He found the ignition on the left side quickly and started the engine. He backed out of the parking slot, then dropped the transmission into first gear and pulled out onto Mulholland. He drove with one hand on the stick shift at all times. Cassie could tell immediately he knew what he was doing.
"I take it you've driven one of these before but I'm going to give you the pitch anyway."
"That's fine."
She started listing the attributes of the car, starting with the new water-cooled engine and transmission and moving toward the suspension and brakes. She then moved inside the cockpit and started going over the amenities.
"You've got cruise control, traction control, onboard computer all standard. You've got CD, automatic windows and roof, dual air bags. And down here…"
She pointed down between her legs to the front of her seat. Lankford glanced down there but then put his eyes back on the road.
"… you have a passenger-side cutoff for the air bag – in case you are traveling with a small child. You have kids, Mr. Lankford?"
"Call me Terrill. And no, I don't have kids. You?"
Cassie didn't answer for a moment.
"Not really."
Lankford smiled.
"Not really? I thought that was a yes or no question for a woman."
Cassie ignored the statement.
"What do you think of the car… Terrill?"
"Very smooth. Very sweet."
"It is. So what do you do for a living?"
He glanced over at her. The wind was threatening to blow his hat off. He reached up and cranked it down over his forehead.
"I guess you could say I'm a troubleshooter," he said. "I'm a business consultant. Have my own company. I take care of things. This and that. I'm a magician, really. I make other people's problems disappear. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious. These cars are expensive. You must be very good at what you do."
"Oh, I am. I am. And cost is not a problem. I pay cash. Actually, Cassie, I expect to come into a large sum of money soon. Very soon, in fact."
Cassie looked over at him and felt a sudden shiver of fear. It was instinctive more than intuitive. Lankford pressed the pedal a little harder and the Porsche started moving through the winding curves a little faster. He looked over at her again.
"Cassie. What is that short for? Cassandra?"
"Cassidy."
"As in Butch? Your parents outlaw fans?"
"As in Neal. As in my father was always on the road. Or so I was told."
Lankford frowned and hit the pedal a little harder.
"That's really too bad. My father and me, we were close."
"I'm not complaining about it. You want to slow it down, Mr. Lankford? I'd like to get back to the showroom in one piece, if you don't mind."
Lankford didn't respond at first with his voice or his foot. The car powered through another turn, its tires protesting as they labored to hold the road.
"I said, do you – "
"Yes," Lankford finally said. "You do want to get back alive."
Something about the tone in which Lankford delivered the line revealed that he was not talking about the possibility of a car accident. Cassie looked over at him and shifted in her seat so that her body was pressed against her door.
"Excuse me?"
"I said you want to make sure you get back alive, Cassidy."
"Okay, pull the car over. I don't know what you think you're – "
Lankford slammed his foot down on the brake pedal and yanked the wheel hard to the left. The Porsche skidded and spun into a 180 -degree turn as it stopped. He looked over at her and smiled, then dropped in the gear and popped the clutch out. The car lurched forward and he started speeding through the curves, back in the direction they had come.
"What the hell are you doing?" Cassie yelled. "Stop the car! Stop the car right now!"
Cassie reached her right hand up and gripped the top of the windshield brace. Her mind was moving as fast as the car as she tried to come up with a plan, an escape.
"Actually, Lankford's not my name," the man next to her was saying. "I got it off a book I found on a shelf at Leo Renfro's last night. It's called Shooters and I started taking a look at it. I thought it was about a guy in my line of work but it wasn't. But, hell, when your boss came up to me in the showroom and asked my name, it's all I could come up with on short notice, you know. My name is Karch. Jack Karch. And I've come for the money, Cassie Black."
Through the terror building inside Cassie a thought pressed forward. Jack Karch, she thought. I know that name.
32
THE Porsche was moving wildly through the Mulholland slalom. Jack Karch was going too fast for his skill now and the car was intermittently crossing the yellow line in the middle of the two-lane road and then rebounding by going off the road onto the shoulder. Karch was red-lining the tach but didn't want to take his hand off the wheel to pop the car into a higher gear. The engine roared and whined as the car went through the turns. Cassie gripped the windshield brace with both hands but was being thrown violently back and forth in her seat. Karch screamed over the din of the engine.
"I WANT THE FUCKING MONEY!"
She didn't answer him. She was too busy watching the road uncoiling in front of them and thinking for sure they would go off the shoulder and down the embankment.
"MARTIN IS DEAD! PALTZ IS DEAD! LEO IS DEAD!"
She turned to him at the mention of Leo's name. She felt her heart being pierced. Karch throttled back. He kept the car moving but the engine noise and wind abated.
"They're all dead," he said. "But I don't really want or need to hurt you, Cassie Black."
He smiled and shook his head.
"In fact, I admire you. You do good work and I admire that. But I came for the money and you're going to give it to me. You give me the money and we'll call it square."
Cassie spoke slowly and sternly.
"I don't know what you are talking about, okay? Please pull the car over."
A look of sincere disappointment crossed Karch's face and he shook his head.
"I spent all night at Leo's. I tore that place apart. I found a lot of champagne and I found the briefcase I was looking for. But I didn't find what was supposed to be in the briefcase. And I didn't find you until along about dawn when I found you sitting there right in front of me. Leo's cell phone. I hit redial and I got the dealership. I went through the direct extension directory and, lo and behold, I hear the name Cassie Black. I switched over just to hear your voice. 'This is Cassie at Hollywood Porsche. I'm not at work for a few days but if you call back and ask for Ray Morales he can handle – ' Blah, blah, blah, don't fucking lie to me. I don't like it. I WANT THE MONEY!"
"I SAID PULL THE CAR OVER!"
"Sure."
Karch suddenly steered the car hard right and they turned violently onto a gravel road that cut through a stand of pine trees. Cassie thought it was a fire road or some kind of public utilities access road. Whatever it was, it was clear Karch was taking them away from other traffic, from potential witnesses.
When they were about two hundred yards down the road, Karch slammed on the brakes and the Porsche skidded to a halt on the gravel. Cassie was thrown forward, her body pressing against her shoulder harness, and then back. She had no sooner recovered from the jarring stop then Karch was leaning across the center console onto her and pressing the long dark barrel of a gun against her face. He brought his free hand up and locked it onto the underside of her jaw.
"Listen to me. Are you listening?"
He was squeezing her jaw and she was unable to speak. She nodded.
"Good. What you need to know is that the people I work for care about one thing at this time. The money. Nothing else. So don't be like your pals Leo or Jersey. It will only get you killed."
Cassie just stared at him down the length of the gun. She could see it had a silencer attached to it.
"Don't think," Karch said. "Just talk."
He relaxed the pressure slightly so she could speak.
"Okay," she said. "Don't hurt me and I'll tell you where it is."