Standing On Top

Chapter 15c

The very next day, Darren was destined to find out about that price. After less than twenty-four hours of stalemate in the Darren vs. Charlie issue, the Mexican standoff, as Pauline called it, was broken.

Jake's first inkling of the issue's possible resolution came at just after eight that morning. He was under the covers and snoring in his bed, still sleeping off the eleven Coronas and eight bonghits of the night before. Suddenly, someone was pounding on his door. He tried to ignore it and stay safely asleep but the pounding was continuous, insistent.

"All right, all right!" he finally yelled as the last vestiges of unconsciousness were driven forcibly away. "Stop that knocking!"

The knocking stopped.

Jake stared at the door for a few seconds, his eyes trying to adjust to the light, his heart pounding uncomfortably fast in his chest, his head throbbing distantly with a hangover headache. "Who in the hell is it?" he asked.

The door creaked open a foot or so and Elsa's head poked through. "Sorry to wake you, Mr. Kingsley," she said, "but you have a visitor."

"A visitor?" he barked, the throb in his head picking up a little as he did so. "I'm asleep, Elsa. I'm not expecting anyone. Tell whoever it is to leave a message and come back later."

"It's Mr. Cooper, Jake," Elsa told him. "He insists upon talking to you as soon as possible."

"Coop?" Jake asked.

"He seems very agitated about something. I thought it might be important."

Jake rubbed his temples a few times and then sat up, the sheet falling away from his bare chest. "Okay," he said, still trying to clear his head. "Put him in the dining room and tell him I'll be in as soon as I get some clothes on. Is there coffee made?"

Elsa looked insulted. "Of course," she said stiffly. "I just brewed a pot of Costa Rican breakfast blend."

"Right," Jake said. "I think I can smell it now. I'll be down in a few minutes. Why don't you see if Coop wants to stay for breakfast?"

"I'll do so," she said. "What would you like?"

"Oatmeal, coffee, and some juice will do me. Coop would probably dig some of that eggs Benedict you make."

"Right away, Mr. Kingsley," she said. The door shut and he heard her footsteps go tromping off down the hall.

It was actually closer to ten minutes before Jake was able to pull himself out of bed, stagger to the bathroom to relieve his straining bladder, and pull on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He went to the bar in his bedroom suite and poured a large glass of ice water. He drank it down without taking the glass from his lips, refilled it, and used half of the second glass to wash down a couple of Tylenol, a Vitamin C tablet, and a vitamin B-12 tablet — all of which were kept in ready supply in this location. He debated brushing his teeth for a moment but decided that it could wait until after breakfast.

He made his way downstairs and found Coop sitting at the dining room table, as instructed, sipping on a cup of Elsa's coffee. Coop looked tired and more than a little hungover himself. His eyes had bags under them and were moderately bloodshot. It appeared he hadn't shaved in at least two days. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top with a pair of flip-flops on his feet.

"Wassup, Coop?" Jake asked as he sat down at the table across from him.

"Hey, Jake," he mumbled. "Sorry I got you outta bed so early, but I needed to talk to you."

"Okay," Jake said.

Elsa appeared, carrying a cup of steaming, aromatic coffee and another glass of ice water. She set them down in front of Jake.

"Thanks, Elsa," he said.

"Did you take your Tylenol and your vitamins?" she asked him.

"Yes, I did," he confirmed.

"Very good," she said. "Mr. Cooper has elected to go with the oatmeal and some toast for breakfast instead of the eggs Benedict. Will you be requiring anything else?"

"Nothing at the moment, thank you."

She nodded and made herself scarce.

Jake took a sip of the coffee and then chased it with another large slug of ice water. He looked up at Coop. "So what's up?" he asked.

"I been doing a lot of thinking," Coop said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Coop confirmed. "Thinking about this whole fucked up Darren and Charlie thing."

"I think we've all been doing a lot of thinking about that," Jake said. "Do you have an idea how to resolve it?"

Coop nodded. "Yeah," he said, and then said nothing more.

Jake waited for almost thirty seconds before saying, "So what's your idea, Coop?"

Coop sighed. "That ain't all that's been on my mind, you know?"

"Uh... no, I didn't know," Jake said.

"Pauline's your sister and all, so I'm sure she's already told you about... you know?"

Jake didn't know. He did not, in fact, have the slightest idea what Coop was talking about, nor did he really care at this particular moment. He wanted to hear what Coop had to say on the Darren vs. Charlie subject because if it were what he was hoping Coop would say, the issue would indeed be a long way toward being solved. But, like always, diplomacy was necessary in situations like this. "Pauline has not told me anything about you, Coop."

Coop looked at him as if he didn't believe him. "Oh really?"

"Really," Jake said. "Or at least if she did, it must not be memorable, because I don't know what it is you're referring to."

"She didn't tell you about the paternity suit?" Coop said.

Jake's eyes widened. No, she most definitely had not mentioned anything about that. "Paternity suit against who?" he asked. "Against you?"

"She really didn't tell you?"

"She really didn't tell me," Jake assured him. "Did someone name you in a paternity suit?"

Coop slumped forward a little and took a big slug out of his coffee. "Yeah," he said. "Some bitch I fucked last year says I knocked her up. She has a three-month old kid now and she filed suit against me last week."

This was actually enough to make Jake forget about the Darren vs. Charlie issue — at least for the moment. "Do you know this chick?" he asked. "Are you sure you fucked her?"

This might have seemed a strange question for most men — even the most amorous usually remembered those they'd had relationships with in the past year — but, for a rock star, it really wasn't. All five members of Intemperance had had sex with so many women in the course of their careers that they literally would not be able to look at any one woman and be able to say for sure if they'd been with her or not. But Coop apparently did remember. He nodded his head as soon as the question was out of Jake's mouth. "I'm sure," he said.

"Was she someone you banged more than once?"

"Yeah," Coop said. "I met her at Flamingo right after we got home from the Book tour. She's a junior investment banker or some shit like that. She was a really hot bitch with these big fake titties. You know how I like the big fake titties?"

"Yeah," Jake said. "I know how you like that."

"So I fucked her for about a week or so before I got tired of her and told her to hit the fuckin' highway. She went pretty peacefully. They don't always, you know."

"Yeah," Jake said. "That's the truth."

"Anyway, about the third or fourth day that I was fuckin' her... well... there was an accident."

"An accident?"

Coop shook his head in disgust and then hung it low. "I thought I'd finally found the perfect brand of condom," he said. "I had just bought me some of them lambskin ones, the ones that are supposed to be so thin you can hardly feel them. I put one on and I was slamming her on my living room couch and it started to feel really good. I was like, yeah! It really felt like I wasn't wearing anything at all, you know? Only, after I finished and pulled my shit out of her... well... I really wasn't wearing anything at all. The fuckin' thing had come off inside of her right after we started."

"Oh shit," Jake said.

"I had to go in and dig it out of her, man!" Coop said. "That was some gross shit!"

Jake winced a little. The image of Coop digging it out of her did not blend well with his hangover. He took a large sip of his coffee. "Yeah, I'm sure that was pretty gross all right. So what happened next? Did she ever tell you she was pregnant?"

He shook his head. "She never said shit. I never heard from her again until last week when I got served with the fuckin' paternity suit. The bitch is asking for twelve thousand dollars a month in child support! Twelve fucking thousand bucks! And that's only if I voluntarily give up all parental rights. If I want to have a relationship with this fuckin' kid, she wants twenty-five grand a month."

Jake whistled. That was pretty steep. "So I'm assuming by your questions of a few minutes ago that you talked to Pauline about this?"

"Yeah," he said. "She told me that if the kid is really mine I'm pretty much screwed. She also told me that with the accuracy of these paternity tests they've got these days there's probably no way the bitch's lawyer would've filed suit if she didn't really think it was mine. Not only that, everything matches up. It's all detailed in the lawsuit forms. The week I was banging her matches up perfectly when you compare it with the day the kid was born."

"And did she say why she didn't tell you about this?"

"She said she didn't want to be involved with me anymore and was hoping that I would never find out about the kid."

"But..." Jake said.

"But," Coop said, "she's run into some financial shit over the past few months. She can't work as much as she needs to and pay for childcare and all that shit. Someone told her that the father is responsible for helping to support the child and that's when she decided to file suit on my ass. Ain't that some fucked up shit, Jake?"

"I suppose you could look at it that way," Jake said. "But whether it's fucked up or not is irrelevant. Did Pauline set you up with a lawyer who deals with this sort of thing?"

Coop nodded. "She did," he said. "I'm supposed to meet with him tomorrow morning at ten o'clock."

"That's good," Jake said.

Coop was shaking his head in disbelief. "I still can't get over this, man," he said. "I've had me a couple thousand bitches in my time and never had a fuckin' rubber break or come off or had a bitch try to steal it or anything. And then the one time there's an accident — the one fucking time — the bitch gets knocked up. What are the fuckin' odds?"

Jake shrugged. "I'm sure Nerdly probably has exact figures on that, but I'd say about one in fourteen with all things being random."

"Is that all?" Coop said, appalled. "Doesn't being careful all these years count for nothin'?"

"Not when you're firing live sperm into a fertile womb without protection," Jake told him.

"Man," Coop said, slumping down again.

"I feel for you, man," Jake told him. "And I'm sure you're lawyer will be smart enough to tell you not to agree to anything before the results of the paternity test are in."

"Yeah, Pauline already told me that."

"So keep the faith. Maybe it's not really your kid after all."

"Yeah, maybe," Coop said, although he didn't look too hopeful about this.

"So anyway," Jake said, "what does all of this have to do with Darren and Charlie? I didn't quite catch what the connection was."

Coop looked at him as if he were an idiot. "The connection," he said, "is that I'm gonna be paying out twelve fucking grand a month for the next eighteen years."

"Assuming it's your kid," Jake said. "What about it?"

"What about it?" Coop said. "You guys are talking about going breach of contract and letting National sue us! You're talking about them taking all the money we already have away from us just because you and Matt both have to have your fuckin' way on this thing."

"I really don't think it will go that far, Coop," Jake said.

"If someone doesn't give in it will," Coop said. "You ain't gonna change your position and vote for Darren, are you?"

"No," Jake said. "I think that would be detrimental to the band and a big mistake. I've already put my views on this out on the table."

"The fuckin' table," Coop grunted miserably. "Matt's got his views out on that fuckin' table too. He wants Charlie gone and Darren back as much as you want the opposite. He'll never change his mind either. Both of you motherfuckers are willing to destroy this band and bankrupt us all just to prove who's got the biggest fucking dick!"

"Well... we've all seen each other's dicks before," Jake said, "and anyway, this issue is about much more than that. It's about what's best for the band."

"What's best for the band?" Coop said bitterly. "You think that destroying the band and bankrupting everyone in the process just because you two ego-fucking-maniacs can't come to an agreement on something is what's best for the band?"

Jake had to admit — somewhat guiltily — that Coop had a point there. Was this all about an internal power struggle that was transcending the issue in question? Wouldn't it be better for the band if Jake were to simply give in and allow Darren to return? Maybe. But wouldn't it also be much better for the band if Matt were the one to do that?

"Okay," Jake said slowly. "I will admit that you make a lot of sense on that one, but I'm afraid I'm not going to change my position if that's what you came here to try to convince me to do. Darren has used up all of his second chances. Charlie — as weird a motherfucker as he is — has proven himself to be the better choice. Matt feels he owes loyalty to Darren and I feel I owe it to Charlie."

"I know, man," Coop said. "I fuckin' know that. That leaves it to either me or Nerdly to break this fuckin' stalemate and keep us playing music and making money. Nerdly ain't willing to change his mind. I talked to him last night and he's as willing to go down with the ship as you and Matt are."

"Nerdly has a strong sense of what's right," Jake said.

"Yeah," Coop said, "and so do I. And what's right is keeping the band playing and getting our asses into that recording studio and out on tour. That's why I've decided to be the one to put an end to this shit."

"What do you mean?" Jake asked, although he had a pretty good idea. He prayed he was right.

He was. "I'm changing my vote," Coop said. "I'll vote to kick Darren out and keep Charlie. That'll put it four to two in your favor, Jake. I hate like hell to do something like this to Darren. You don't have any fucking idea how much doing this hurts, what kind of a fuckin' asshole I feel like — but I'm gonna do it."

Jake breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief. "You're sure about this, Coop?" he asked. "Have you really thought this thing through?"

Coop nodded. "I've been up all goddamn night thinking it through," he said. "Like I said, it's the right thing to do."

"Have you told Matt yet?"

"No," Coop said. "You're the first one I've told. I was kind of hoping you'd try to talk me out of it."

"Unfortunately, I can't do that," Jake said. "I think you're doing the right thing and I applaud you for the courage it took to change your mind on this."

"Yeah," Coop said sourly. "I get lots of fuckin' applause, don't I? But it ain't the applause that keeps me from going bankrupt, is it? It's making records and going out on tour."

Jake nodded in respect. Sometimes it was easy to think of Coop as just a dumb drummer, a marijuana addicted conspiracy theory freak with a borderline paranoid disorder. But every once in a while he came up with something pretty profound. "That's true, Coop," Jake told him. "That's very true."

"I need to tell Matt," Coop said. "And I need to tell him today — as soon as possible."

"Yeah," Jake said. "You'll need to do that."

"I want you to go with me."

Jake looked at him, his mind already trying to formulate excuses for why he couldn't or shouldn't be there for that conversation. He was unable to come up with even a single one. Slowly, he nodded. "All right," he said. "Why don't we have breakfast and then give him a call? We'll go over there before noon."

Matt was spending most of his days and nights these days at his rented Los Angeles penthouse instead of his mansion in San Juan Capistrano. This was primarily due to the loss of his driver's license and the fact that Buxfield Limousine Service — which the band held an endorsement contract with — could not drive him back and forth on the long trip on a daily basis. Jake and Coop, each in their own vehicles, pulled into the building's underground parking garage just before eleven o'clock that morning and parked. They got out and met near Jake's car. Silently, they walked to the elevators, both of them dreading the conversation they were about to embark upon.

Matt had said little when Jake had called him earlier and asked if he and Coop could come over. He had simply told them to be there at eleven and hung up. He hadn't sounded happy. When they knocked on his door he opened it, wearing a tattered pair of sweat pants and nothing else. He was smoking a cigarette and sipping from a bottle of beer.

"Come in," he told them, shutting the door behind them. He waved them to seats in the living room and then sat down in a leather recliner.

"How you doin', Matt?" Coop said softly, trying to break the ice a little.

Matt just glared at him. "Let's get to the meat of the matter here, why don't we?" he told Coop. "You're gonna sell Darren out, ain't you, Coop?"

Coop couldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I'm changing my vote to Charlie. I'm sorry, man, but I'm just doing what I think I have to do."

Matt looked up at the ceiling and took a deep drag of his smoke. He looked back down again and glared at Jake this time. "You fuckin' got to him, didn't you?" he said. "You called him up and kept picking at him and chipping away at him until you turned him against his two best friends in the world! Are you fucking proud of yourself, Jake? Did you come in your fuckin' panties when he finally agreed to go along with you?"

Jake said nothing but he didn't drop his eyes.

"Jake didn't talk me into anything," Coop said. "I didn't talk to him after our meeting yesterday until a few hours ago. By then, I'd already changed my mind."

"Right," Matt said. "Like I believe that. How did he talk you into it, Coop? Did he get you fucked up first? Or did he just use his little lawyer sister to start talking legal shit to you?"

"That's enough of that, Matt," Jake said. "Coop came to his decision on his own for reasons of his own."

"The fuck he did," Matt spat.

"Hey, fuck you!" Coop suddenly yelled. "I've been up all night agonizing over this shit! Jake didn't talk me into anything! He didn't talk to me at all, unlike you who fuckin' called up Nerdly and tried to get him to change his vote!"

Matt paled the slightest bit. Jake's eyes widened.

"What was that?" Jake asked.

"He called Nerdly up while I was over there talking to him last night," Coop said. "He spent fifteen fuckin' minutes trying to tell Nerdly how he should change his vote over to Darren to keep you from taking over the whole goddamn operation and turning us into some easy-fuckin'-listening band."

Jake looked at Matt, feeling some of his own anger starting to rise now. "Oh really?" he asked. "You called up Nerdly to get him to change his mind and then when Coop actually does change it — through no effort on my part — you start playing the fuckin' martyr to me? You're the biggest fuckin' hypocrite I've met since that asshole Frank Overland."

Matt stood up suddenly, falling back on his instincts now that he was cornered. "Don't be calling me no fucking hypocrite!" he yelled at Jake, pointing an angry finger at his chest. "I'll cram my fuckin' hand down your throat and rip your trachea out and shove it up your fuckin' ass!"

Jake continued to look at him placidly. "Are you done?" he finally asked.

Matt's face was red, his eyes bulging, but he didn't take another step forward.

"The decision is made, Matt," Jake said. "Are you going to abide by it?"

"Why the fuck should I?" he asked. "This shit ain't right! You guys know I'm the leader of this band and you just used a technicality to take my authority away from me. How am I supposed to keep band discipline after this? How are we supposed to get anything done?"

"By doing what we did on the last album," Jake said. "We go in that warehouse and we put our songs together and we record them. What's so hard about that?"

"What's so hard about it is I don't want to play with that faggot freak anymore!" Matt yelled. "He gives me the fuckin' creeps and I don't like him. I can keep Darren in line and I ain't afraid he's always looking at my crank in the shower!"

"You've never been able to keep Darren in line before," Jake pointed out.

"It's different this time," Matt insisted.

"It isn't different, Matt!" Jake shouted at him. "And why don't you admit that Darren isn't really the issue here. You just don't want to lose. You grew up a little rich boy who always got everything he ever wanted in life and then you became a rock star and had even more shit handed to you. Now you're so used to always getting your way that you just can't stand the thought that someone is going to overrule you on something."

"You're full of shit!" Matt yelled. "This issue is about who is control of this band! This is my band and I've always been the leader of it and now you're trying to take over."

"This isn't a goddamn sailing vessel, Matt," Jake told him. "We don't need a captain to tell everyone what to do. We've always made band decisions together, both musically and operationally. We let you call yourself a leader because you seem to have some need for that, but nobody has been really in charge since we left D Street West and you know it."

Matt was fuming. He picked up his pack of cigarettes off the coffee table and lit one up, this despite the fact that he still had one burning in the ashtray. "This is fucking bullshit!" he said. "Just a bunch of psychobabble bullshit."

"Call it what you want," Jake said, "but I'll ask you again: Are you going to abide by the decision the band has made or are you going to refuse to play anymore unless Darren is the bass player?"

"And what if I do refuse?" Matt asked.

"Don't make me say it, Matt," Jake pleaded. "We really don't need to go there."

"I'm going there," Matt said. "Tell me what you're gonna do if I tell you to fuck off on this shit, if I say I ain't playing a goddamn note with that dick-sucking freak."

Jake sighed. "Then you would be putting us in a very awkward position," he said. "In order to avoid a breach of contract charge we would be forced to fire you from the band."

Matt's fists clenched so hard and so fast that his cigarette snapped in two, sending a shower of sparks down to the carpeted floor. "Fire me from the band? Me? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"No, Matt, I'm not," Jake said. "Any member of this band can be removed by a majority vote. Once Darren is voted out — which is pretty much a formality at this point — that would leave me, Coop, Charlie, Nerdly, and you as voting members."

"I ain't voting Matt out of the fuckin' band," Coop said alarmed. "I'm sorry, Jake, but I can't go that far."

"You wouldn't have to, Coop," Jake told him. "Me, Nerdly, and Charlie would all vote for it. We wouldn't have any choice."

"Don't try to bluff me, Jake," Matt said. "You can't fire me from Intemperance. I'm the goddamn guitar player. There ain't no Intemperance without me. There's no way in hell anyone would take the band seriously without me on the lead guitar."

"I know that," Jake said. "If we were forced to do that, Intemperance would cease to exist. National wouldn't authorize another album even if we did find another guitar player, even if that guitar player was a good as you are — which would be doubtful at best."

"So why are you trying to threaten me with that shit if it can't happen?"

"It's not a threat," Jake said. "It can happen and it will happen if you try to go to the wall on this. We'll fire you and the band will break up. National will not be able to file a breach of contract suit that way since it will be them who is making the decision not to utilize our next option period and not us trying to refuse to perform. That way, no one will lose any of their royalties, no one will be sued by National, and there will be no revision back to the previous contract. A year will go by and all of us will be able to start solo careers if we want. If that's the way you want to play it, well... then that's the way it will be. I'm open for that if you feel you can't work with me anymore after this."

Matt looked like he had just been punched in the stomach. His face was pale and his hands were still clenched into angry fists of rage. "You would break up the band over this shit, Jake?" he asked. "Put an end to Intemperance just so you could keep Freakboy in?"

"Isn't that pretty much what you're talking about doing?" Jake asked. "Breaking up the band just so you could keep Darren in?"

Matt didn't want to acknowledge this. He took two steps forward, so he was less than three feet from where Jake was sitting. He stared into his eyes. "Look me in the eye and tell me you ain't bluffing on this," he said.

Jake looked him in the eye. "I'm not bluffing on this, Matt. Darren will be voted out of the band and if you do not go along with the decision, I will be forced to call for a vote to fire you. Intemperance will cease to exist and I'll go with a solo career in a year or so."

Matt apparently saw the message he was looking for in Jake's eyes — or the message he wasn't looking for. He shook his head angrily. "Fuckin' bullshit," he said. He walked back to the couch and sat down. Once again he pulled out a cigarette and sparked up. After taking a few quick, angry drags, he looked at his two bandmates. "Someone is going to have to tell Darren about this shit."

"Yeah," Jake agreed. "I suppose you're right."

"I'll do it," Coop said. "It was my vote that put him out, so I guess I should have the fucking balls to look him in the eye and tell him so."

"I should make you do it, Coop," Matt said. "I really should. He should be able to look at the guy who fuckin' betrayed him when he gets the news."

Neither Jake nor Coop said anything to this.

"I should, but I'm not going to," Matt said. "I'll tell him myself. He should hear it from a friend, you know?"

"You don't need to go quite so overboard on the guilt tripping, Matt," Jake said.

"Fuck off, Jake," Matt said. "You said what you had to say and you laid your fuckin' cards on the table and you made me fold. Now that you've done all that shit, just get the fuck out of my house. You ain't welcome here anymore. You too, Coop. Just get your sell-out, betraying asses out of here. I'll have someone call you when it's time to start hitting the warehouse."

Jake stood up. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Matt," he told him. "There wasn't anything personal about any of this."

"You're wrong about that, Jake," Matt told him. "This was about as personal as you could get. Now get out."

They got out, both of them feeling sick to their stomachs and stressed out worse than anything they'd ever experienced before.

Jake thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse. Shortly after pulling into his garage after returning from his visit to Matt, he found out he was wrong.

Elsa was standing there as he stepped out of his BMW. She looked concerned.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I tried to get hold of you, Mr. Kingsley," she said, "but I didn't know where you and Mr. Cooper had gone. I tried your sister's number and Mr. Cooper's number and Mr. Tisdale's number but Pauline was the only one to answer the phone and she didn't know where you were. I even tried the recording studio and that awful mannered man, Mr. Crow, but..."

Jake became frightened as he realized that Elsa was damn near babbling. Elsa was the last person in the world he would have thought capable of this behavior. "What's going on, Elsa?" he interrupted. "Why were you trying to get hold of me so bad?"

"It's Miss Brody," she said. "There's been some trouble at her house."

"What kind of trouble?" he asked. "Is she all right? Was it that freak that's been threatening her?"

"She's all right," Elsa said. "I talked to her myself just a few minutes ago." She considered for a second. "Physically, she's all right. I'm not so sure about her state of mind. She did not sound very good on the phone."

"Was she attacked?" Jake asked. "Did that fucking freak attack her?"

"The lady who has been threatening her was involved in some way," Elsa confirmed. "I don't know any of the details other than the attack was not successful and the woman in question has been arrested. Miss Brody wants you to call her at home as soon as you can. She said to let the machine pick up and then talk. Apparently the reporters are already trying to contact her about this."

Jake ran into the house and snatched up the first telephone he came to — in this case, the formal living room extension. He quickly dialed Helen's number from memory. It rang six times and the answering machine picked up. While it was still spewing out her curt, businesslike declaration that she couldn't come to the phone right now, Jake began to talk into the mouthpiece. "Helen, it's me. Pick up the phone."

There was a click, a whine of feedback, and then another click that cut off the feedback. Helen's voice, sounding weak and timid said, "Hi, Jake."

"Helen, are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm not hurt," she said softly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't home. I was out taking care of some business at Matt's house. Apparently Elsa called there but... well... Matt didn't answer the phone. What happened? She told me that freak tried to attack you."

"She didn't get a chance to try anything," Helen said. "The sheriff's department caught her before she could." She took a few deep breaths. "Jesus, Jake, that alarm system you made me install probably just saved my... just... just kept her from attacking me."

"What happened?" he asked. "Did she try to break into your house?"

"I was at the airport teaching a class," Helen said. "You know, the Introduction to the Principles of Flight class? I just got a load of new students last week and... and... anyway, I was teaching the class just like normal when our secretary came into the room and told me I had an important phone call. It was the alarm company that monitors my property. They told me that several of the motion sensors on the perimeter of the house had been tripped and wanted to know if anyone was home." The motion sensors in question were the best commercially available. They could be turned on and off by remote control from a quarter mile away and were capable of detecting anything weighing more than eighty pounds within a fifty foot radius around the house. A wrought iron fence that Jake had also had installed kept deer or large stray dogs from causing accidental activations.

"She was creeping around on your property?" Jake asked, feeling a shiver at the thought.

"Yeah," she answered. "But that's not all. I told the alarm company that nobody was supposed to be there and they told me they would send the sheriff's department over to investigate. A couple of deputies got to my house about ten minutes later and... and... Jesus." She took a few deep breaths again. "They found her — that Johansen bitch — hiding in the thick bushes right next to my garage door, right where I come out of the garage to walk to the house after I park my car."

"Fuck me," Jake whispered.

"Yeah," Helen grunted. "She was wearing camouflage fatigues and had camouflage make-up on her face. And she had a gun."

"A gun?" Jake said, feeling physically ill now.

"A thirty-eight revolver," Helen said. "And that's not all she had."

"It's not? What else?"

"She had a canvas bag with her," Helen said, her voice breaking on every word now. "Inside of it they found... they found..." She couldn't seem to go on.

"What did they find?" Jake asked gently.

He heard her swallow, heard her choke back a few tears. "She had... had... a pair of handcuffs in there along with a roll of duct tape, four butcher knives, and... and... a portable blow torch."

Jake's legs would no longer hold him up. He slumped down into the nearest chair and, for the first time in his life, had to put his head between his legs to keep from fainting.