pocket and dragged the man closer to him by the ankle.

 

“Yeah, I know who I’m messing with.” He jerked the guy’s hands together and looped one end of the plastic through the locking mechanism on the other. Cheap, short-term, effective.

 

“Goddammit, this is kidnapping you prick! You better…” He stopped when Jarvis showed him the piece of 2-by-4.

 

In a pocket in the back seat, a roll of duct tape created a circular impression. Jarvis pulled it out and the man’s eyes grew wide. He pulled off an eight-inch strip and tore a few millimeters with his teeth and ripped the rest. Jarvis grabbed the guy by the hair and pulled him close, pressing the duct tape over his mouth and sliding his hand back and forth to make sure there was a tight seal. Any objections were muffled.

 

The guy’s eyes widened further, comically, as he looked down and noticed the plastic on the floor and dark towel on the seat. Jarvis followed his look and shook his head.

 

“Nope, you’re doing all the bleeding you’re going to do. That’s just to keep it clean.” He waited. “Unless you keep squirming.” The man settled down.

 

Jarvis shut the door and climbed in the driver’s seat. With the press of a button, the engine started. He looked both ways before pulling into the empty street and didn’t turn around as he spoke to the space in front of him.

 

“Let’s go have a chat with your father.”