Don't Look Down Read online

  "Only if you tell me about Finnegan. I want to know everything."

  Wilder put the Jeep in gear and drove north. "Finnegan was IRA-"

  "Oh, hell." Lucy took a deep breath. "Sorry. Go on."

  "Then he went freelance and now the CIA thinks he's laundering money through the film."

  Lucy frowned. "So why don't they arrest him?"

  "They don't have any proof, and they don't know where he is."

  "Oh, just hell."

  "They told me Finnegan wasn't even in the country. So either that's wrong or they lied to me, and right now I'm kind of evenly split on which it is." Wilder shook his head. "But there's something wrong with their theory because Finnegan needs fifty million, which he's not going to get from the movie."

  "God, no. Nobody's going to get fifty million from this mess. What does he need it for?"

  "He owes it to the Russian mob. Or at least part of it."

  "The Russian mob?" Lucy said faintly.

  "Finnegan stole fifty million dollars worth of Pre-Columbian jade phallic symbols for a Russian mob boss named Letsky who thinks they cure impotence. Then he lost them. And somehow what Finnegan's doing with this movie is going to help him make amends with Let-sky."

  Lucy looked over at him, dumbfounded. "We're going through this hell because some Russian mob guy can't get it up?"

  Wilder thought about it. "Yeah."

  Lucy still seemed dazed. "Pre-Columbian what again?"

  "Jade phallic symbols. Basically, jade penises."

  "Oh." Lucy nodded. "This is probably not the time to ask this, but what the fuck is wrong with you map."

  "Uh…"

  "Nash is screwing everything that moves, Bryce is screwing everything that moves and asks for his autograph, LaFavre is screwing everything whether it moves or not, and now the Russian mob has hired Finnegan to make sure that-" She shook her head. "Even the Pre-Columbians had a dick fixation. What's next? Mother-of-pearl boobs?"

  Damn good thing she doesn't know about Ginnie, Wilder thought.

  "I just don't understand how you guys got control of the world," Lucy said. "Half the time there's no blood in your brains, and you're still in charge of most of the governments in the world, most of the companies, and all of the military." She blinked. "Which actually explains a lot, now that I think of it."

  Wilder glanced over. She was staring through the windshield. He decided to go the opposite of the sledgehammer and remain silent.

  They were passing the strip clubs that lined the road just before they hit the bridge and Georgia. The signs were old and worn, boasting totally nude entertainment, which was redundant to Wilder. He was sure LaFavre knew the interiors of all of them.

  Probably not the time to mention that to Lucy.

  Also, a good time to drop the CIA, Finnegan, and the Russians.

  No discussions about foster care, either.

  Nor anything about ex-wives.

  Fuck, Wilder thought. This is not good.

  They hit the ramp for the Talmadge and began climbing. To the left, coming upriver, was a cargo ship, the deck stacked with containers, a couple of tugs keeping it in the channel as it made its way to the port, to the right. That would be a good job. A simple job. Just keep a ship going in a straight line. No dealing with the CIA and Finnegan and whoever else was behind the scenes; he could do without all of them.

  He glanced over at the passenger seat.

  But not without Lucy.

  It was a strange thought, the idea that he could see a future with her, maybe not as clearly as she could, but a definite possibility once they'd had some time together. That's what he should have said. Crap. He was just no good with women.

  The two ex-wives were kind of a tip-off there, he supposed.

  They crossed over the bridge in silence and pulled into the crew hotel parking lot before she spoke again.

  "I think Stephanie took the rope."

  "From Bryce's cable rig?"

  Lucy nodded. "I think Nash sabotaged the rope and she took it to protect him or blackmail him or something. I sent her after the cable and when she brought it back the rope was gone, and I think she took it to use it to control him to save the movie. I think that's why he wrote her off. He wouldn't tolerate that." She shook her head. "We're not any brighter than you guys, when you get right down to it. Sex makes us all stupid. Love's even worse."

  That sunk in. "I'm sorry."

  "About what?"

  He shifted in his seat. "Nash and Stephanie."

  "That they were sleeping together?" She shook her head. "She could have him with my blessing. They deserve each other. But she didn't deserve this, and she didn't deserve to have him walk away from her like that." She looked over at Wilder. "I really want to bring him down. Him and Finnegan."

  "I'm working on it." Wilder got out of the Jeep.

  "How do you want to handle this?" Lucy asked.

  "What?" Damn, he was sounding like Crawford now.

  "Mary. What do we do?"

  Wilder paused. His experience in interrogation had been in places where people shot at each other and the bad guys didn't wear uniforms. Probably not the best tactics to use on Mary. "Uh, Good Cop, Bad Cop?"

  Lucy nodded. "Okay. Listen, I'm still really mad at you so I'll be the Bad Cop."

  Wilder opened his mouth to say something, but Lucy was already heading for the door.

  "Okay, then," he said and followed her in.

  The first person Lucy saw in the lobby of the crew hotel was Bryce, trying to sneak out.

  "I don't believe it," she told J.T. "I'm pretty sure he started the evening with Althea."

  "Well, at least we know Mary Vanity is here," J.T. said.

  "Bryce," Lucy called, and the actor jerked back so hard he almost levitated. Then he smiled weakly and waved at her. When she didn't wave back, he came over to join them.

  "Lucy," he said, trying to fake delight.

  "So how's Mary?" Lucy said, thinking, Is there any guy left in my life with blood in his brain?

  "Aw, Lucy," Bryce said. "You know-"

  "What I know," Lucy said severely, "is that Althea cares for you, that she's ready to settle down with somebody she loves, and that you're cheating on her. Now, what do you know?"

  Bryce blinked. "Settle down?"

  Lucy sighed. "Bryce, you could have the wedding America dreams about. Stop screwing around and think about Althea." When he still looked confused, she added, "Think about your career. Pick a magazine to do the exclusive on the wedding."

  "Oh." Bryce looked thoughtful. "I hadn't thought about the PR. I was just thinking about the effect on the box office. Could be bad."

  "So could discussion as to why you're thirty-seven and not married," Lucy said.

  "Oh," Bryce said, looking even more thoughtful, which was obviously a strain.

  "Stick with Althea," Lucy said.

  Bryce nodded without so much as a backward glance in the direction of Mary Vanity's room. "Thanks, Lucy. I'll-"

  "There's something else," Lucy said, and Bryce drew himself up, probably prepared to play the outraged star if she went too far. "Stephanie's been hurt," she said and watched him deflate. "She's in the hospital. She had an accident in Nash's van."

  "My God," he said, but she could see the wheels turning even while he looked shocked, concerned, and saddened, all appropriate emotions he could project at the drop of a hat. He took her hand. "You know, Stephanie loves this movie. She would want us to keep filming."

  Right, Lucy thought and took her hand back. "Do me a favor. Go back to the cast hotel and tell Althea and Rick when they wake up. You're the star, they'll want to hear it from you."

  She watched him expand again.

  "We're still shooting tonight, right?" he said. "I can tell them that?"

  "Yes," J.T. said.

  "I don't think so," Lucy said, ignoring him. "I'll know more later."

  "Well," Bryce said. "We should keep shooting." He stopped, as if not sure what to say next, and