Chapter 3

Al spoke with Rona in his office once a week for two months running, and it was exactly three days after the Friday he had spent with Ella Montefusco that he knew Rona was set to make another big buy. She had, against his express orders, left San Francisco that weekend, and he knew she had gone south of the border.

Monday morning, having cleared his calendar, he paid a direct visit to Rona Everson's home. She lived in the Nob Hill area, and once again had a bevy of servants at her beck and call.

Rona, dressed in a blue negligee, met with Al in what was termed the receiving room, and Al said to her, "Let's stop playing games, Miss Everson. I know you left San Francisco this weekend."

"Oh?" Rona asked, her hand going to her throat.

"I warned you what would happen if you tried anything like this. What you've done is a violation of parole. If it can be proved that you had anything to do with drugs, they'll put you inside forever this time, throwing away the key."

"Come with me," she insisted, and led him to a private theater-like room in the house. It had a lot of sofas in it instead of theater seats, and there was a huge projection video screen set up against the far wall.

Looking at the walls, Al realized the room had been soundproofed so that whatever it was Rona chose to watch on her projection-video screen would not be heard beyond this room. She turned on the screen after slipping a cassette into one of the new six hour tape recorders. She showed Al all kinds of statistics concerning crime and how most of it in the area was committed by junkies.

Rona told him it was her mission in life to help these poor wretches, easing their misery, and at the same time preventing them from hurting others, since it was the victims of their crimes who were hurt in the long run.

"Miss Everson," he told her when she had finished. "I don't think you understand. What you're doing is making things not only easier for known junkies, but some of the stuff you supply goes to turning young kids into hopheads, as well. I have to insist that you stop this at once, and in addition, turn over the name and location of the man you buy your stuff from so he may be apprehended.

"Mr. Bombannente, I don't know who or what you think you are, but you do not control my life. You will not tell me what to do, nor will I allow you to interfere with what is my mission in life."

"One call from me, and you'll be back behind prison walls," he admonished.

"Maybe," she nodded, "but my work will go on." Yet she shuddered.

"Why? Because you'll sign over your money to someone else whom you think will continue this rotten practice for you? I'll have the state lock up your fortune and keep it locked away until you die in prison, and the money will then either go to your legal heirs, or be donated to some charity. No, Miss Everson, you are definitely a danger that has to be stopped. I've had men trailing you this weekend. Pretty soon I'll know just where in Mexico you went, and when I do, I'll sever that connection completely. In the meanwhile I'll have you tossed back into the slammer."

"No!" Rona gasped. "Look, I'll stop this. Don't you see, this isn't all I'm doing. I also have homes set up for unwed mothers. I'm doing a lot of good and you mustn't interfere."

"Miss Everson, for every bit of good you're doing, you're doing twice as much harm. Even if you were to stop your dope dealing now, I think we should stop this fooling around and send you back to prison where you'll be safe."

"No!" Rona gasped, her lovely face a mask of horrified emotion. "I was bluffing, before. I don't want to go back there. I'll do anything at all. I'll stop dealing dope, I'll give you the names of the people who have sold it to me and where to locate them."

"It's much more than that," Al told her. "You claim to have a religious calling, but quite frankly I think it's some devil speaking to you rather than God. You claim to be chaste in the name of your beliefs, and yet in your chastity you have performed more evil and you have done greater harm than any prostitute I know. I'm not one to tell you to give up your belief in God. By all means, go on and prove you're worthy of God by doing good rather than evil. But for the love of heaven, woman, you have to learn there are times when you simply cannot have your way because you claim you heard some mystic voice tell you to do whatever it is you want to do."

"But it's true!" Rona gasped. "I swear it!"

"No!" Al snapped at her. "It's not true. I'm as God-fearing as any man, but I'm going to prove it isn't true by going against the so-called wrath of what you believe to be the deity that spoke to you."

"What do you mean?" Rona asked.

"I mean I'm going to have you commit a sexual act!" he replied.

"I refuse to sleep with you!" she gasped, standing upright.

"Sleep with me?" he laughed. "Don't be silly. That would be too easy. You would like it so much, you'd start whoring and claim you had a religious experience. No way, honey. What I'm going to do is teach you that when I give you an order, you will obey."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I'm going to order you to undress, come over here, get down on your knees, and suck my cock."

"Mr. Bombannente! That's utterly disgusting! You leave here this moment or I'll ring for the servants and have them inform your superiors just what it is you expected me to do."

"Go right ahead," Al said, sitting on one of the sofas, smiling at her. "Ring for a servant and make whatever claim you wish. I've already informed my office that I came here today because I suspect you've been violating your parole. Now if the people I've had following you are called on to testify, it'll prove violation, and as far as the court will be concerned, your claim concerning me will look like an attempt to discredit me. All this will do will be to get you in more hot water than you're in, right now. So you go ahead and call your servant."