John Locke - Wish List

“Is she insane?”

“What?”

“Is she insane like me?”

I cupped her chin in my hand and looked into her tupelo honey-colored eyes. “You’re not insane, Rachel. You’re just wise in ways other people don’t get.”

“But you do.”

“I do.”

“And that’s why you love me.”

“It is.”

“So this guy’s wife. Why can’t he keep her safe?”

“He’s been kidnapped. But before that happened, he called me and said someone might try to kill his wife.”

Rachel said, “Maybe you should take care of all that first, and then we can go somewhere together.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

I knew Rachel wouldn’t leave her apartment. She was months away from being travel ready. But it’s important for her to know that I’ll always take care of her, whether she’s with me on the road, or with Nadine in her million dollar penthouse.

We chatted a while longer, and then I left. After crossing the street I turned and looked for her in the window. She waved to me and I blew her a kiss. I continued standing where I was on the sidewalk, watching her in the window, and would have remained there an hour, had she continued to look at me.

The building that housed Rachel’s penthouse apartment was actually a private hospital, though Rachel wasn’t a patient. In fact, the nurses and psychiatrists who worked in the lower building were unaware she was receiving treatment. For all they knew, Rachel was Nadine’s granddaughter, and they were living together, sharing the penthouse. So Rachel’s “treatment” was unofficial, and I’m the one who set it up. I did so after learning Rachel killed a guy in Florida during our vacation. I thought it wise to get her out of the state as soon as possible and get Nadine involved, instead of the cops. So I used a portion of the funds I’d given Rachel to purchase an income-producing private hospital, where she could be quietly cared for by my former psychiatrist.

From her window, Rachel smiled and waved at me again. I gave her a full bow, and performed a little dance step. I’m a dreadful dancer, and my effort made her laugh.

Rachel had been here nearly four months, and shamefully, this was only my third visit. Each time I came she expressed an interest in leaving with me, and I always offered to take her. In the end, she always backed down.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I retrieved it and smiled. With nothing more to go on than the caller ID, I knew who was behind Wish List:

My former associate, Victor.

This was going to be very interesting.

Rachel was still watching me from the window, so I waved again.

One day I’ll show up and she’ll be ready to run off on another wild adventure with me. Traveling with the moody, homicidal Rachel has its ups and downs. On the upside, she’s incredibly sensual and tons of fun. On the down side, her violent mood swings are explosive, and could lead to murder. Still, no one’s perfect, and I enjoy her company more than any other woman I’ve known, which probably tells you something about me.

Up in the window, Rachel blew me a final kiss and closed the curtains. I stood there a moment longer, thinking about all the ways Rachel understands me that other women don’t.

Take sex, for instance.

Rachel instinctively knows what type of sex I like: Frequent sex.

Chapter 11

“Have you…killed her?”

The voice on the other end of the line was tinny and labored, and came from a computer-generated voice program that belonged to Victor, the quadriplegic billionaire midget I’d worked with and killed for, several times.

“Killed who?” I said.

“Who…do you…think? Jinny…Kidwell.”

“Is Hugo with you?” I asked. Of course he was. Hugo was always with Victor.

“I’ll…put him on…speaker…phone.” Victor said.

“Good. We can cover more ground that way.”

Hugo said, “What’s your interest in Buddy Pancake?”

Victor and Hugo are megalomaniacal midgets bent on world conquest. Victor is the brains and financier, Hugo is the general of their international army of little people. If Victor was involved, Wish List was another of his “Social Experiments.” It was vintage Victor, granting desperate people four wishes, and then pulling the rug out from under them. A few years ago I’d been involved with another of Victor’s social experiments. He’d been offering financially-strapped people a hundred thousand dollars if they agreed to let him kill a criminal who had never paid for his crime. Of course, in Victor’s mind, by taking the money they’d become accessories. It was my job to assassinate them. I didn’t get very far before my conscience got the better of me. Considering the magnitude of evil they’ve unleashed upon the world, Victor and Hugo have somehow managed to keep—pardon the pun—a low profile in the criminal world.

“Must I repeat the question?” Hugo said.

“My interest in Buddy Pancake? I want to save his life.”

“Why?”

“I owe his sister.”

“Who’s his sister?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is Jinny Kidwell alive?”

“How would I know?”

“What are your plans for her?

“What makes you think I even know her?”

Hugo sighed. “Our cameras picked you up in Buddy’s garage. If you know about Buddy you know about Wish List. If you know about Wish List you know about his connection to Jinny Kidwell. Early this morning we learned that Jinny Kidwell was missing from her trailer. That means someone snuck past ten highly-trained perimeter guards and removed her from the premises without making a sound, something no one on earth could have managed. Except you.”

“You consider those guys highly-trained?”

“It’s what I was led to believe. In any event, what are your plans with regard to Ms. Kidwell?”

“I’m going to exchange her for Buddy.”

“Easily done. Is she alive?”

“Is he?”

“At the moment, I believe he is.”

“When last I saw her, Jinny was alive as well.”

“Where is she?”

“Where’s Buddy?”

“Look, Mr. Creed. Jinny is one of the highest profile people in the world. If she remains missing, or dies, there will be endless media coverage. Victor’s plans could be compromised.”

“If you can’t handle the pressure, you shouldn’t have accepted Jinny’s wishes.”

“You don’t understand. We’re trying to save her life.”

“I fail to see how paying Buddy Pancake a million dollars for a roll in the hay could possibly save her life.”

“That’s the payment she had to make to stay alive. And a damn small one, I think you’ll agree.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s kept it quiet for months, but she’s got an incurable disease.”

“And you’ve got an antidote?”

“We do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s one dose.”

“What, you can’t make more?”

“The chemist died in an accident. His formula died with him. Our people have spent the past ten months trying to analyze it a drop at a time. We’ve made progress, but we’re years away. Unfortunately, the serum breaks down over time, and when that happens the components can’t be analyzed. The shelf life is short, less than a year, and we’re closing in on that deadline. We’ve done all we can, but it’s over. We can’t duplicate or replace it. But we can save Jinny’s life. She’s had three injections, but needs one more, and she needs it today, if possible. Bottom line, there’s only enough serum left for one dose.”

“And you promised it to Jinny?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s the disease?”

He paused. “I can’t tell you.”