Hoax

by Robert K. Tanenbaum

  “I don’t know,” the detective snarled, but then screamed again as Jojola sliced open his nose.

  “Please, could we do this in the kitchen on the tile,” Guma complained. “He’s bleeding all over a five-thousand-dollar Persian.”

  “Sorry,” Jojola apologized. “Now would you just tell me where Marlene is, or we’re going to have to go for your throat and that would ruin Mr. Guma’s carpet.”

  “I don’t know where they’re keeping her now,” Flanagan cried. “She’s with my partner and a couple of other guys. We were supposed to meet up in Central Park, behind the flower gardens off 106th Street…and bring the files.”

  “Why there?” Karp asked.

  Flanagan hesitated, then screamed again as Jojola stuck him in the shoulder. “Ah, Jesus help me,” he cried looking fearfully at the Indian.

  “I think you’re asking the wrong boss,” Jojola said. “You were working for the other guy. Now answer the question.”

  Flanagan blinked at him, blood flowing profusely, and turned to Karp. “The plan was take the files and then”—he looked at the knife—“…and then…it’s Inca Boyz territory. It was supposed to look like Garcia’s gang kidnapped the family and killed them.”

  “The family?” Karp said alarmed.

  “Yeah, that priest you mentioned…Lichner…he and some guys from the force are on the way to the hospital where they know your kid is,” he said. “They’re going to pick him up and your daughter and the other boy if they’re around, and take them to St. Patrick’s. Just in case, you pull something funny at the park. They’ll be brought over to the park later.”

  “You’d go along with killing three children?” Karp said.

  Flanagan looked down. “It’s to protect the church…from a bunch of Jews.”

  Guma returned with two towels from the kitchen where he’d gone. “Cover your ugly face and ear hole,” he said. “You’re making a mess.”

  “When were we supposed to arrive at Central Park?” Karp asked.

  “Ten,” Flanagan said. “You in one car, then me in mine to make sure we’re not followed. It goes down like that or they kill the woman and the kid.”

  Karp looked at his watch. Thirty minutes, he thought. He looked at Jojola. “Can you warn Lucy at the hospital; we’ll call Chip McIntyre on the way and get some cover over there. Make sure this scumbag doesn’t go anywhere.”

  Jojola nodded. “Get going.”

  “Get that, Father?” Guma said into the speaker of his telephone. There was no reply. “Guess we’re on our own.”

  “Uh-uh, I’m on my own,” Karp replied.

  “No way, paisan. One, you don’t get to have all the fun,” Guma replied. “Two, you need me. Detective Asshole here said they’d be expecting him driving the second car. He doesn’t show and the show is over before they raise the curtain.”

  Karp and Guma emptied the file boxes onto the living room table. Then Guma grabbed his raincoat off a coatrack and put it on.

  “You worried about getting wet? Karp asked.

  “No, just bringing a friend,” Guma said. “He reached inside the coat and brought out a double-barreled, sawed-off 10 gauge shotgun. The entire weapon was only fourteen inches long. “The great Sicilian equalizer,” he said. “Let’s go, I want to swing by your place first.”

  “Why? We’ve only got a half hour or less.”

  “Yeah, I know, but we’re going to need more muscle.”

  “Zak’s at the hospital.”

  “Ha, we probably could use him, too,” Guma laughed, “but I have someone a little older and more experienced in mind.”

  Karp nodded and they picked up the boxes and headed out the door. As they reached the elevator, they heard another scream.

  “I wonder what piece that was?” Guma said.

  “Think anybody will call the police?”

  “Are you kidding?” Guma replied. “The entire building is home to a bunch of wiseguys. There’s always somebody screaming.”

  • • •

  At Beth Israel hospital, Lucy was entertaining a drugged-up Giancarlo with stupid Zak tricks. But she was wondering why her parents were so late. Her mother had called more than an hour earlier to say she was taking a shower and then would be right down; her dad called a little later and said he was stopping by Ray Guma’s and would do the same.

  When the telephone in the room rang, she thought it must be them, calling to say they’d be right there. But it was Jojola.

  “Lucy, listen carefully,” he said. “Your mother’s been kidnapped and your father has gone to rescue her. But Lichner and some cops are on the way to the hospital to get Giancarlo and the rest of you. They want to take you to St. Patrick’s…and Lucy, they mean to kill you and the boys once they have your mother and father and the files. Your dad was going to call McIntyre, and I’m on my way, but I don’t think we’ll be there in time. You only have a few minutes.”

  Lucy hung up the telephone and went to look out the window. Four floors below, she saw the big priest followed by two cops and two paramedics wheeling a gurney. She looked at Giancarlo; he was in no condition to run anywhere. She took Zak aside and explained the situation to him.

  “We’ve got to hide,” she said.

  “No time,” Zak countered. “They’ll come looking.” He looked at his brother. “We need to switch places.”

  “What?”

  “Switch places. Then you hide with Giancarlo and they take me to St. Patrick’s.”

  Lucy shook her head. “I can’t let you do that. You take Giancarlo.”

  “You’re not making sense,” he told her. “They are looking for a boy. If they find one, they may not look for the two of you. Giancarlo’s blind, he doesn’t stand a chance. But if they don’t know that I can see—and that I’m not drugged up—I may get a chance to escape.”

  Lucy started crying and shook her head again. Zak reached out and took her hand. “Lucy, it’s our only chance. Now let’s get Giancarlo into the room next door and you guys stay there until these assholes are gone.”

  They half-carried, half-walked Giancarlo into the room next door. A dim light showed an old man lying on one of the beds, hooked up to a ventilator. “Hide in the bathroom,” Zak suggested.

  They placed Giancarlo on the toilet seat and Lucy turned to Zak. “I’ll come looking for you as soon as it’s safe to move him back to his bed,” she said. “In the meantime, take this.” She reached in her purse and pulled out a switchblade. “I believe this is yours.”

  Zak looked at her and smiled. “Luce, you’re a peach. I feel better already,” he said, flickering the blade in and out a few times.

  Then the elevator bell rang. Zak stood on his toes and kissed his sister. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Just don’t forget to come looking for me.”

  Zak ran next door, where he quickly got out of his clothes and into a hospital gown. He barely got into the bed when a large dark figure appeared in the doorway.

  “Here,” Lichner said. “There’s only one, but it vill have to do. Take him.” The men posing as paramedics wheeled the gurney in and hoisted Zak onto it.

  Next door, Lucy listened to the men take her brother with her hand over Giancarlo’s mouth. She waited a minute after she heard the elevator bell ring again and then took Giancarlo back to his room. “Stay here, honey,” she said. “Somebody will be back for you soon.” Then she ran out of the room.

  • • •

  Ten minutes later, Lucy stood in the shadows of the building across from St. Patrick’s. The ambulance that had brought her brother was parked on the dark east side of the cathedral. She figured the two men loitering on the sidewalk over there weren’t real paramedics, and she had no idea how she was going to get past them.

  Suddenly she was aware of an overpowering stench and the presence of a large dark figure next to her. Lichner! she thought in terror.

  “Evenink, Lucee Karp,” said the smell.

  “Booger!” she whispered happily. “What are
you doing here?”

  “He’s waiting for me,” said a familiar voice behind her. “Nice to see you again, Lucy.”

  “David, oh God, am I glad you’re here,” she said.

  “Really? I thought you did not care for deranged psycho killer demon hunters?” David Grale said.

  “Only when I don’t need one,” she replied with a shy smile. After all, she once had had a schoolgirl crush on that particular psycho killer. “And I need one now.” She looked up and was shocked to see how haggard and pale the once-handsome face had become; she thought he looked like paintings she’d seen of Rasputin, the mad Russian priest of the czars. “My brother’s been abducted by a priest who’s even crazier than you, only he’s as evil as they come.”

  Grale laughed. “Thanks for making the distinction. I have been hunting this particular demon for a long time, though I do not know his human name.”

  “Hans Lichner.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Grale said. “I have sort of a sixth sense for these fellows, you know, and I knew he was back in town. So I had my friends, like Todd Reedy here”—he pointed to Booger—“watching for him. Todd saw him and sent word.”

  “Todd?” Lucy said. “I didn’t know that was his name.”

  “Did you ever ask?” Grale said.

  “No, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t,” she acknowledged. “I’m sorry, Todd.”

  “S’okay, Lucee,” Todd the Booger replied. “Mutha fuckah isen side.” He pointed a large grimy finger at the cathedral.

  “Yes, the mother fucker’s inside,” Grale said. “The question is how do we join him with those two men standing almost on top of a secret entrance I know. We need a distraction. Think you can do it, Lucy?”

  “No way,” she replied. “I’m coming with you. That’s my brother in there.”

  “Very well,” Grale said. “How about you, Todd?”

  “Sure, Fatha, no problem,” Reedy replied.

  “Then give us enough time to circle the cathedral and come up behind them,” he said. “Wait until you see us, then do your thing.”

  Grale and Lucy emerged from the shadows and walked down the block until they were out of sight from the men next to the cathedral. They then crossed the street and walked rapidly down and around the building until they reached the southeast corner on Fifty-first Street.

  Seeing them, Booger walked up to the two men and held out his hand. “Want sometink to eat,” he demanded.

  “Holy Christ, this guy smells like he crawled out of the sewer,” one of the men swore. “Get lost, asshole.”

  Booger stomped his foot. “You da asshole…want sometink a eat now,” he yelled. He grabbed at one of the men, who backed up in horror, pulling a gun.

  “So much for unarmed paramedics,” Grale whispered. “Let’s go.” He led the way, sliding along the wall, staying low in the shrubs and ivy that grew on that side of the building.

  Booger began sneezing, spraying the two men.

  “Get the fuck away from me,” the first man shouted.

  “Don’t shoot him,” the other man warned. “Or every uniform in the area will come running. He wants money, give him some money.

  “Christ, anything to get that smell to go away,” the first man replied, reaching for his wallet as he waved the gun at the smiling Booger. “I’m not going to be able to handle eating for a week. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Meanwhile, Grale reached a place along the wall where he instructed Lucy to lie down while he cleared the ivy from the wall. He uncovered a stone that looked like part of the foundation and gave it a hard shove, freezing at the grating noise as it moved to reveal a dark hole. But the two men were still occupied with Booger. Grale and Lucy crawled inside.

  The passage led to an opening behind the organ. Peering out from behind, while Grale shoved the stone back into place, Lucy froze, horrified by what she saw. Her brother lay naked on the altar with Lichner standing above him, a large curved knife poised in his hand. Not knowing what else to do, she screamed as Grale rushed past her.

  • • •

  Lichner had decided not to wait until called to bring the boy to Central Park. It had been Kane’s idea to take the boy to St. Patrick’s, where Lichner had a key to the small side door that led into the sacristy. “The paramedics have a form signed by ‘Dr. Zacham’ asking that he be transferred because of technical difficulties in the surgery room,” he explained. “If anybody notices the boy is gone, they’ll never think to look for you at the cathedral. And if something goes wrong with my plan, you have my permission to…ummm…sacrifice him there.”

  Kane’s remark had planted the idea in Lichner’s mind. He decided he could always take the body to the park later; conducting a sacrifice in God’s house was simply too good an opportunity to pass up. He thought that God would even understand not waiting for a full moon. The priest was so consumed with the idea and sexually aroused that he had not noticed that his apparently drugged, unconscious victim had palmed a switchblade knife.

  Then the woman’s scream ruined the ambiance. As did the dark shadow man who was racing toward him. He’d never seen the man before but knew in an instant that he was the one who had been hunting him. Good, he thought, time for the hunter to be hunted. But as he started to move toward his opponent, he felt a sudden searing pain in his right thigh, near the groin. He looked down and was amazed to see a knife protruding from his leg and his victim scrambling to get off the altar. Roaring with pain and anger, he grabbed the boy by the neck and flung him down the steps leading to the altar, where he collapsed and lay still.

  Then Lichner turned to meet his hunter. Their blades met as they moved past one another, the steel ringing as both men grunted from the force. Slashing and stabbing, they circled, neither gaining an advantage until the priest stumbled slightly because of the earlier wound and then doubled over when the other man kicked him in the groin.

  Grale reached down and grabbed Lichner’s hair, pulling his head up and intending to slash across the giant’s throat. But Lucy yelled. “No, David, don’t kill him. Let Dad bring him to justice.”

  Ridiculous, he thought. Justice is here and now.

  But he’d hesitated just long enough for Lichner to recover. With a scream the giant stood and drove his blade deep into the midsection of Grale, lifting him off the ground. He kicked him off his blade and sent him sprawling. Smiling at the young woman, he bent down to pick up the boy. The sacrifice would go on, and then he would deal with the girl.

  Only this was to be a night of interruptions. A new voice shouted at him. “Let the boy go.” He looked up and saw a short, stocky brown man walking toward him, a blade also in his hand. “Come and get him.” He laughed, intending to cut the child’s throat. But again the little brat surprised him by twisting suddenly away.

  When Lichner looked up, the brown man was upon him and again he felt the searing pain. Only this time it was on the side of his head. In disbelief he put a hand there and felt the bloody stump of what had been his ear.

  “Who are you?” Lichner screamed, only this time in pain.

  “John Jojala,” the man replied. “Otherwise known as your worst nightmare.” The man’s blade swung again, so fast Lichner didn’t have time to react, and the fingers holding his knife fell to the floor, along with the blade.

  He looked up, his mouth forming a dark circle. But that was all, as Jojola’s blade rocketed up and caught him under his chin and pierced up into his brain. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  • • •

  At about the same time that Lichner’s soul was being dragged down into hell, Karp was staring his own death in the face.

  Arriving at the road that circled up behind the flower gardens, Karp was stopped by a man with a gun and a flashlight. “Up the hill,” he said. “Park when you get to the top and walk out on the grass.”

  Karp did as told and was getting out of the car when he saw the sedan that he hoped was being driven by Guma arrive and park behind him. T
he driver got out and whispered, “Good luck. Got your back.”

  Who’s got my front is what I’m worried about, Karp thought as he walked up to the top of the grassy knoll where he could just make out the figures of three men. When he was six feet away, he stopped. He recognized two of the men: Father O’Callahan and Detective Robert Leary.

  “I presume the files are in the car?” O’Callahan asked. He nodded to the third man, who walked in the direction of the cars.

  “Where’s my wife?”

  O’Callahan raised his hand. Thirty feet away, near the edge of the treeline, a flashlight was turned on. The beam illuminated a figure on her knees with her hands tied behind her back. She lifted her head.

  Marlene, hold on, baby, I’m coming. On the ride over, he’d thought a lot about how he was going to save her, not knowing if she was already dead. And he didn’t want to live if he lost her.

  So he had come, prepared to save her or die trying. He faced the two men as light rain began falling on them.

  Karp knew that as soon as the third man reached Guma, he would be out of time. He prepared to run for Marlene. Maybe it will distract them enough for her to get away.

  Then out of the bushes immediately to his right, there was a rustling and another man emerged and started walking toward them. “Wassup, homes,” the stranger said. “This is Inca Boyz territory.”

  Karp now recognized the form and voice of Pancho Ramirez. He also noted the teen was carrying a handgun.

  “Go away,” Leary said. “Police business.”

  “Yeah?” Pancho said. “And was it police business to kill my friend Francisco? And was it police business to stab my bro Alejandro?”

  “Who are you?” O’Callahan demanded.

  “Me? Oh, I’m just a nobody from the ’hood. But you’re on my turf, so I suggest you leave this man alone and let the woman go,” Pancho said as he came to a stop next to Karp.

  Leary reached into his windbreaker and pulled out a gun. “I don’t think so, punk.” He started to raise his gun but then several things happened at once. From the direction of Marlene and her captor, a man suddenly screamed. Then over by the cars a shotgun roared. Pancho pushed Karp aside and raised his gun at the same time Leary brought his to bear.