“Call me at the office and let me talk to Landman, then I’ll come.”
“I think we can arrange that,” she said.
Rakes stood and pointed at the cross, “Leave it.”
I held it out as if to ward him off and said, “Back, spawn of Satan!” He looked puzzled and mad. I said, “Didn’t you ever watch Dracula movies?”
“Movies are for veemin and childs.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” I put the cross in my shirt.
He took a step forward and said, “Leave it.”
“You get it when I get Landman.”
“I take id from you.”
I said, “You’d better bring your A-Game.”
Bond spoke to Carl in Russian, then said to me, “We trust you. You may leave.”
“Just what I planned to do,” I said. I turned up my collar like a tough guy and walked out of the mansion with sweat trickling down the sides of my face.
I figured that little soirée would stop the beatings of Landman and the women, so I had a little time. There was a message on the answering machine when I got to the office, and I pushed Play as I opened a Coke. Bond’s voice said, “We’ve located Mr. Landman and the women. Meet us tomorrow as we discussed.” Click. Well, I wasn’t going to let that go. I’d told them I wanted to speak to Landman, or no deal. I called the Meadows home and Bond answered.
“Meadows residence.”
It’s me. No deal.”
“What?”
“You let me talk to Landman or it’s off.” There were some murmurs in the background.
Bond said, “Wait a moment, I’ll put you on a three-way call.” It took maybe a minute, then Bond said, “Okay Bob, talk.”
Landman said, “This is Robert Landman.”
I recognized the voice from a dozen movies. I said, “Are you sure it’s you?”
He sounded tired, “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know you, but they say you’re going to help us if I cooperate.”
“I’m working on it.” I heard his phone disconnect, then Bond was back on the line.
“Is that enough for you? We’ll meet you at the dock for Dry Bulk shipments. It will be away from most eyes. Wait at the loading slip just north of the US Borax terminal, sundown tomorrow.”
“You bet, sweetcakes.”
“I could have been, you know,” Bond said, then hung up.
I checked on Hondo, but he was asleep. It was four PM in LA, so Hunter’s time was three hours later. I called her cell phone and got the recording. I left her a message to call me. I twiddled my thumbs, wrote and scribbled on a notepad, and was using a rubber band to shoot paper clips across the room at a bull’s-eye superimposed on a photo of Osama Bin Laden.
I’d just bopped Osama on the beak when the phone rang.
“Deadeye Baca, Private Investigator.”
“Baca, you change your name?” It was the body man at the auto repair shop. He said, “Well Deadeye, you got wheels again. I did it up special.” He sounded proud. “You’re gonna shit you’ll like it so much. Come get it.”
**