“Are you going to use a net?” Jan asked.
“No net. If it isn’t death-defying, it isn’t worth doing.”
“Oh God, Vince,” she said. “Haven’t we had enough excitement for one week?”
“Enough for a lifetime.” He paused. “So, what do you think?”
Jan drank her soda, and told him what she thought. “All right. It’s a great idea, even if it means you might get killed.”
“I won’t,” Hardare promised.
“Good. But I still have a concern. Eugene Osbourne is still running around L.A., and may come after us again.”
“The LAPD is going to find him,” her husband said. “It’s only a matter of time before they do.”
“But what if they don’t?”
“We can always ask the LAPD to protect us,” her husband said.
“They’ve done that already, and look what happened. I have another idea.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to handle security,” Jan said. “That includes the theatre, and wherever we end up living while we’re in town. I know a professional security company in the area that protects foreign dignitaries. I’ll hire several of their people. And I will get a gun. Nothing fancy, a .9 automatic will be fine. If Osbourne rears his ugly head, I’m going to squash him like a bug.”
“You sound serious,” Crystal said.
“Dead serious,” Jan replied.
Her husband could not speak. That was unusual for him, and Jan leaned over the bed and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Surprised?”
“Yes. I thought you were going to tell me you wanted a vacation,” he said.
“No, Vince, I want vindication. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal,” he said. “Now, let’s get out of here. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Chapter 31
Malibu
Driving out to Malibu on the Pacific Coast Highway, Wondero could not help but stare longingly at the ocean’s gently lapping waves. He had grown up surfing in Santa Monica, and the sound of waves still called him like the sirens in the old Greek myths.
Malibu beach was open to the public, but the closeness of the homes made it impossible for anyone to reach the precious sand without first hiking for six miles. Wondero had often toyed with the idea of taking a personal day, and spending it walking the entire stretch, just to satisfy his curiosity and see if it was any better than what he’d grown up on.
Rolling up his window, he quickly fell back to reality. The phone call he’d gotten from Hardare an hour ago had floored him. The detective had checked his anger long enough to learn where Hardare was staying, then told him what he thought of his decision to remain in L.A. while Death was still at large.
“That’s it up ahead,” Rittenbaugh said. “Nice place.”
Wondero parked in the driveway behind a mud-caked Bronco with a trailer hitch. He had never quite understood Malibu’s allure, and he supposed he never would. Literally thousands of houses, some as imposing as mansions, others the size of matchboxes, lined the four-lane road like cereal boxes on a grocery shelf. He wondered if Hardare really thought he was safe here, in a place with a major highway for a backyard.
At the front door a thin Oriental examined their photo ID’s.
“All right,” he said, ushering them in.
The Oriental wore a black turtleneck and skintight jeans, no shoes or socks, and did not look armed. As he led them down a hallway, Wondero realized that he made no noise when he walked. Passing a kitchen, they entered a multi-level living area with vaulted ceilings and glossy parquet floors so bright the sunlight seemed to dance on them. The room was sparsely decorated, with a sprawling L-shaped leather couch, plus a few oddly shaped tables and chairs that could have easily been pieces of expensive art. In the room’s center sat a large piece of furniture covered by a white sheet.
“What’s your name?” Wondero asked.
“My name is Li,” the Oriental said.
“Are you in charge of security?”
“That’s Mrs. Hardare’s job.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I don’t kid. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
Li excused himself and left the room. Wondero went to the window and looked out. Somewhere he remembered reading that Jan Hardare had been an instructor at a school for mercenaries, a fact that he had immediately discounted after Death had kidnapped her.
“Hello, detectives.”
Wondero slowly turned around. Hardare had appeared out of nowhere, and was standing in the center of the room. The magician’s cheeks were flushed and his brow was glistening.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been out running...” Wondero said.
“Not at all. I was upstairs hanging upside down in a straitjacket. But it probably did my heart as much good.”
Wondero said, “I thought you were going to leave town.”
“Did I say that?”
“Yes, right after your wife was kidnapped. You told me that if you found Jan, you were going to get out of L.A.”
“I realize this is difficult to understand,” Hardare told them, “but too much was at stake not to go through with the engagement. Besides, what’s to stop Osbourne from following us? We’re as safe here as we would be anywhere else.”
“You’re putting your lives at risk,” Wondero said. “Whatever you stand to gain by staying here can’t replace a life.”
Wondero paused, expecting Hardare to agree. When he didn’t, the detective threw his arms into the air and in frustration said, “Look, do you mind if I speak with your wife?”
“Go ahead,” said a woman’s voice.
Wondero again spun around, this time finding Jan standing directly behind him.
“Where did you come from?” Wondero asked incredulously.
“Indiana, originally,” she said. “We appreciate your concern, but I think we’re well prepared for Osbourne this time around.”
“Prepared?” Wondero said in disbelief. “Tell me how you prepare for a sociopath.”
“I’ll do better,” Jan said, “I’ll show you.”
Jan gave them a quick tour.
The beach house was owned by a magician friend who was a successful orthopedic surgeon. The house in Malibu was his weekend retreat, and hearing of Hardare’s troubles, he had graciously offered it because of its elaborate security system.
The upstairs consisted of a master suite and a gymnasium. There were intercoms in each room, and the windows were wired to a surveillance system that ran behind the walls, and could not be tampered with. If for some reason the electricity failed, the house would convert over to a generator in the downstairs utility room.
The first floor security was even more elaborate. The windows were also wired, while sonar boxes in each room would alert them if anything larger than an ant made an appearance. To keep his guests entertained, the doctor had built sliding partitions into the walls, allowing not only for a lot of fun, but also a quick escape if there should ever be a fire.
To further insure their safety, Jan had hired three instructors from her old school; each had fought in at least one war, none of which the United States had participated in. One man — Jan would not say which — had also specialized in “wet work” while employed by the CIA years before.
Jan left the icing for her husband. They had returned to the living area when he dramatically whisked the sheet off the stage illusion that occupied the middle of the spacious room.
“This was lent to me by my friends, Siegfreid and Roy,” Hardare said, draping the sheet over his arm. “Harry, tell me what you see.”
Wondero circled the stand. “I see a square metal cage sitting atop a stand that looks about three inches thick.”
“Anything else?” Hardare asked.