Not Quite a White Knight Vol. 05C

There was the greater question of whether females from the Tribe or the Colony, once they came to LA, could even find a husband if they were virgins. Pre-marital sex was becoming the norm in LA's dating scene where BJs on the third date - or earlier - were almost a requirement. Whether for good or bad, that was the direction society was headed.

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Tuesday morning Cynthia, Pammie, Tonto, Tony, Oriana and Brisk departed LA for Peru. Due to a weather change the private jet changed plans slightly, it refueled in Mexico City and Panama as planned, then it went to land in Quito, instead of going on to Peru as scheduled.

The Patron's best Cessna met them there for the flight to the Colony. The cost for the Cessna was about the same either way, and since the jet was in Quito a day early and had saved a leg of the flight the Patron and the company were both pleased to split the cost savings.

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Chapter 22. Doria's Second Call

Tuesday September 16, 2008

Driving From The Office

I did not plan to talk to Doria again, after that 7702 call last week I pulled the battery of the phone and ignored it. But Tuesday night after I left the office I was making some other calls using the same routine. I realized that the time was close when Doria might try to call me. So just for curiosity sake I kept the phone "live" for another few minutes after 7. Right on time the phone rang.

It was Doria, using the 7702 number. This time she sounded really panicked, nothing like the last time we talked. She was showing a little range in her acting.

"I thought we exhausted the topic in our last conversation," I said casually when I answered. "This has got to be risky for both of us."

She agreed with me, but she wanted to keep me on the line. "You are right of course, but I don't have anyone I can turn to. I am in danger and I need help. I know you are very clever, extremely clever, so I had to try. I am desperate."

I could not believe that she was trying the "woman in distress" ploy on top of her "women done wrong" thing with Darnel's pictures of her privates in living color. "I don't really see where that is my concern." I knew that sounded heartless, but that was me. I was being sincere.

"Look, in a few days my so-called dad is going to return from Hong Kong after closing a big deal to import and market heroin. We never imported directly before and we never did that product, and we never opened the door of LA to this grade of organized thugs. If that happens it will make LA a lot more dangerous for everybody.

I tried to sound cheerful. "Gee, if only there were people you could call with this type of problem, good guys with guns. Maybe folks supported by taxes, I know I pay enough."

"You know they won't do anything, they can't. But I have a plan to kill him when he returns, before he can make it happen. He has been acting funny lately, experimenting with drugs to lower inhibition and looking at me the way men do when... when they are thinking of bad things. Sex things. He has the timing and manpower set up so he will do those things to me if I don't kill him. Then I will be the only suspect for the cops, so I get fucked over twice. What I need desperately is a way to get the jump on him and an alibi when the cops call, forcing an alternative theory of the crime. Darnel's DNA would help with the latter. Getting the jump... for that I need help."

It almost sounded tempting, the DNA ploy was clever. "I still don't really see my motivation to put you at the head of the Sharks."

"I had a thought about that. I really don't want to be a Sunset Shark for all my short life. What I really want is out, a normal life, the simple life."

I thought, "the Simple Life?" That was the Paris Hilton + Nicole Richie show where two wealthy twenty-somethings acted like brainless tweenagers as the moved through the lives of ordinary folks, screwing up in spectacular fashion, creating an legitimate "eat the rich" culture. Like Hilton's little sex movie, it was brilliant acting. I heard it lasted a few seasons, you cannot underestimate the viewing taste of the American public.

Her boohoo story continued. "Since I can't get out, the next best thing is to kill the Sharks as an entity. With my dad out of the picture... well, did you know that some sharks are cannibals in the womb? Their version of natural selection. Some sharks lay eggs, but a few get spermed and do live birth, and some of those, like the nurse shark and sand tiger, are aggressive enough before birth to eat their siblings in the womb. The female shark gets fertilized by several males" (sort of like Doria I thought), "then competition between different bloodlines starts early. Evolution is natural, these sharks just take a bite out of a sibling to start extra early."

I supposed that made sense for an eating machine that never slept and had to move to breathe.

"Thanks for the news flash from the nature channel?" I had seen that episode, they have film shots in the womb before birth. It was fascinating and it was not even science fiction.

"I didn't finish. The Sunset Sharks are a lot like that. With my dad gone after the damage that Darnel did, the Sharks will tear each other apart unless some new bastard gets them to line up. That bastard-in-waiting is named Amos Muller, along with his kid Jimmy. I already have Muller's DNA to implicate him. The problem is that if he has an alibi the cops will come back to me. With the Mullers in charge the Sharks will be more viscous and efficient. I want to end the natural cycle of more vicious leaders through killing for succession. Like sharks. My plan is to kill the Sharks. Do you see the parallel I am drawing?"

"It sounds good... but I have another bit of history in mind. Cleopatra also got ahead by engineering the death of her older sisters on her way to the top. You want me to work with you, exposing myself on your schedule, while trusting you based solely on the fact that I have seen video of your admittedly attractive pussy and ass, open and filled with cock. I admit, you are super-hot in a DP, almost professional grade. But it is not enough."

I wondered if she would take the comment as praise or an insult. Heck, it wasn't even clear to me.

She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. She sounded frantic. "Listen, my Dad has me under house arrest - I can't leave. When he returns he is going to rape me real bad when it counts, that is how he is looking at me. He thought he was my daddy, but yesterday I found an envelope from a DNA firm in the trash - he meant to shred it but missed a corner. Not long ago my toothbrush went missing. Putting those two together I think he knows that he is not my biological father, and his wife cheated on him with a man he hates. Can you understand that now?"

She had a future as a scream-writer (sic). "Some folks would call the cops."

"He has planned for that, have you seen where I live? Cops won't survive."

Okay, she was right about that, the place was a fortress, between a mountain and the sea. "Outside of space lasers... I am not the type of person to call regular cops into an ambush... my saying that is evidence that I won't lead the Sharks. Not to mention they won't get him in terms of timing. But you are Knife, the evidence on my former patio says you are a man who wields a fucking space laser. Not that I understand, but I have seen the evidence. I would think you could do this easy..."

Her mention of "space lasers" confirmed that she and her dad knew something of who I was and some of what I did to them on our last encounter. She realized, to late, that using those words was a mistake.

I played along, "Space lasers and similar gizmos are expensive..."

She snapped back with a female-racial thing, "... and I am just a black girl who lets trash like Darnel and his friends use me like a willing piece of tissue paper, swallowing what their filthy cocks feed me. Listen, if I looked like I was willing, and I admit that it might, it was because I had to... I was acting to avoid worse things."

She made a good point, the idea that any attractive woman would willingly allow Darnel into their bodies... well, who could argue with that? The guy was repulsive in every way. So for fun I opened a door for her. "Okay, let's take a step back. What, exactly are you asking of your friendly neighborhood Knife?"

She was too quick with an answer that would appeal to a leader, meaning she was back on script. "Nobody else knows daddy is bringing in foreign muscle. After Darnel went rouge he doesn't trust any Sharks outside of their lanes. So he is in China. He is flying a private jet from Hong Kong to British Columbia, then on to Van Nuys in a few days. Exact flight times depend on the weather. But he plans to get home before dawn. He has a date he wants to keep with my pussy during prime time. That is when I need to make a move."

(I knew a flight plan required a scheduled landing at Van Nuys after 7 in the morning, and at that time of day her home was 2 hours away from the airport. That rules out the "before dawn" bit. It seemed strange that she didn't know that.)

"Why the side trip to BC? That seems like a waste of time and money."

"Because that is where he is renting the serious mercs he will need to show the Chinese, to show face. Look, he likes to clear customs up North because they are so deferential. After his business meeting with a guy for some ex-Foreign Legion guns-for-hire outfit he will have a sauna with his old banking buddy, share some whores, then take dinner at a triad place which provides under-the-table service to move weapons. His buddy is his laundry contact from his banking days. The business meeting will cover the goons who will dribble down over the next week with their guns. He likes a relaxed 12 to 20-hour layover there, then wheels up sometimes after midnight - so it is the next day. He likes to show he spent a day in Canada."

"I can see where a trip from Canada draws less scrutiny than a flight to LA from Hong Kong. Still, it seems like a lot of bother."

"He needs the business meeting, so it really does not add any cost. Now, the thing is, whenever he gets home from a trip the first thing, as soon as he walks in the front door, is a ritual drink of bourbon, really good stuff. It has to be served by me or his slut - he has 4 who rotate the duty - in a skimpy nightie that is wide open. Normally he plays with a slut for a time as he drinks, maybe in the open doorway, or on the stairs, or maybe he makes it to the bedroom. In this case, after the welcome home warmup his plan is to have his boys tie me down and then he will rape me repeatedly to repay my mother's infidelity. That is why I am under house arrest. My only chance to get a jump is the drink - that is how I will get him first.

Darnel keeps an Inland Taipan snake, a real nasty piece of Mother Nature, in his house, the place where he gets his mail. His brother - a disabled vet - milks the poison for him. I stole some of his supply so the snake poison will match. I already have Muller's DNA on the venom container.

Dad has this nasty intestinal ulcer so the venom will work fast. I have arranged to escape the house while he is airborne from Canada, but he will catch me in a day or two. As for Muller, I can text you his plans 24 hours in advance, but I can give you his typical day by text when I hang up so you can scout it out. He doesn't have to be bagged or anything, he just needs to be without an credible alibi. That is all I need from you."

I knew about Darnel's disabled half-brother, a decorated hero, in court we call that a character witness and it is a good thing to have around. I also knew his house had signs up, warning of the nasty snake. It kept the police and the riffraff out. Also some thieves. Some forks didn't read or didn't believe, LAPD had been there twice picked up the failed products of a critically distressed education system who were suddenly screaming for snake-bite care.

The anti-venom was in Australia, so Dumb and Dumber had a really bad time for the rest of their lives.

The plan sounded too neat, like it was contrived to get my help so she could catch me in the open. "That is a clever plan to come together so fast. But having an alibi does you no good if there is poison in the booze bottle."

"I have that covered. I will be a suspect either way, but I will have an solid alibi keeping me off the hook for the bottle-to-drink interval. I will get out of the house in the middle of the night. I just closed the deal, I am still dripping from the down payment... Well, I have done the guy before and he is better than most I have done. I stole the viper juice a month ago, and put it in a container that had DNA from Muller. Dad has been on edge since Darnel started freelancing. Around the first of the year Darnel met with some folks who flew in from Vietnam and started the ball rolling. Also, I found out when I was 14 that Jimmy Muller and I shared a biological link, it started with a blood test. They kept the results secret for obvious reasons but the nurse bent the rules when she saw me and Jimmy looking like we had a mutual interest. He does not know, and he would be quite nasty with me if he could."

Adding a second "girl in trouble" aspect had to be an ad-lib to sell the story, it did not mesh with the facts. But I would double-check.

I knew the Amos Muller from Smith's banking days had a son who was taking over his dad's legitimate business, but this whole thing had holes. She must have run out of her set story and be making it up. "Muller is what, 15 years older than you? Why is this coming to me now? Why not before? You might have shared." I caught her in a lie, but maybe I should not have announced it.

"Would you trust a guy named 'Knife' with such secrets? Like my patricide plot and my DNA? I am telling you now because I saw the DNA letter which got me desperate. That was motivation and tied it all together. I tried to call 15 times since then." She was back on script.

"With your great plan why do you need me?"

"Okay, I really want to be there when Darnel dies, which you can give me. If you do it in the dessert... maybe the sword-swallower thing, only doing it with his snake? Or maybe up his ass? Just an idea, he is a snake and that seems appropriate. You want the Sharks gone, which I can give you. The part we both need is that Muller not have the alibi, or the Sharks will come out stronger. The trade seems natural and it costs you almost nothing. We both get what we want, plus maybe a little goodwill for a future date."

The last bit, where she again put her curvy body on offer, and put us together to see Darnel made the whole story a trap, the whole thing was a plan to draw me out because they still did not know who I was. Well, maybe I could turn it around. "No promises, but I will consider my options. Don't call me, I'll call you." We made contact plans.

"Thank you," she said as she hung up.

The whole story sounded barely plausible, except for the parts I knew to be lies. It was designed so it could be true and seemed reasonable. It was also a short-time plan, so I would miss something checking it out. But honestly even given that, it still sounded more like a scheme to lure me out into the open, which I knew the Smiths wanted. The classic "lady or the tiger" choice, with her scenario she set the timing. The weakness was too many moving parts, the link-up put the power in my hands. Well, I just might run this foxy lady to ground. Do you know how traditional fox hunts end?

I needed some time to confirm some facts.

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First I called my car guys, they all knew Muller and his son, both were white. The Dad had rich hunting grounds leased from the Sharks. While the Sharks were known for drug sales, they sanctioned other crimes for a cut of the gross.

Muller was their big earner in the stolen car racket. He operated from 3 in the afternoon until he had his quota and the cops started looking. Early he hunted performance cars on the Sunset Strip and the various cross streets. When he spotted one he liked his #2 followed it and when the young stupid driver jumped out of the car to grab something something hot and unidentified with catsup at a cheeseburgler place, Muller snatched the car and was off in moments. He considered this recreation and, if there was a girl in the car, a way to meet folks. (He was very charming. His usual procedure was to offer a ride home, or a nice meal, or maybe just a drive. His hit rate was over 50%.)

Most of Muller's steady income came after sundown from about 2 dozen expensive eateries that used valet parking, the types of places where a meal took 3 or 4 hours. Muller had a garage in the hills where he took the cars. He used roads where he knew the cops were unlikely to patrol, and he had plenty of time because the meal took so long before anybody noticed the car was missing. Because of the mountains car locators like lo-jack didn't work right, he had a bunch of places where he could stop and quickly kill them before the car was reported stolen.

Son Jimmy Muller was a big strong guy, he had boxed Golden Gloves and ran his own shop. Together the pair were the type of charismatic guys who could unite the Sharks. It was well-known that Robert Smith hated Amos Muller based on their past business rivalry. Jimmy Muller joined the Sharks because he liked breathing while working for his dad. Technically he was a low-ranking worker bee because Smith carried the hatred of his father, but actually the son was semi-independent and his crew were not initiated as Sharks. If Smith was gone, the Mullers might move to take charge, especially now that Darnel, his allies and the Smith-loyalists shooters he killed were all out of the picture. But my bet was they might just keep his head down and let some rivals bury other rivals.

Amos Muller had a police record, one conviction resulting in a two year stint as a teen and two hung juries from assault charges that should have been solid convictions. In the two hung juries Muller smiled, played to the females and got off after some of jury voting "not guilty" despite the evidence. His smile always beat the evidence.

Amos Muller used a woman named Lila as his #2 driving his late model Caprice or Camaro as they cruised, he was very good at avoiding cameras. Lila was a blond with semi-exposed knockers (she taped her top right below the upper edge of her nipples) who always caught the eye while Muller sat low in the back seat where he kept his head down and spotted his prey. Lila was a good driver, a semi-pro.

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Chapter 23. C'est La Vie

Tuesday September 16, 2008

Late at the Safe House

After Doria's call pleading for help I continued on toward the my Fort where Joe Pope should be awake. I really felt it was time to share the "Why" with him. Soon, that would not be an option.

It was about 68 hours after Joe got his "Z" from the bullwhip. Most of that time had been spent asleep, with significant healing taking place. But now it was time for a little talk. While he was asleep Joe was redressed by my guys, he was wearing his casual clothes from his car which would make things easier when the time came. He was strapped in an Audi car seat with a 6-point harness that was mounted on a wheelchair chassis, so the blood would settle properly, it is not an exact science but was one of the first things they checked. Looking at his back, one could not tell if the whip wounds were three days old or twice that, being asleep really aided healing. It was good enough, Joe wasn't worth another night of my time.

I had obtained Joe's favorite brand of grappa and he felt a straw in his mouth to drink it. After a hesitant taste he drank, he had not connected the last drink with the sleepers I put in, the brain is not good with last minute things, he blamed it of something at dinner. I left him alone until he finished the equivalent of the first glass. He was bagged but as far as I could tell he enjoyed the drink.