Oct. 25th
According to the police report, this man worked for her for three years. Then one morning he was found floating facedown in the ocean not far from the Santa Monica pier. His throat had been ripped out. The coronerI spoke to him myselfwas never able to determine the type of weapon. The last person to see him alive was Miss Perne.
I don't think she killed him. I like to think she didn'tthe more I have studied her, the more I have come to admire her cunning and stealth. But perhaps this man learned things about her she didn't want known, and she had him killed. Certainly, she has the resources to hire whomever she pleases. When I meet with her I must ask her about her gardener. It will be another thing I can use as abargaining chip. And I have decided I will see her soon. I have broken off all contact with Mr. Slim. In my last fax I told him that I was not able to verify any of my earlier claims about Miss Perne's personal wealth. I have since changed my fax number, so I do not know if Mr. Slim has tried to contact me again. I imagine he is not happy with me, but I am not going to lose any sleep over it.
How much should I ask from Miss Perne? A million sounds like a nice round number. I have no doubt she'll pay it to keep me quiet. What I could do with that much money. But in truth, I don't think I'll touch it. I'll just give it to Ray when he's old enough.
I will arm myself when I meet with her, just in case. But I am not worried.
That was his last entry. I am happy I have deleted the file in the computer. If the police had such information on me, they wouldn't leave me alone. It might not be a bad idea to burn down the entire office building, I muse. It wouldn't be hard to arrange. Yet such an act might draw Mr. Slim's attention to peaceful Mayfair. To young and pretty Alisa Perne.
Yet Mr. Riley was a fool to think Mr. Slim stopped watching him just because he changed his fax number. I am quite sure Slim observed him all the closer, and now that the detective has disappeared, Slim and company might even be in the neighborhood. Slim clearly has a lot of money at his disposal, and therefore a lot of power.
Yet I am confident in my own power, and I resent this unseen person shadowing me. I hold the Swiss fax number in my memory, and I contemplate what I would say to this fellow should I meet him face to face. I know that my message would be short because I do not think I would let him live long.
But I do not forget that Slim knows how dangerous I am.
That does not necessarily mean he knows I am a vampire, but it is worrisome.
I turn to my fax machine and press the On button.
Dear Mr. Slim,
This is Alisa Perne. I understand you have hired a certain Mr. Michael Riley to investigate me. I know you haven't heard from him in a whileI don't know what could have happened to himso I thought I would contact you directly. I am prepared to meet with you, Mr. Slim, in person, and discuss whatever is on your mind.
Yours Truly, Alisa
I attach my personal fax number and send the message. Then I wait.
I do not have to wait long. Ten minutes later a brief, and to the point, fax rolls out of my machine.
Dear Alisa, Where would you like to meet and when? I am available tonight.
Sincerely, Mr. Slim
Yes, I think, as I read the message, Slim and company are probably close by, the Swiss number notwithstanding. I figure the message went to Europe and was then sent back herenearby. I type in my return message.
Dear Mr. Slim,
Meet me at the end of Water Cove Pier in one hour. Come alone. Agreed?
Again, ten minutes later.
Dear Alisa, Agreed.
6
The pier is a half hour from my house, in the town of Water Cove, twenty miles south of Mayfair. I arm myself before I leave the house: a snub-nosed forty-five in the pocket of my black leather coat; another smaller pistol in my right boot; a razor-sharp knife strapped inside my left boot. I am handy with a knife; I can hit a moving target a hundred yards away with a flick of my wrist. I do not believe Slim will come alone, knowing how dangerous I am. Yet he will have to bring a small army to contend with me.
I leave immediately. I want to arrive before Slim does. And I do. The pier is deserted as I cruise by in my black Ferrari. I park two blocks down from the pier and climb out. My hearing is alert. I can hear the bolt of a rifle being pulled back from over a mile away. Slim would have to come at least that close to try to assassinate me outright, and that is a possibility I consider. But all is calm, all is quiet. I walk briskly toward the end of the pier. I have chosen the meeting place for two reasons. Slim will only be able to approach me from one direction. Also, if he does arrive with overwhelming odds, then I should be able to escape by diving into the water. I can swim out a mile along the bottom of the ocean before having to surface. My confidence is high. And why shouldn't it be? In five thousand years I have never met my match.
Almost to the hour of our agreement to meet, a long white limousine pulls up to the entrance to the pier. A man and a woman climb out of the back. The man wears a black leather coat, a dark tie, a white shirt, smart black trousers. He is approximately forty-five and has the look of a hardened Navy Seal or CIA agent: the short crew cut, the bulging muscles, the quick shifting eyes. I see that his eyes are green even from two hundred yards away. His face is tan, deeply lined from the sun. There is at least one gun in his coat, possibly two.
The woman is ten years younger, an attractive brunette. She is dressed entirely in black. Her coat is bulky, as are her hidden guns. She has at least one fully automatic weapon on her. Her skin is creamy white, the line of her mouth set and hard. Her legs are long, her muscles toned. She may be an expert in karate or some such discipline. Her mind is easy to
read. She has a nasty job to do and she is going to do it right. Her promised reward is great.
Yet it is clear the man is the leader. His smile is straight and thin lipped, more chilling than the girl's frown. This is Slim, I know.
Four blocks down the street I can hear another limousine parked, its engine idling. I cannot see the second carit is hidden behind a buildingbut I am able to match the sound of the engines. The cars could hold maybe ten people each, I estimate. In all the odds might be twenty to one against me.
The man and the woman walk toward me without speaking. I consider escaping over the side of the pier. But I hesitate because I am a predator first and foremost; I hate to run. Also, my curiosity is high. Who are these characters and what do they want with me? Yet if they reach for their weapons, I will jump. I will be gone in the flick of an eye. It is clear to me that neither of these approaching creatures is anything but mortal.