"No, friend!" she whistles. "This is no movie prop."
Like Gustavo, she takes care not to directly touch it. Lavonne scoots her chair closer to her window to let natural layers of light strike the cut of the gemstones.
"What is it a replica of?" Gustavo asks.
"Honey, it is no replica either."
"What part is real?"
"All of it."
Chills surge up Gustavo's back and arms.
"Real gold?" he asks, referring to the hooded cobra.
"Real gold, real silver, real diamonds. Platinum, emeralds, and rubies. This doesn't belong in a duffel bag. It could be something you would find in the Tower of London alongside the Thames River patrolled by royal bodyguards."
Gustavo, speechless, searches Lavonne's face for any signs of doubt or humor. He agrees to let her photograph it and holds it at various angles to help her capture details.
"I will share these images with you," Lavonne says.
"What is it?" Gustavo asks. "If really priceless, no one would dare use it for walking."
"It was not created for use. Think of it as a staff. A symbol of love. A family treasure. A compilation of wealth stored inside a piece of art."
"I am too shocked to think clearly."
"I know you well enough to trust, without any doubt, that you will do the right thing," Lavonne declares.
"What is the right thing?" Gustavo asks.
"Only you can answer that. You are the finder. It is your burden."
"Lavonne, I did not find it. This was given to me by the man who was collapsing in the park. I did not ask for it."
"But you took it."
"From a dying man!"
"When you calm, I believe you will awaken the strength to handle this situation, Gustavo."
"What would you do if you were in my shoes?"
"I would challenge myself to not panic," Lavonne says. "You did nothing wrong. But you must be clever. Something like this just does not vanish. Who knows who is hunting for it as we speak. The easiest solution may not be the best one for you."
"My instincts are to skip the police station," Gustavo says. "Maybe something higher. Police headquarters downtown. The FBI. My congresswoman or senator. I guarantee you that as financially strained as I am at this moment, I am not going to enrich myself from something that does not belong to me."
"I know that about you already."
Lavonne nods her head, smiles, and hugs her friend.
"Thank you for believing in me," Gustavo says.
"I will help you with some research later today after my appointments," Lavonne says. "Maybe I can find the staff online or learn something. If the only words the man said were Wanda and cobra, then there is not much to go on. But don't fear that I will say anything to anyone. I won't dare. You should consider keeping this to yourself too, at least until you decide what path to take."
"You are my only true friend here in California. No one is going to give me better advice."
"What do you need?" Lavonne asks. "Err on the prudent side and consider that the jeep you spotted this morning is the same one that chased you last night. Don't return home yet. Think about getting out of Los Angeles for awhile."
"I cannot figure out how the jeep followed me home through Mulholland Drive," Gustavo says. "I was incredibly careful."
"Assume there is a tracking device on your car."
"The man would have had to affix it while it sat in the police station parking lot. Is that likely?"
"For this-worth money beyond imagination-you bet he would have stopped at nothing. Forget your car for the moment. Use apps on your phone to get shared rides."
Gustavo does not respond. He sinks his face into the palms of his hands and shudders. Lavonne steps into her bedroom and closes the door. She emerges a few minutes later as Gustavo is repacking the box inside his duffel bag.
"Accept this," Lavonne commands, extending a large wad of twenty and hundred dollar bills toward him.
"No, Lavonne. Just loan me a hundred bucks so I can get down to Laguna Beach or Anaheim, or out to Las Vegas, to stay with friends."
"You must take all of it. Consider me a patron today. Or repay me when you can. This is no time to be worrying about money. I want you thinking about your safety and making the best decisions."
16
Flight
Zachary reaches Nathaniel by phone as Aleksey finds food and drink for a late breakfast in the Oakland International Airport.
"I cannot tell what caliber we are dealing with here based on that Douglas character," Nathaniel says, upon hearing the details of Zachary's encounter. "He sounds like a bit of an amateur. Or a trainee. The men he supposedly called could have just been a bluff and the guy with you in the elevator could have been a weirdo. People are so freaking strange I find it difficult to assign rationality to them most of the time."
"Aleksey and I are about to catch a flight," Zachary replies. "Can you alert the other men and women sued? The fighters?"
"Yes, consider it done."
"I am glad you remembered that the league was Cobra something or other. A foreign word or phrase. People had trouble remembering it, much less spelling it. I thought it essentially dried up after the lawsuits were revoked."
"No, Zach, these organizations come and go but the people behind the scenes keep spewing up and posing new dangers. I will check around and let you know what else I find."
Nathaniel asks for Zachary's best guess when his location was compromised. Zachary mentions the bikers on the ferry who also traveled up Russian Hill, but shared his hesitation to really consider the bikers suspicious. Zachary emphasizes that he and Aleksey first noticed Douglas when he was in the Grand Vestige Hotel forecourt, emerging from a taxi there prior to their arrival on foot after being at Grace Cathedral and Huntington Park on Nob Hill.
"Have you considered that Douglas was not really an operative at all?" Nathaniel asks. "After he was spotted cruising you, and winning your attention, the real pursuer could have paid him a hefty sum he could not refuse in order to temporarily pin you down in that hotel room until backup arrived."
"Maybe," Zachary answers. "Let's not rule out anything."
"My point is that you are being hunted and you do not really know who to look out for. Forget the Douglas guy. I will send someone over to that hotel convention to dig deeper. I doubt you will ever see Douglas again, but that does not mean a chase is not well underway."
"Point taken, Nate. There may not even be a convention there of television and cable producers."
"I am going to take additional actions for myself too. Based on all of our precautions with the helicopter and your journey here, my head tells me my own location has not been compromised. But, still, I have to follow my heart, which worries that this scheme includes all of us."
Aleksey returns to the airport gate with their breakfast. Zachary shares Nathaniel's recollections and warnings, including his theory that Douglas was hired on the spot to lure and trap him.
"It is true that a real pro should not have let you escape," Aleksey adds. "But people underestimate you to their own peril."
"Didn't you check the gun before dumping it?" Zachary asks.
"Of course I did."
"Do you think it likely that Douglas just forgot to load some bullets in it?
"No, but I don't like jumping to any conclusions. It doesn't mean he wasn't-or isn't-extremely dangerous."
By the time their plane lands at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada, Aleksey and Zachary have researched the Cobra de Capello fighting league and identified the blond woman in Sky Beacon Lounge as Wanda Barrone. Zachary gets settled in a rental condominium complex in Henderson, set above a village-like community of restaurants, shops, and boutiques, and gives Aleksey the rest of the day and night off.
Aleksey walks a mile through residential neighborhoods, leaps a yard wall, and climbs through an unlocked window at the back of the house. Two calico cats slink toward him, purring with motor-like hums as he pets their heads and bodies.
Aleksey bathes with steaming hot water, slides under the covers in the master bedroom, and texts his boyfriend, Rafael.
"A naked dude is in your bed," he writes. "Hurry home for this slut or he might start banging your neighbors."
17
Vegas
In San Bernardino, east of Los Angeles, Gustavo lunches at a diner before switching to another shared ride. He is dunking pieces of sour dough bread in tomato soup, while surfing search engines online, when his phone rings.
"I just left the observatory and Griffith Park," Lavonne says. "I found the exact area on the trail you described, but there is nothing there. No body. No phone. No blood or scraps of clothing or anything else indicating a violent attack."
"Not even a button or a shoe?" Gustavo asks. "No clues at all?"
"I filmed a short clip of the area and I will send it to your phone. I got on my hands and knees, Gustavo. There is nothing there."
"Thank you for trying. I wonder if the park staff already found and removed the body before you got there."