“I know you’ve discussed the tape with that cute little piece of ass you have running around your office. We’ll be chatting with her too.”
Oh God, no! What have I done? Shit, not Rita.
“She knows nothing, goddammit. She’s a filing clerk, that’s all. I don’t confide in her about anything. You told me yourself the tape is illegal. Believe me, she knows nothing.”
“You’re protesting too much. She’s in on it, all right.”
I squirmed, wanting to get my hands around his fat ugly neck and squeeze until his eyeballs popped out of their sockets. “God damn it! I told you she doesn’t know anything!”
Angelo hit me with his fist this time. My head snapped back and my vision blurred. I shook my head, spraying blood around the room.
“You’re a lying sack of shit, O’Brien. But we have ways.” Karadimos reached in his desk drawer again. This time he pulled out a syringe and held it to the light. A drop of viscous fluid oozed out of the tip of the needle.
C H A P T E R 49
Angelo jerked me out of the chair and dropped me onto the old, ratty car bench seat that Karadimos used as an office couch. I didn’t dare resist, not with Gus keeping the gun trained on me.
“Lay him out and tie his arms and legs down.”
Karadimos tossed Angelo the roll of duct tape. He came around from his desk, holding the syringe. “Don’t try anything, O’Brien. Wouldn’t want to have Gus shoot you here and mess up the upholstery.”
I realized what he was going to do: pump me full of Sodium Pentothal or Amytal-truth serum. Early in my LAPD career, I’d seen a detective use the stuff on a prisoner. It wasn’t pretty. The cop gave the guy too much and he convulsed and almost died.
“No, you sonofabitch!”
Angelo backhanded me across the face again. The blow loosened one of my back teeth. I pressed it with my tongue and felt it move. My face must have looked like hamburger. “Shut up, and do as you’re told,” he snapped. “Or I’ll whack you again, harder.”
Now I couldn’t move. Angelo had tied my legs too tight, cutting off the blood flow to my feet, and Gus stood over me with the business end of the revolver pressed against my forehead. Karadimos held the syringe up to the light; a tiny stream of liquid shot out of the needle. “Two milliliters should do the trick, don’t want to knock you out entirely.” He jabbed the needle in my thigh, right through the fabric of my pants.
The hell with Gus and the gun. I twisted and bucked, tried to kick my feet. No good, my legs were trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey. I struggled harder.
As Karadimos slowly depressed the plunger, he shouted, “Hold still, O’Brien. You’ll break the goddamn needle. Angelo, for chrissakes, pin his legs!”
Angelo’s two hands were like vice grips, clamping my knees against the seat. But it didn’t matter. There was nothing I could do now. The fluid coursed through my veins.
I’m weak, muscles like Jell-O and warm, very warm. Pain in my face, disappeared…a nice…no, a wonderful euphoria coming over me. I’m floating…drifting in the air. Eyelids heavy…vision closing in…a circle of light, getting smaller, smaller in the darkness.
“Wake up!” a faraway voice said. I felt a slap across my face. Didn’t hurt, and I didn’t care. Someone slapped me again. Just want to sleep, such a beautiful sleep…
I felt another slap. “Wake up!” the voice, closer this time, almost in my ear. “Can you hear me? Wake up, you son of a bitch!”
A sliver of dim light…eyelids heavy, each weighed ten pounds. I floated on the car seat, weightless…Karadimos, floating too. His face inches from mine. A blur, a hand whipped across my face…why…what have I done? The Greek…mad…not floating anymore. My tongue is thick. Hard to breathe…focus, focus, try to focus. Nothing hurts. He said to relax…relax…
“I could’ve given him too much.” Karadimos’s voice.
Have to talk…tell him how I feel. “Good morning…what a wonderful day.” My voice is strange. I said that?
“Wait, he’s coming around. In a few more seconds he’ll jabber like a cockatoo. I want to hold him in twilight. Gus, get me the black satchel by my desk. Has more juice in it, in case we need it later.”
“I like juice…like coffee better, but my coffee tastes like piss,” I heard myself say and had no idea what I was talking about. “Rita makes good coffee…goddamn; she’s pretty…fucking beautiful. Wait, I’m her boss. Wouldn’t be right…”
“Welcome back, Jimmy. How do you feel?”
“Fucking great, thank you very much.”
“We’re going to have a nice little talk. Do you feel like talking to me?”
“Yeah, a nice talk. What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about the tape recording.”
Tape. I began singing the words to “Hey, Jude.”
“Jimmy, listen to me. Did you tell anyone about the tape?”
“I lost the tape…my favorite, the Beatles. They don’t perform anymore, you know…”
“Not that tape. The one you recorded at Chasen’s.”
“Lost it, too…let a hooker steal it…she gave it to you. Sol said she worked for you.”
“How much does Silverman know about my business?”
Sol’s smart…he’s my friend.” I could hear my voice echo in my brain. Don’t talk. Don’t talk about Sol. I shouldn’t talk about him. “Sol doesn’t like you.” I rolled my head. So confused, hazy, but I couldn’t stop talking. “Sol wants to put you in jail.” Christ, keep your trap shut.
“Did you tell the police, or the district attorney, what you heard on the tape?”
“She hates me…”
“Who hates you?”
“Bobbi.”
“Why?”
“Thinks I lied about your airplane.”
“You did, Jimmy. You lied to her. I didn’t kill that girl.”
“Bobbi’s pretty too, I’d like to-oops, not gonna to say that. We have a Chinese wall…” Is this a nightmare? I wanted to throw up.
“What’s he talking about, boss? What’s this crap about a Chinese wall?”
“Shut up, Gus! He’s talking, that’s what counts.”
It became quiet for a moment. Tired…I felt tired, but not as tired as before. The shadows in my mind started to brighten…I’m coming back. I remember now. Oh Christ! He gave me Pentothal!
Karadimos slapped me again. “Tell me about Rita, your secretary. What does she know? Had she heard the tape?”
“Fuck you, Karadimos!”
“Gus, get me another syringe out of the bag.”
Do something, and do it fast. Act drunk, something. Act like someone who’d overdosed on Pentothal. I began singing again.
“Hold it. I think he’s still under the influence. If I give him any more he might blackout or croak. We won’t get shit from him.”
“Lady Madonna… children at your…feet, sweet feet.”
I slurred my voice. The Beatles would shit if they heard me sing their music.
“O’Brien, tell me about Rita. What does she know?”
“Aw, sweet little Rita. Dumb as a box of rocks. I only keep her around because she’s got a cute ass…”
“O’Brien! What does she know?”
“She doesn’t know her goddamn name…but she can sure swing that sweet little tushy. Good night, Karadimos. I’m going to take a nice li’l nappy.” I closed my eyes and pretended to pass out. I had to control my breathing, relax, let my body go limp. It was my only hope at staying alive.
Karadimos slapped me again. But I just lay there with my eyes closed, trying hard to keep from slipping back into the simmering fog.
“O’Brien, wake up! Goddammit, I need more information.” Karadimos’s voice echoed in my head.
“What the hell was that all about, boss?” Gus asked.
“The guy sounds like he’s drunk. I don’t think your joy juice worked.”
“He may be faking,” Karadimos said. “Hand me that lighter on the desk.”
A moment later someone grabbed my arm. I head a click then felt a searing pain on the back of my hand. If it weren’t for the lingering effect of the Pentothal, I wouldn’t have been able to stand it. But the pain would help keep me alert. I clenched my teeth and didn’t move.