He had to be in heat.
It turned out to be a very long ride. We watched the stars brighten the coastal California night. Six hours later, we were still tacking on Highway 1. The Range Rover finally pulled off at a quaint, wooden signpost that read Big Sun State Park, among other things.
As if to validate that we were really in Big Sun, we passed an antique van with a bumper sticker: VISUALIZE INDUSTRIAL COLLAPSE.
“Visualize Dr. Will Rudolph having a massive stroke,” Kate growled softly.
I checked my watch as we left the main highway. "It's past three.
Getting late for him to get into any serious trouble tonight." I hoped that was the case.
“If there was ever any doubt, this may prove he's a bloodsucking vampire,” Kate muttered. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest and had been for most of the long ride. “He's going off to sleep in his favorite coffin.” “Right. That's when we drive a wooden stake through his heart,” I told her. We were both a little groggy. I had taken a pill during the ride. Kate declined. She said she knew too much about drugs and was leery of most of them.
We passed a complex of directional signs: Point Sur, Pfeiffer Beach, Big Sur Lodge, Ventana, the Esalen Institute. Will Rudolph headed in the direction of Big Sur Lodge, Sycamore Canyon, Bottchers Gap Campgrounds.
“I was hoping he would go to Esalen,” Kate quipped. “Learn to meditate, deal with his inner turmoil.” “What in hell is he up to tonight?” I wondered out loud. What were he and Casanova doing? So far it was impossible to figure out. “His hideaway might be up here in the woods, Kate,” I offered a thought.
“Maybe he has a house of horror just like Casanova's.” Twinning, I thought again. It made a lot of sense. They would be providing support systems for each other. Parallel tracks for the two monsters. Where did they meet, though? Did the two of them ever hunt together? I suspected that they had.
The white Range Rover was winding along a hilly and rather rambunctious side road that branched east from the ocean. Ancient, somber redwoods flashed on either side of the narrow ribbon of highway. A pale full moon seemed to be moving directly above the Rover, following it.
I let him get a safe distance ahead so that he was actually out of our sight. The huge fir trees seemed to float past our car on either road shoulder. Dark shadows in real life. A bright yellow sign in the headlights read: Impassable in wet weather.
“He's right there, Alex.” Kate's warning came a little too late. “He's stopped!” The Gentleman's hooded eyes glared at our car as we passed him and the Range Rover.
He had seen us.
Alex Cross 2 - Kiss the Girls
CHAPTER 66.
DR. WILL RUDOLPH had turned into a rutted, dirt-and-gravel driveway hidden from the main road. He was stooped down inside the Rover, and was gathering an armful of who-knew-what from the backseat. He stared up at our passing car with a cold, questioning look in his eyes.
I kept speeding along on the blacktop road that was accentuated by overhanging, gnarled black branches. A few hundred yards farther, just around a curve, I eased over onto the narrow shoulder. I stopped in front of a dented metal road sign that promised more dangerous twists and turns in the road up ahead.
“He's stopped at a cabin,” I said into the FBI car's two-way radio.
“He's on foot, out of the Rover.” “We saw that. We've got him, Alex.” John Asaro's voice came back over the two-way radio. “We're on the other side of the cabin now. Looks dark inside. He's turning on lights. El pais grande del sur. That's what the Spanish called this place way back when. Beautiful spot to catch this fucker.” Kate and I got out of the car. She looked a little pale, understandably so. The temperature was probably in the forties, maybe even the thirties, and the mountain air was bracing. But Kate wasn't shivering just from the damp cold.
“We're going to get him soon,” I said to her. “He's starting to make mistakes.” “It could be another house of horror. You were right,” she said in a low voice. Her eyes stared straight ahead. I hadn't seen her this unsettled since I'd first met her in the hospital. “It feels like it, Alex ... feels almost the same. Feels creepy. I'm not being very brave, am I?” “Believe me, Kate. I'm not feeling particularly brave right now, either.” The thick coastal fog seemed to roll on forever. My stomach felt icy and sour. We had to get moving.
Kate and I went into the dark screen of woods, heading toward the cabin. The north wind whistled and howled loudly through the towering redwood and fir trees. I had no idea what to expect from here on.
“Shit,” Kate whispered her summation of the night's experience. “I'm not kidding, Alex.” “You've got that right.” El pais grande del sur at three o'clock in the morning. Rudolph had come to a lonely outpost on the edge of the earth. Casanova had a house in the South, in the deep woods, too. A “disappearing” house where he kept a collection of young women.
I thought of the spooky diaries in the Los Angeles Times. Could Naomi have been moved out here for some crazy, psychopathic reason? Maybe she was being kept in the cabin, or somewhere nearby?
I stopped walking suddenly. I could hear wind chimes, which sounded particularly creepy under the circumstances.
Up ahead, a small cabin was visible. It was pink, with white doors and white window trim. It looked like a pleasant-enough summer place.
“He left a light for us,” Kate whispered behind me. “I remember that Casanova used to play loud rock '' roll music when he was in the house.” I could tell it was painful for her to be thinking about her captivity again, to be reliving it. “You see any similarities to this cabin?” I asked her. I was trying to be very still inside, trying to get ready for the Gentleman.
“No. I only saw the inside of the other place, Alex. Let's hope it won't disappear on us.” “I'm hoping for a lot of things right now. I'll put that on the list.” The cabin was an A-frame, and probably built to be a vacation home or weekend retreat. There were three or four bedrooms from the look of it.
I took out my Clock as we got closer. The Clock was the weapon of choice these days in the inner city; it weighed a little over a pound when loaded and was easily concealed. It would probably work fine in el pais grande del sur, too.
Kate kept behind me as we moved toward a clearing in the trees that served as a backyard. There were actually two lights glittering and drawing bugs to the house. One was the front-porch lamp. The second was in the back of the cabin. I made my way toward the second, dimmer light in back. I gestured for Kate to stay back, which she did.
This could be the Gentleman Caller, I warned myself. Take it very slow. This could also be a trap. Anything could happen here. There's no predicting from here on.
I could see into a rear bedroom window. I was less than ten steps away from the cabin walls, and probably the mass murderer who was terrifying the West Coast. Then I saw him.
Dr. Will Rudolph was pacing around the small wood paneled room and he was talking to himself. He appeared to be highly agitated. He was hugging himself with both arms. As I moved closer, I could see that he was perspiring heavily. Not in good shape at all. The scene reminded me of “quiet rooms” in mental hospitals, where patients sometimes go to act out their problems and volatile emotions.
Rudolph suddenly screamed at someone ... but there was no one else in the room.
His face and his neck were bright crimson red as he screamed again and again ... at absolutely no one! He was screaming at the top of his lungs. His veins looked ready to burst.
Seeing him like this chilled me, and I slowly backed away from the cabin.