Authors: Jackie Collins
'I have to stay in the shadows,' he said mysteriously.
'There's no reason for you to do that. You can be a big star if you want to.'
This woman definitely talked too much, this Jordanna Levitt. And sometimes she even made sense. It puzzled him that she wasn't cowering with fear like the other one. He pulled her to her feet. 'We're going back downstairs.'
'My ankle,' she protested, hobbling.
'Either walk, or I'll drag you.'
The Man opened the cellar door and they descended into darkness.
She held her breath, waiting for him to realize that Cheryl was gone. It didn't seem to register at first. He looked around, then shone his flashlight, taking a second look around the dark cellar, hardly believing Cheryl was not there.
'Where is she?' he said at last, the hardness in his voice chilling.
'I... I don't know,' Jordanna said.
'You tricked me!' he screamed, losing control.
Before she could protect herself, he hauled back and slapped her across the face. Blood trickled from a cut on her lip.
She tried to bring her hands up to save herself from a second assault, but as she was still handcuffed to him it was impossible.
He dragged her hands away from her face and hit her again.
She kicked out, attempting to catch him in the groin, but he moved swiftly, punching her in the face.
For a moment she was stunned. He took the opportunity to unlock the handcuffs joining them together. She rallied and kicked out again, infuriating him.
'You wanna play games,' he yelled. 'You wanna play fucking games?' And with that, he withdrew a gun from his belt, pointing it directly at her.
Silently she said her prayers because she thought this was it. He was about to blow her brains out and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
But he didn't. He stared at her for a moment, the gun in position, his eyes two flat dead zones.
She licked her lips, tasting her own blood. Oh, God, she might be petrified, but she'd never give him the satisfaction of seeing her beg.
He released the safety catch on the gun and continued to stare at her.
She met his gaze steadfastly, refusing to look away. If this was the way it was supposed to be, she was ready.
After a few seconds he lowered the weapon. 'I've got to find her,' he muttered, almost to himself.
She didn't say a word, she knew when to stay quiet.
He began stuffing the gun back in his belt.
Window of opportunity.
She took it. Bringing her wrists up, she pounded him under the chin. He fell back, startled, and she followed up with a violent kick to his head and a race for the stairs.
But he was too quick for her. As she passed, he grabbed her by the ankle, twisted hard, and she fell to the floor with a dull thud.
'Cunt!' he screamed. 'Dirty stinking cunt!'
She tried to get up, but before she could, he leaped on top of her, straddling her body with his - placing his hands around her neck and beginning to squeeze.
He was strong, much stronger than her. She found herself totally helpless, trapped beneath him, unable to move.
He was so close she could feel his sickening breath in her face.
This is not good, she thought dizzily. This... is... not... good...
He continued to squeeze her throat, shutting out all sound and sensation, until finally everything went black and she lapsed into unconsciousness.
'I thought we was meeting at seven,' Luca said bad-temperedly as Mac approached. 'This don't seem like seven t'me.'
'I took a chance you'd be here earlier,' Mac said. 'We had to close down shooting today.'
'How come?'
'Jordanna Levitt and Cheryl Landers are missing,'
'Who're they?'
'They both testified against Zane at his trial.'
'What're you saying?'
'I'm saying he's probably got them.'
'Goddamn it!' Luca muttered, slapping his fist into the palm of his hand. Then he looked over at Quincy and Michael. 'You wanna introduce me to your friends?'
'They're private detectives working for me.'
'Why're you bringin' them here?'
'Because we've got to talk. And they can help.'
Michael stepped forward. He was finally face to face with the notorious Luca Carlotti, and the guy looked like just another ageing hood with good grooming. 'The cops know, or are about to, that you're Zane Ricca's uncle,' he said.
'Yeah? How d'you figure that?' Luca asked belligerently.
'I have a journalist friend who's been doing some investigating. She came up with these facts and she's telling the cops.'
'Aw, jeez!' Luca complained. 'Is this gonna be all over the press?'
'How close are you to finding Zane?' Michael asked urgently.
'I'm not talkin' to no cops,' Luca warned.
'You don't have to,' Michael said. 'This is between us. For now. The cops'll be all over here soon.'
'How'd they know I'm here?'
'They'll find out, it's no secret.' Quincy joined the conversation, working on a hunch. 'Who's Bosco Nanni?'
Luca responded suspiciously.
'Cheryl Landers was visiting him at this hotel the night before last.'
'Visiting Bosco?' Reno said.
Quincy nodded. 'That's right.'
Luca chortled. 'The only visitor Bosco had was a hooker.'
'So you
do
know him?'
'Wanna make somethin' outta it?' Luca said, impatient at having to answer questions.
'Can we talk to him?' Michael said.
'When he gets back.'
'Where is he?'
'He had to go do somethin' for me.'
'We'll wait,' Mac said.
Bobby and Jordan arrived at the police precinct at the same time as Ethan and Estelle Landers, Cheryl's parents.
Estelle rushed over to Jordan, her lower lip quivering. 'My little girl!' she cried dramatically. 'They've got my little girl. I always knew this would happen. I warned Ethan we had to be careful of kidnapping.'
'Let's hope that's all it is,' Jordan said grimly, backing away because Estelle smelled like a bottle of stale wine.
Ethan Landers stepped forward to greet Jordan. The two men hugged - a theatrical gesture they both seemed to take comfort from. Ethan was a heavy-set man with thick red hair and matching bushy eyebrows. He and Jordan were old adversaries.
'What do you know about this?' Ethan asked, rubbing his stubby fingers together.
Jordan shook his head. 'Not much. They seem to think it could be the actor the girls testified against. He's out of jail, and from what I understand he's already murdered the other four witnesses who testified against him. God knows what he'll do with our daughters if he has them. God only knows.'
Bobby extended his hand to Mrs Landers. He'd known her since he was a child, the Landers were good friends of Jerry's. 'Bobby Rush,' he reminded her.
She looked at him through a faintly alcoholic haze. 'Oh, Bobby dear, why are you here?'
'Jordanna and I are good friends.'
'This is so shocking,' Estelle said, wringing her perfectly manicured hands.
Try fucking unbelievable, Bobby thought. Try how can this be happening?
And once again a dull feeling of helplessness overcame him, because there was absolutely nothing he could do.
The police had set up a room for relatives and friends to sit in. Word from above was keep these people happy - they were key members of the Hollywood community, and therefore had to be treated like royalty.
Ethan Landers took one look at the lack-lustre table of refreshments set out - a bowl of Frito's and some warm cans of Coke - and sent out to Nate 'n' Al's for a suitable spread.
'Surely we don't have to stay here?' Estelle asked plaintively, yearning for the comforts of Bel Air and a bottle of gin so she could fix herself a decent martini.
'For a while,' Ethan replied, wishing he could put her in the limo and send her home.
Estelle was not good in crisis situations. Neither was he.
The butler discovered Marjory Sanderson at noon, lying on her bathroom floor barely conscious. She had slit her wrists with a fortunately rather dull razor-blade.
He had the presence of mind to summon Mr Sanderson's very discreet personal physician, who had her rushed by private ambulance to a low-key exclusive clinic where they were able to take care of her without the ugly intrusion of the press.
It wasn't the first time.
'Take a look over there,' Rosa said, as they were on their way out. 'What am I looking at?'
'Bobby Rush, Jordan Levitt, and the Landers.'
'Bobby Rush is haunting me,' Kennedy groaned. 'He's everywhere I go.'
'Why's he here? I smell a story.'
'Let's go, Rosa, I have a story of my own to finish.'
'Wouldn't you like to interview the grieving parents?'
Kennedy jumped on her. 'You're sick, you know that? They have nothing to grieve about yet. And I hope they never will.'
'Well, I'd sure like to put them on camera and find out how they're feeling now.'
'Exactly like any parent would feel in this situation. Leave them alone.'
Rosa nodded to herself. 'I'm coming back with a crew. This is a big one, and I've got access.'
'Why don't you dump your prestigious anchor position and join
Hard Copy?
I'm sure they'd hang out the American flag to have you aboard.'
'A story is a story. Don't get holier than thou on me.'
Kennedy shook her head. 'There are some things you do and some you don't. Interviewing the parents of two girls who could be horribly murdered is
definitely
a no.'
Rosa sighed, 'I really hate it when you're in love.'
Three things took place at once.
The limo driver decided he was lost and pulled to a stop in the middle of the rutted road while he tried to figure out where he was going.
Eldessa trudged up behind the big car, manoeuvring her footsore way past it.
And Cheryl stared from the bushes wild-eyed and panicked, clutching her coat around her.
She saw the limo but couldn't make up her mind whether to ask for help or not. It was possible the car could be Zane's. Best to stay hidden.
Eldessa kept walking, eyes to the front. She passed by the limo, but not before Bosco spotted her. He opened the car door and got out.
'Hey,' he yelled, 'ain't you the maid up at Mr Carlotti's?'
Eldessa stopped and considered her reply. Had they already found Zane? Was he with Shelley? If this was the case she'd get no reward, and her long walk would have been in vain.
She glared at the fat man. 'I was gonna call Mr Carlotti,' she said resentfully. 'When I was sure.'
'When you was sure of what?' Bosco asked, puzzled, because what was Luca's maid doing in this godforsaken place?
'That he was with Shelley,' Eldessa said.
Bosco had no idea what she was talking about. He was just about to ask, when Zane Ricca came into view, proceeding down the road like an armed terrorist, clad all in black, holding on to an Uzi machine-gun which he pointed straight at them.
Bosco felt his stomach turn a loop. 'Shit!' he mumbled. 'Goddamn fucking
shit
?
But it was too late for him to do anything.
Jordanna drifted in and out of consciousness, trying desperately to come back. Rolling over on the cold hard floor, she opened her eyes and began throwing up, almost choking on her own vomit.
The important thing was she was still alive, she had another chance and she was taking it. Goddamn it, she was a survivor, she
had
to take it, otherwise she'd never see Bobby again. Or her father. And she wanted to be around for her new stepbrother or sister.
Get up
, a voice screamed in her head.
Get up and get out. Move now! Do it
!
She staggered to her feet. No handcuffs, no ties to bind her.
It dawned on her that he'd left her for dead. The cowardly sonofabitch thought he'd finished her off.
She could still feel his hands around her throat, squeezing... squeezing... squeezing the life out of her.
Zane Ricca. You made a big mistake. I am not dead. I am here. And you will pay for everything you've done to me and all those other women.
Dizzily she started up the cellar stairs, but when she reached the top she was devastated to discover the door was locked.
A moment of desperation.
Only a moment. She would figure something out. After all, Jordanna Levitt was a true survivor.
Steven Seagal eat shit. I am King. I am the finest. I AM THE BIGGEST MOVIE STAR IN THE WORLD.
The Man thought good thoughts as he trained his Uzi on the three people.
Three rats caught in a trap. Only he was the trap, and he was deadly.
They'd better not mess with him or he'd blow them away.
He'd never shot anyone before. He'd certainly never killed a man, although there'd been many times in prison he'd had the desire to do so.
Strangling women seemed like such a gentle way to REMOVE THE SCUM FROM THE EARTH.
He watched as Bosco reached for what looked like a gun.
The Man let rip, spraying him with bullets.
Bosco didn't fall immediately. He stood for a moment as blood spurted from the newly made holes in his body. His eyes bugged wide open with surprise, then he fell, air whooshing from his open mouth.
The limo driver decided to make a run for it.
The Man liked that. Rat deserting sinking ship. Run rat. Run rabbit. Run fucking run.
The Man aimed and fired, hitting him in the back with a nicely balanced spray of bullets.
Eldessa stood her ground, her gnarled hands clutching on to the wooden cross hanging around her withered neck.
He knew who she was and he hated her. Nosy old bitch. Always watching him, dying to sneak back into his room after he'd installed the heavy-duty locks.