AT 29 (98 page)

Chase stared at the folder nervously scratching his chin. “Where'd you get that?”

Felix turned to Benson and opened the other folder. “And you, says here you like to mix it up a bit, a couple of arrests and few nights behind bars for brawling. Nothing too serious. No drugs like tonight.”

Benson's face reddened. “Who are you?”

“All that matters is the trouble I can make for both of you if you don't do what I say.”

“You're not a cop! You can't do anything to us!”

Felix reacted calmly as he continued. “When are you planning to leave for Australia?”

“What difference does it make to you?”

“Me? Why no difference at all. For the two of you, it's a matter of jail or escape, like your biker pals.” He nodded over his shoulder to the team leader talking with McCabe. “He used to be FBI. Now he freelances for situations like this. He specializes in punks like you. Sometimes, he hustles people away before it gets out of hand. Other times he calls his buddies on the force. Which one's it going to be for you?” Neither Benson nor Chase answered. Felix continued. “It's in everyone's best interest to be as far away from here as possible. Come tomorrow, I suggest you both be on a plane to Australia.”

Benson screwed up his courage. “What happens if we don't?”

“I tell my friend to call his buddies at the Miami Police department. You'll spend the next few days haggling with lawyers. Maybe you post bail. Maybe you never get charged for anything. Or maybe we dig into what you've been doing for the last few months, you and the Vultures. Who knows what we might find?”

Chase came off the railing. “I'm goin'.” He looked at Benson. “He's offering us a chance to get away clean. I'm takin' it.” He shuffled off.

A moment later, Benson also began to move. “Wait up.”

Felix spoke after them, as they walked away. “Remember what I said. Get on a plane to Australia. Don't waste time doing it.”

In the car Cindy kept her eyes on the road, contemplating how to tell Jimmy about Les. He slumped low in the passenger seat, saying nothing as the storefronts went by. Cindy knew he was in pain. It was his left shoulder and hand. She worried about his ability to play guitar. It didn't look good. Finally, she took the plunge.

“I know you started drinking again.” Jimmy stirred, tensing his body. “I could tell when you were getting ready to take the stage in Atlanta. Did it start then?”

“Seems like everyone knows. Sonny brought it up just before we went on tonight. Ellis came looking before we went to the party. I suppose you told them.”

Cindy shook her head, still keeping her eyes on the ambulance ahead. “No, if they know, it's not because of me.”

“McCabe?”

“Miles doesn't know.”

“I'm stopping. I won't touch it once we get to Australia.”

“Because of Les?”

“Yes.”

“She was here tonight.”

Miles listened carefully while Felix drove to Jimmy's townhouse. His security chief detailed all that took place in the house on Marvel Island. To Miles, it was a chilling account, made palatable only because Felix seemed to have everything under control. The executive had new respect for his friend. He'd already decided he would offer the one-time FBI agent a fulltime job with all the resources necessary to make sure things like Marvel Island never happened again. Money was no object. Blossom and its future was all that mattered. When Felix finished, he moved on to what came next.

“When is the concert in Australia?”

“Two shows in two weeks. Sydney and Melbourne.

“When is everybody supposed to head over there?”

“Cindy booked flights for next week.”

“Charter a plane for tomorrow.”

“What?” Miles was caught by surprise. “I don't know if I can.”

“That's your first order of business.”

“Why so soon?”

“Because no matter how tight we control things, somebody's going to talk. Before you know it, reporters will be snooping around. The police will pick up on it. Then there'll be an investigation. You had a lot of people over on that island. Most of them got away safely before me and my guys got there. You can thank your man Ellis for that, but they left in a hurry and some of them saw things. The rumor mill's probably already started.”

“So, if my people are gone, they won't be around to answer questions?”

“That's the idea.”

“What did you say to those other two in the parking lot?”

“They'll find their own way over there. If I read them right, they'll be on a plane pronto.”

“Why not put them on the charter with everybody else?”

“Because they're the problem. After the last two shows they're gone for good.”

“I'll take care of that.”

“No. You worry about the others. I'll handle those two.”

“How?”

“I'll figure it out. There are a few other problems to worry about first.”

Miles girded for more. “Winfield?”

“He comes later. The hospital people know the drill. They'll keep quiet. FBI uses it when it has a problem. We've got three immediate situations. First, you have two underage girls over at the townhouse right now. They tell me they're only fifteen.”

Miles' face whitened. “How did they get involved?”

“Who knows? That's not important. Whoever in your crew was messing around with those girls could be in for big problems with the law. I'm betting they either did sex or drugs or both. What I've got to do is get them home to their parents. Along the way, I've got to scare them so they don't say a word about what happened.”

“What else?”

“That writer, what's her name, Alice?”

“Alice Limoges.”

“Something happened to her in Atlanta. Gang rape, I think. She's also strung out on drugs. Looks like heroin.”

“Just great.”

“The big thing is her writing about it. We've got to stop her from doing that.”

“Anything more to worry about?”

“The third problem has to do with your big star, Whitehurst. He's into the drugs, too. Big time, from what I could tell from the look of him. Heroin, like the writer.”

“But you collected the drugs, didn't you?”

“Sure. Sent the whole bundle back to the Bronx with the bikers.”

“So, problem solved.”

“You don't know much about drugs, do you?”

“I know they're trouble.”

Felix checked a street sign and made a sharp turn into a complex of townhouses. He pulled into the first available parking space and shut off the motor. Then he turned to face McCabe.

“Him, the writer and Winfield are all hooked. Winfield will keep for now in the hospital, but somebody is going to have to get him into treatment. Maybe that's you. Otherwise, he's a problem waiting to happen. We can't do much about the writer. She looks pretty sick to me, but she's going to need help, too, if only to keep her quiet. Whitehurst is the most immediate issue. He's going to want more of the stuff long before he hits the stage in Australia. His fix is heading back up the highway. By the time he gets to Australia, he'll be desperate. We've got tough drug laws here in the States, but the Australian authorities make it even tougher. They keep a close eye on who supplies the stuff in their country. When Whitehurst goes looking for more, you can bet the Australian police will get a line on him. If he gets picked up, there won't be a thing we can do.”

Miles sank low in his seat, visualizing the end of his plans for new albums and a world tour. Suddenly, everything was unraveling right before his eyes.

“I don't know what to do.”

“Methadone.”

“I've heard of it.”

“I can get some from the hospital. It'll keep Whitehurst going until he finishes up in Melbourne. That is, if he's willing to take it instead of looking for more heroin over there. It won't give him the high he needs, but it will keep the withdrawal under control.”

“Then what?”

“That's up to you. All I can do is contain things for a while. He'll have to get help.”

“Can you get Methadone for Winfield and Alice?”

“The hospital doctors will see the signs and deal with Winfield. As for the writer, I can get some for her, but it's the same as Whitehurst. She has to be willing to take it. Then, unless she gets help, she'll slip back.” He opened his door and stepped out. Miles followed. “Right now you go up and tell your people to sit tight until you make charter arrangements. Nobody goes back to the hotels. Hire someone to pick up their things and check them out of wherever they're staying. Have everything packed and delivered to the plane. You rent some vans, pick them up here and make sure they're taken directly to the airport.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to round up the two young girls and have a meeting with their parents.”

Jimmy sat up in his seat. “Where is she?” He almost shouted.

Cindy remained calm. “She's on her way back to Melbourne. Something happened at the orphanage.”

He slumped back, aware of the throbbing in his arm. “Why did she come?”

“I told her you were drinking again. I suggested she come to accompany you to Australia for the last two shows. I thought if she were with you, you'd stop. Her plane arrived late. I went to her hotel to bring her to the party. That's when she got the message to hurry back to the orphanage.”

“You knew she was coming and you didn't tell me?” His voice dripped with accusation.

“She made me promise not to tell you.”

He accepted Cindy's explanation and cooled down. “I'll take a flight and catch up with her. Will you call the airlines for me from the hospital?”

Inside the townhouse, Felix left Miles to issue orders while he took the two young girls and the older one, Travis' playmate, into another room.

“Sit down,” he ordered. Then he picked up the telephone and called his son in New York. In muffled tones he briefly described the black bag and what it contained. He gave his son the numbers from Stick's license plate. “Tell the Bronx DA to get a warrant and search the clubhouse. Then wait for them to show up. If they do what I told them to do, they should be there around this time tomorrow night.”

He hung up and turned to the three girls. With a combination of threats and argument, he scared the oldest girl into a promise of silence. The younger girls, too, although he knew their parents were the real concern. Then he drove them home one by one, the older girl first, then the two fifteen year-olds where he used the same threats and arguments to corral any thoughts the girl's parents might have harbored about making waves.

By nine a.m. he returned to the townhouse with a supply of methadone. While Miles worked the phones, making the transportation arrangements, Felix took Alice and Nigel aside. He gave each of them a package with three bottles of methadone in liquid form, marked as cough medicine. Nigel balked, but Alice, looking pale and sicker than the night before, found a glass in the bathroom and took the prescribed dose.

By late afternoon, the charter plane lifted off the runway at Miami International. Ellis was placed in charge. An hour later, Felix took a seat next to Alice on a plane bound for New York. He used the two hours and forty-five minutes in the air to assure himself that she had no intention of writing about Marvel Island. He also monitored her physical condition, which was disturbing. At LaGuardia, he collected her bags and put her into a taxi to the city. He urged her to see a doctor right away.

Jimmy was already on his way to Melbourne, connecting through Frankfurt and Bangkok. Cindy made sure his things were gathered and sent over on the charter. At mid-night, just as the bikers were crossing into Pennsylvania on Route 95, Benson and Chase boarded a commercial flight to Sydney. Two hours later, as the Vultures parked their bikes in the rundown South Bronx neighborhood they called home, a swarm of police cars moved in and surrounded them. A quick search of Stick's Harley produced the black bag with the drugs. More drugs were found in the saddlebags of the other bikes and on the person of their owners. The clubhouse had already been thoroughly searched. A large amount of cocaine, cash and an arsenal of automatic weapons were found secreted inside. The evidence was all there. The case against the Vultures was airtight.

“Jimmy's got a hundred stitches in his shoulder, another thirty in his hand. He won't be playing a guitar for weeks.” Cindy was driving an exhausted Miles back to their hotel.

“I suppose Ellis will be calling with the bad news.”

“The groups will have to improvise. Ellis will figure something out.”

“Why did Jim take a separate flight?”

“He's trying to catch up with Les. Something happened at the orphanage.”

Miles sighed wearily. “How could I have let this all fall apart so quickly?”

As the plane droned on, Jimmy took a sip from his third scotch. He was impatient and in pain. Food had no appeal. He raised his hand to get the flight attendant's attention. Downing the remnants of his glass, he pointed for another.

Les didn't wait for her suitcase. She sprinted out of customs and hailed the first taxi she saw. It was another forty minutes before she arrived at the entrance to Saint Malachy's. All seemed normal as she climbed the stairs and pushed through the door. She began to feel less agitated when she saw staff members going about their business. She thought about seeking out Sister Monica, but elected to climb the stairs to her office first. As she approached the door she saw the ominous police tape barring entrance. The door was ajar just enough to allow her to peer through. As the picture inside began to pierce her brain, she let out a gasp, then a scream that could be heard all the way down to the first floor.

Alice dropped onto her bed, unable to muster the strength to unpack her bags or even undress. She fell asleep immediately and did not move for twelve hours until summoned by the impatient ringing of the telephone. On the other end her Backbeat editor sounded a cordial note, letting out subtle hints about something big brewing for her in the publishing world. He asked about her latest and last Dispatch From the Road. Alice put him off, but after hanging up, managed to drag herself to her desk where the half finished piece lay near her typewriter. Through the afternoon she gathered her last bit of strength, finishing the article just before ten p.m. Then the first pangs of frightful craving took hold. The methadone was still in her packed bag. She found it quickly, sighing with frustration because she knew it would only take the edge off. It could never deliver the heroin high she needed. She drank straight from the bottle and then fell back into bed.