Chapter Seven #3
He let out a quiet snort as we turned right on Mullholland.
I watched him check the nav system on the dash as he followed directions.
“I’m not meaning to make ya feel like shit, Rex.
It’s just ya a bit long in the tooth for this young boy.
Not that it’s an issue in my country. But you Yanks are a bit funny about that sort of thing. ”
I winced as his words hit home. The disparity in our age was the only thing I’d been wrestling with since meeting Cachi.
“You may be right, but I’m not so sure. And by the way, don’t call him a boy.
Or me a Yank. Cachi’s been a breadwinner since he was much younger.
He has no father and works two jobs to help care for his mama.
He lost his home and very nearly his life during Hurricane Maria.
After the storm passed and there was horrible floodin’, he rescued animals.
When the jobs on the island dried up, and it became too hard to live with his relatives, he and his mama came to the States.
I know he did it to make a better life for her. ”
Mars nodded. “Just the two of them?”
“Yeah, they live at her sister’s house with her and her husband. He’s workin’ two jobs so his mama don’t have to work so hard. He even gave up the dream of becomin’ a vet because of it.”
“A vet?”
“Veterinarian. Like I told ya, he adores animals.” I grinned as I thought of how he’d reacted to my girl. “You should’ve seen how he took to Lola and she loves him right back. You know he’s gotta be good if Lola loves him already. Animals can sense when a person is good or bad. You know that.”
“Of course, I know it, but if ‘is age is bothering you, Rex... And it sounds like Lola is picking up on ya vibes since she sees how crazy you are about ‘im. Animals, like, do that ya know.”
I did know, but he hadn’t seen them together. Lola had been relaxed and happy in his arms. “We’ll talk about this later.” I didn’t need him pointing Cachi’s age out to me even one more time. I pointed to his nav screen to change the subject. “This is the neighborhood. Let’s recon the area.”
He nodded, turning onto Roscomare Road and driving the length of it twice.
We noted the main gate which had a large guard shack.
A uniformed security officer stood in the doorway watching three big men unloading a huge truck parked on Roscomare, preparing to set up what appeared to be a valet stand.
I was relieved to note that Lincoln and Candy had been right about that.
They’d also been right about there being no commercial buildings for a decent perch anywhere in the vicinity.
I located a country club on the map, but when we drove by, there was no clear line of sight to the main gate.
We drove back down Roscomare. Four golf carts were already parked near the gate.
I looked around for a sniper perch. There were hills on the opposite side of the road which faced the gate, but from this vantage point, I couldn’t see any trees or even tall shrubs to hide a sniper up there. I pointed.
“Them hills might make a good perch if we can find some cover,” I said. “Drive up there and let’s get a better look at the view from height.”
Mars passed the guard gate one last time before getting into a left turn lane.
He made a turn onto a small, paved road called Stratford Circle, stopping at a sign which read: Getty View Park.
I grinned. Setting up in a park wasn’t ideal for many reasons, but a ghillie suit should hide me, even in daylight.
Mars drove into the park and up a hill, going as high as he could before the road hit a dead end.
He parked the car and we got out. I dragged in a huge gulp of fresh morning air, loving the scent of the hills at the break of dawn.
Birds chirped all around us and in the east, the sun was just now beginning to peek above the horizon.
“This way,” Mars said, breaking my reverie; I turned to see him striding into the brush.
I followed my friend, glad that I’d worn my heavy boots to work as he veered off the hiking trail.
We climbed as high as we could then stopped and looked around.
The sound of the 405 Freeway was a low hum and the view of the wide thoroughfare far below us was already busy with traffic, even on a Sunday.
We walked in the opposite direction of the freeway, until we could see Roscomare.
As I thought, there were no large trees or bushes up here, only lots of scrub brush and low-lying plants.
I absently wondered when the last major fire had come through here, suspecting it might’ve been the previous year when the Getty had been threatened by the large wildfire.
The Palisades fire had destroyed the majority of Pacific Palisades and a large part of Malibu including many iconic restaurants and businesses as well as residences.
The huge J. Paul Getty Museum on the west side of the freeway was easy to see from here and sat at a higher elevation than where we stood right now.
Mars pointed it out as he looked through binoculars.
He handed them to me, and I looked down at the men who were setting up the valet stand.
The fact that we were in an elevated position, far enough from the hiking trails which no doubt ran throughout the park and had a clear view of the valet stand’s location, was more than I could’ve asked for.
I handed the binocs back to my teammate and looked at the ground.
It was covered with stones and small brush, but I found a semi-level pad which would do.
“This is it,” I said to Mars.
“Agreed.” He rubbed both arms through his long-sleeved shirt. “Come on. I’m freezing my arse off. Let’s get a cuppa.”
I nodded, glanced one last time at the gate in the distance, and followed him back down to the car.