Jackie's Week Read Free Page B

Black and her brother and
it had failed. She had stupidly trusted them and risked her life by
returning to the apartment. The police had failed. Hiding had
failed. She knew exactly what this meant. She was going to die.
    She was certain of one thing. She would never
allow herself to be attacked by that man again. She would kill
herself first. She eyed the box cutter and looked at her wrist. The
phone rang in the kitchen. No point in answering. Not anymore. On
the fourth ring, the machine picked up.
    "Jackie, pick up the phone," the machine
squawked. Johnson. The cop handling her case. "C’mon, Jackie. I
know you’re in there. Pick it up. Jackie ... Jackie. Okay, then
listen. I think we busted the guy we have been looking for. He was
booked in last night. It is urgent you call me. You know my number.
If you don’t call me back I’m coming straight over and I’m coming
in to get you."
    "Oh my God," Jackie said aloud to the empty
room. Johnson knew every detail of the attack. Especially the part
about being penetrated with the foreign object. Somehow, his gruff
congeniality had kept her from feeling emotionally naked, but
whenever she pondered this, she sometimes felt in her heart of
hearts he must think of her as a terrible loser.
    She put down the razor, picked up the phone
and hit the speed dial, her heart pounding right through her chest.
First, she would call Johnson. Then she would call Donna for a ride
to the police station.
     
    Chapter 5
     
    Johnson hunched over the folder and extracted
a photo lineup of six different ugly male faces and slid it across
the table to Jackie. She smoothed her hair out of her eyes and
crossed her slim quick legs, taking a deep breath before looking at
it. They were sitting in a room by themselves upstairs at the Van
Nuys police station.
    The third photo from the left made her want
to scream. She could almost hear him. The only four words he had
ever spoken to her. Vzjat’ na abordaž. She’d never forget that, or
the pleasure she remembered registering across his face when he
landed on top of her in the parking lot of the best supermarket in
Encino.
    She looked up and locked eyes with Johnson, a
heavyset, middle-aged Norwegian type with a broad intelligent face,
dead blue eyes, thinning gray hair and a large mustache, with a
demeanor ranging from boyishly disarming to warrior fierce,
depending on the occasion.
    "Obviously you recognize somebody," he
said.
    "Oh yeh."
    "Any doubts?"
    "No." Jackie hunched forward as a flashback
attempted to force its way into her head. With some effort, she
somehow remained in the present. A wave of dizziness washed over
her as her entire body began to sweat.
    "You’re starting to hyperventilate. Breathe
deep and slow," Johnson said, standing behind her, taking her head
between his strong hands. "Keep doing that and you’ll be okay."
    After a moment, Jackie’s head cleared and she
managed to fumble in her purse, pulling out a small water bottle
filled with vodka which she greedily chugged. "I need a Rolaids,"
she said. She knew Johnson lived on them. He pulled out two thick
round pills from his shirt pocket. She chewed them gratefully, and
swallowed a little more vodka.
    "A morning drink is one of the ten signs of
alcoholism," he said.
    "There’s only ten?"
    "It’s okay," Johnson said. "You’re doing
fine. Better than most, in fact. Now all I need for you to do is
put your finger on the man you recognize."
    Jackie complied. Her nervous system had gone
awry, and she felt like the picture burned her finger when she
touched it.
    "So who is he?" she said. Her voice sounded
to her as though she was speaking from the bottom of a well. She
took another sip of vodka.
    "His name is Viktor Bout."
    There. The man finally had a name. Something
she could hate with all the venom her body possessed. "Viktor
Bout."
    Their eyes met and locked. "What the hell
kind of name is that?"
    "Ukrainian," Johnson said.
    "Oh my God! Where is he?"
    "We have him."
    "How did you