Virtually Dead

Chapter Twenty-Four

The sun fell in long wedges across the cream shag of the bedroom carpet, zigzagging in broken patterns over the rumpled sheets of the bed. Michael felt the warmth of it on his naked leg and turned over to see from the beside clock that it was after nine.

He almost fell out of bed. The world had already started turning. He was losing time. He hurried barefoot across the carpet to the sliding doors of his wardrobe and stopped, leaning against the wall, giddy, almost faint. He was feeling the effects of his ordeal the night before. And the two bottles of wine that he and Janey had managed to consume between them were doing nothing to ameliorate the pain in his head. But a toxic mix of fear and adrenalin was urging him on in the cold light of day.

He selected a fresh pair of jeans and a cream polo shirt, and pulled on a pair of brown leather deck shoes. No time for a shower. He quickly brushed his teeth and dragged a comb through his hair. For a moment he stopped to take in the view from his bedroom window, across the reflecting pool, to the island and the peninsula beyond. It was that light that he loved so much. So clear, so luminous. Palm trees never still, even in the gentlest of breezes that blew in off the sea. He really was going to miss this place. If he ever lived to miss anything again.

In the kitchen, he stopped at the phone and pulled Sherri’s number up from its memory. As it rang, he considered eating a cold slice of pizza from the box he had left untouched on the breakfast bar the night before. He flipped open the lid, and saw that there were only two slices left. For a moment he looked at it in puzzled astonishment. Surely he hadn’t eaten the rest and forgotten? And then realisation dawned. Those bastards who had abducted him the night before. They’d eaten his pizza! Somehow it only seemed to add insult to injury and puffed him up with indignation. Sherri saved him from an outpouring of profanity.

“Yes, Michael.” She had clearly seen that it was him from her caller ID and prepared her chilliest tone.

“Sherri, the house is mine. No mortgage. You get me three-and-a-half million for it by... ” He thought about it for a moment. “... by the time the banks close tonight, and I’ll give you fifteen percent.” If he at least had a promise of the money, surely they wouldn’t kill him?

He heard her excitement. “Can I have that in writing?”

“Twelve hours, Sherri.” And he hung up. He didn’t hold out much hope, but the more options he opened up, the better.

Hal Bender sat across the desk from Michael and cocked a quizzical eyebrow in his direction.

“Three and a quarter million, Michael? Are you insane?”

Michael looked at him with a mixture of hatred and disdain. Only desperation had brought him here. Bender worked from his opulent home high on the hillside above Newport. His study overlooked the harbour, the obligatory view for the richest residents of this wealthy Southern California town. And it was from those very residents that Bender had made his money, investing their wealth, sometimes wisely, sometimes not. But never to his disadvantage.

“It’s a pity Mora didn’t ask you the same when you persuaded her to take out that home loan.”

Bender pursed his lips. He had been Mora’s financial adviser through good times and bad. Mostly bad. Michael had removed her remaining investments from his control after her death, but today had forced himself to swallow his pride to make the drive up the hill. If anyone knew how to raise three million fast, it was Hal Bender.

“It was always a risky investment, Michael. If it had paid off, it would have paid out big. Borrowing against the house was the only way she could raise the cash. And she was a bit desperate by then. In the end, it was her decision, not mine.”

Michael bit back a retort.

“What do you want it for?”

“To pay off a debt.”

Bender smiled. “Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul?”

“Something like that.”

“How do things stand with the house?”

“It’s mine. Good for collateral.”

Bender raised his eyebrow again. This time in surprise. But if he was wondering how Michael had managed to pay off the loan, he wasn’t going to ask. “When do you need it by?”

“Tonight.”

This time both eyebrows pushed themselves up his forehead. “You’re kidding!”

“I’ve never been more serious.”

Bender shook his head. “I could probably get you the three and a quarter. But not by tonight. If you want that kind of money that fast you’re going to have to go to people who don’t ask too many questions. People who will charge you so much interest that you’ll be in debt before the ink is even dry on the contract. People who will take your house off you without a qualm the minute the capital repayment is due, and take your kneecaps when you can’t pay the interest.”

Michael’s mouth was so dry he found it hard to swallow. “So how would I get in touch with people like that?”

“Jesus, Michael, what kind of trouble are you in?

“Let’s just say it’s a matter of life and death. Literally.” He paused, and the two men eyed each other in cautious silence. “So?”

“So what?”

“So how do I get in touch with people like that?”

Bender almost laughed, but in the end it came out more like a gasp. He shook his head. “Michael, I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Michael walked down the steps from Bender’s front door through a lush, semitropical garden and waited for the electronic buzz that would unlock the gate. The sun was rising now in the palest of blue skies, and he felt the heat of it on his skin. For a moment he closed his eyes, and when he opened them saw a black Lincoln saloon parked on the other side of the street. Two dark-suited gentlemen were making no attempt to conceal the fact that they were watching him. The driver smiled, raised his hand at the open window and gave him a small wave. His passenger puffed on a cigarette and fixed Michael in his gaze with dark, passive eyes.

Michael turned away, fear tightening across his chest, like the onset of cardiac arrest. It appeared they did not intend letting him out of their sight until the transfer was made. He walked to his SUV on legs that trembled beneath him and climbed into the driver’s seat. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. It had become only too painfully clear to him that he was not going to be able to raise the money in time.

The only alternative was to try to find out who really killed Smitts, and why.