Mallon’s reaction was a simple reflex, a lunge to the left to avoid her. She managed to land a single, hard blow that missed his throat but stung his chest near the shoulder. Her other hand was already at his jacket pocket, groping for the gun. Mallon swatted her arm down and held her wrist. He used it to spin her around, then pushed to get her to the floor face downward. He straddled her as she struggled, then clamped his left hand around the back of her neck to hold her there.
He leaned to the right to grasp the roll of packing tape he had left on the floor after he’d covered the broken window, and she used that moment to twist and push down with her legs to try to roll him off. He managed to snatch the tape, then flop his weight onto her back to keep her down.
In spite of his size and weight, she never stopped struggling to overcome him, and from the first few seconds he had been aware that she was better at this than she should be. She used every chance to keep him from gaining control. Every time he tried to shift his position, she would feel the direction of his motion and push off to try to accelerate it and free herself. They fought in silence in the near darkness, their breaths now coming in heavy, hard gasps.
At last, she had worn herself out trying to lift him. He was able to clamp both her wrists behind her, and wrapped five turns of the tape around them to hold them.
“What?” she gasped. “Why… what do you… want?”
He leaned close, so his lips were right behind her ear. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I want you to tell me the truth.”
CHAPTER 30
Mallon had used parts of three rolls of packing tape to bind Diane’s wrists and ankles, then to connect the ankles and wrists.
He knelt beside her on the empty living room floor, and she recoiled from him. He said, “Diane, I’m not going to harm you. But you’ve got to tell me why they’re trying to kill me.” He stared into her eyes, and he could tell she had been listening to him and studying him. Her eyes were a bit calmer.
She took two or three deep breaths. “You didn’t have to do this to me. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just panicked because you took away my phone. I thought it was so I couldn’t call for help, that you were planning to hurt me.”
“And your gun,” he said. “I found that too.”
Her brows tilted in hurt. “Don’t you think that’s the best evidence you have that I only wanted to help? I never did anything with it.”
“Why did you come to meet me with a gun?”
“Because we’re in danger. I own it because I’m a female attorney who lives alone. I bought it when I was just starting out in general practice in Los Angeles, and lived in a neighborhood that seemed scary to a girl from a small town. That was a long time ago, so I hardly ever thought about the gun until now. After those men followed me home from work this week, I threw a few things into a suitcase, put the gun into my bag, and took off. At the time, I was very glad I owned it.” She sighed, and looked as though she might cry. “Now I’m sorry.”
Mallon said, “Diane, if you’ll tell me the truth, I’ll let you go. Why are you involved with these people?”
“Involved?” Her eyes looked scared again. “I’m not involved. I was only trying to help you, and now they’re after both of us.”
“They’re not after both of us. They’re after me, and you’re helping them. Why are they so interested in killing me? What is it you think Lydia and I found out? Who are these people?”
She looked at him as though he were speaking a language she did not understand. “I don’t know any more than you do. Robert, you know me. I’m an honest person. I don’t consort with any criminals. I’ve never even represented any. I went into a general civil firm right out of law school and, when I had some experience, moved to Santa Barbara to open an office with a specialty I liked. You’re one of my best clients. I have no reason to harm you.”
Mallon said quietly, “Stop it. I’m giving you a chance to tell me the truth. Don’t you understand what that’s worth?”
“I am telling you the truth.” She stared at him for a few moments, motionless, and then the tears came. “I am. I am,” she said softly, and turned her face to the floor.
There was no doubt that she was lying. He stood up. The beach house was like the others in the row: it faced the sea. It had no lower-level windows on the street side, but presented to the world a plain front and a plain, closed garage door. Mallon had little reason to be afraid to leave a light on, but he decided to be careful. He switched the light off and took a step.
“Good-bye, Diane.” He walked toward the front door.
“Wait!”
He stopped.
“Please!” she begged. “You’re going to leave me like this? The house is closed up, and so are all the others along here. There’s nobody to find me. I’ll die.”
“Most likely,” he said. “I guess if I die, you will too.” He opened the door to step out.
“Wait!” she yelled. “I’ll tell you.”
He closed the door, turned on the light, walked back, and sat beside her again. “I’ll listen to it. All I ask is that it be true.”
“It will be,” she said. “If you go without knowing more than you do, they’ll kill you.”
“Why?” he said. “Why? I’ve asked you that over and over.”
Her face assumed a hard, empty look. “No reason.” She gazed into his eyes, and her expression became a grim amusement. “Does that surprise you?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “It’s true. The people involved in this-all the ones you’ve seen, anyway-were doing it because it gives them a thrill.” She watched him for a reaction. “It’s the sport of kings, the real one, you know. If you happen to be the sort of wealthy person who has gone to all the famous cities and to all the remote resorts that aren’t famous because just knowing the name of them is enough to make you cool, and you’ve worked your way through all of the other big-ticket extreme sports, then this is the option.”
“The big-ticket extreme sports?”
“You know. Having a helicopter drop you on some unreachable mountain nobody has skied before, buying a big sailboat to take across an ocean, setting speed records with racing cars. I guess people like that used to go shoot animals in Africa, but that’s lost its aura. Those two that came for you tonight-Markham and Coleman-that’s what they were in it for: fun.”
“How in the world did you ever get involved with people like that?”
“Through my practice. I’m a servant of rich people: all kinds of rich people. If you manage money, you can’t have too many requirements other than that the money belong to them. This business is too competitive for that.”
“You got into this mess for thrills?”
She shook her head and closed her eyes. Tears seeped from the corners. Then she opened them again. “Not everybody gets a thrill. I got into it because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Just before I came to Santa Barbara, when I was still in civil litigation in L.A., I defended a client named Carl Hayward. He wasn’t a very nice man, and I didn’t much like him, but that isn’t supposed to enter into legal representation. He was being sued. He had bought a restaurant about three years before. As I understood it, what happened was this: he hired an old male chef and one male kitchen helper, but everybody else who worked for him was a young girl. It was a crummy neighborhood, but it was a well-known old restaurant that was a favorite spot for people to go after plays or concerts: lobsters, big steaks, lots of liquor. It stayed open twenty-four hours a day, so he needed three shifts, but most of the business was between ten at night and six in the morning. Because it was that kind of place, he made the customers pay premium prices. Every night at about three A.M. he would come in and count the money. That was the time when things would begin to slow down. He put the cash in a bag, made out a deposit slip, and sent out one of the young girls who was getting off her shift to take it to the bank to drop in the night-deposit slot on the way home. One night, there was somebody waiting. The girl was a sixteen-year-old, who wasn’t supposed to be working at that hour or in a place that served liquor. She got killed.”