It was nearing ten when we pulled up to the curb in Lyle’s late-model Buick, which he parked about a block away from the building. The street was empty, quiet.
We three got out of the car without a word.
With the deep cloud cover, the night was black as wet ink, the darkness broken only by lights from within the houses, as well as from some of the apartments overlooking the street.
As we neared the building’s front entrance, Gloria pointed up at the row of lighted windows. “But which one is Maddox’s?”
Barnes indicated a sign next to the entry door.
“Building manager’s in Number One. A Mr. Abrams. Why don’t we wake the poor bastard up and ask him?”
After a series of knocks, the door of Number One opened to reveal a smallish, balding older man in pajamas. Taking a step across the threshold, his sour face registered his annoyance at the intrusion. Until Gloria flashed her Bureau ID.
“Are you the manager? Special Agent Gloria Reese, FBI.”
He started, then drew himself up and rubbed his eyes.
“Yes, Officer?…I mean, Agent…?”
“We’re looking for a man named Sebastian Maddox. Though he may not be using that name. He’s forty-ish but looks younger. Shaved head, muscular frame. Does he rent a place here?”
Abrams squinted. “I think you mean Mr. Mudgett. Herman Mudgett. He’s in Number Four.”
Barnes gave a sour laugh. “That’s him. Mudgett was the real name of H.H. Holmes.”
“Who?”
Gloria sighed. “One of the first documented serial killers. Over a hundred years ago. Another of Maddox’s inside jokes.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Guy’s a million laughs.”
Abrams rubbed his brow. “What? I don’t understand…Look, I don’t want any trouble. Truth is, I haven’t seen Mr. Mudgett since he took the apartment.”
“And when was that?”
“Two months ago. But he paid me in advance for three.”
Gloria turned to Barnes. “Two months…according to his parole officer, that’s when he was released from Buckville.”
The building manager stared. “Buckville? The prison…?”
“I commend you, Mr. Abrams,” said Barnes. “Not many people would rent a place to a convicted felon.”
“But…but I didn’t know. Like I said, I never see him. I haven’t even been inside the apartment since he…Oh, my God…”
He suddenly looked pretty shaky on his feet.
“Just give me the master key.” Gloria held out her hand. Abrams gulped nervously, disappeared for a moment into his apartment, then returned with the key. Pocketing it, Gloria used her palm to push Abrams back inside the door.
“Stay inside, okay, Mr. Abrams? And don’t come out.”
The little man quickly shut the door.
We took the elevator to the second floor, where apartments Three and Four were located. As we approached Maddox’s door at the end of the narrow, wallpapered hallway, Barnes and Gloria each drew their weapons.
Once again, as the sole current Bureau agent, Gloria did the honors, pounding on the door.
“FBI, Maddox. Open up, then step back, hands on your head.”
Nothing. Not a sound from the other side of the door.
She knocked again, announced herself again, and waited. Two-handing her weapon, chest high. Behind her, Barnes held his gun in his good hand, barrel pointing up at the ceiling.
After another long pause without a response, Gloria took out the master key and unlocked the door. Using her foot, she slowly and cautiously pushed it open. Gloria entered first, followed by Barnes, and then me.
To my surprise, the small, wood-paneled entranceway was well-lit by an overhead lamp. As we made our way into the main living area, we were met with another surprise.
“I guess these places are rented unfurnished,” Barnes said dryly. “Unless Maddox has really simple tastes.”
Still brandishing her weapon, Gloria went down the hall to her left. Moments later, she reported that the bedroom and bath were in the same inexplicable condition.
The room we stood in—like the rest of the apartment—was completely empty. No furniture, no TV or radio, not a single table or lamp. The only illumination in the square, carpeted living area came from a high-wattage ceiling light.
Completely empty, that is, except for a laptop computer, its lid open, sitting on the carpet in the middle of the room.
The computer screen was blank.
Barnes sniffed. “What the hell—?”
He took a few steps into the room, toward the laptop. Suddenly its screen lit up, flickering to life.
“Shit,” Gloria gasped.
“Must be motion-activated.” Barnes froze where he stood. “I was a damned fool not to think of that.”
I took a step closer myself and peered down at the screen. It revealed a live-streaming image of Sebastian Maddox, his smiling face taking up the entire frame.
When he spoke, he pitched his voice to sound like a parody of a pompous TV announcer. Deep and self-important.
“Lady and gentlemen, LIVE from somewhere else, it’s me!”
Barnes practically spat. “Christ!”
Maddox laughed, and resumed his usual mocking tone.
“You guys look surprised. I mean, sure, the apartment’s a bit Spartan. In fact, I bet you were expecting something really dramatic. Like pictures of Barbara plastered all over the walls. Maybe even a little shrine to her memory, complete with candles and incense. If so, you’ve seen way too many movies.”
I kept my own voice even. “Listen, Maddox…”
But his face had grown serious, almost stern. “Do you really think I’d do something like that, Danny? Something so obvious, so gauche? What Barbara and I had was rare and fine. And real. Or was, until you bewitched her away from me.”
I didn’t bite. “Cut the crap, Maddox. Where the hell are you?”
He sat back from the camera lens, thick arms crossed on his bare chest. “At a secure, undisclosed location. As they say.”
Gloria spoke up. “But we tracked the transmission signal from your drone to this place.”
“Of course you did. I figured even those brainless losers you call tech support would latch onto that signal sooner or later. So I re-routed it from my actual location to this charming building in Swissvale. A kid I knew in grade school lived just down the block. I used to steal his lunch money.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re a real bad-ass.”
“Got you and the Scooby Gang running in circles, don’t I? By the way, how’s Angie? I mean, she’s only your third cousin or something, so maybe you don’t care that much. But she looked pretty bad last time I saw her. Kind of on the dead side.”
I didn’t answer. Wouldn’t.
Then, abruptly, his tone changed. Sharpened. “But here’s the thing, guys. I thought I made it quite clear what would happen if one of you alerted the authorities. But Special Agent Reese had to keep her tech friends at the Bureau on my ass. Tracking the signal from my drone. Which I think any judge in the land would consider a breach of our verbal contract.”
Gloria went white, panic edging her words. “But, wait! You re-routed the signal. Got us up to this empty apartment. I admit you outsmarted us, Maddox. We still don’t know where you are.”
He shook his head mournfully. “Not good enough, Gloria. I mean, it’s the principle of the thing. I told you to keep law enforcement out of it and you didn’t…”
“But—!”
“Oh, good. Here it is.” He glanced over at something beside him. “I’ve been watching the local news. Figured the story would break any minute now…”
Barnes growled. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Maddox merely smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll patch it right in for y
ou.”
Suddenly, his face disappeared from the screen, to be replaced by a live broadcast from one of the local news stations. It showed a sleepy side street, now clustered with police units, EMTs and an ambulance. A zippered body bag was being lifted from a gurney into the back of the M.E.’s wagon.
A graphic along the bottom of the screen read: “Breaking News. Drive-By Shooting in Blawnox.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Gloria lean back against a wall, head in her hands. But I couldn’t tear my gaze from the screen, even though I knew what was coming.
“According to police,” the on-scene reporter told his viewers, “a local Blawnox man was shot and killed while eating dinner with his family in their home. Witnesses report that a car with blackened windows came down the street and stopped in front of the man’s house. Then the driver, holding a handgun of some kind, leaned out and fired twice into the dining room window. The victim, Howard Lister, forty-five, a husband and father of two, was pronounced dead at the scene.”
Then the image from the TV station vanished, and Maddox appeared once more. Reflectively stroking his chin.
“So that’s who I shot.” As though to himself. “I didn’t know his name. I just picked a house at random, saw the happy family eating dinner, and squeezed off a couple.”
His eyes glinted out at us from the screen.
“Poor Howard. Never even got dessert. And bear in mind, his death is on you guys. We had an understanding, and…Well, if you do it again, I won’t be responsible for what happens. How many more innocent people will pay the price.”
The bastard actually smiled.
Suddenly, with a growl of frustration and rage, Lyle Barnes raised his Glock and pointed it at the screen. “Fuck this.”
Gloria whirled to face him. “Lyle! No!”
He didn’t even turn his head to reply. “I can’t take this goddam shit anymore.” He took a further step toward the laptop. “Hear me, Maddox? You hear me? Die, you son of a bitch! Die!”
Before either Gloria or I could stop him, Barnes fired, the booming sound echoing like thunder in the small room. The laptop screen exploded into pieces, as the force of the shot knocked the computer back. Until, hopping across the carpet, it slammed up against the far wall.
I grabbed at Barnes’ gun arm, pushed it down.
“Jesus Christ, Lyle! He might’ve told us something. Named his next target—”
His jaw set. “That prick wasn’t gonna tell us anything. Not now. Not tonight.”
Gloria turned as well to confront him, her face livid.
“How the hell do you know that, old man? From all your years on the job, which you keep throwing in my face? Or maybe you’re just losing your shit, since you haven’t slept a wink since this nightmare started. Face it, Barnes! You fucked up!”
The stark silence that followed seemed almost as deafening as the gunshot.
Finally, shoving his Glock in his belt, Barnes strode out of the room. Gloria and I exchanged chagrined looks, and then followed him down the hall.
None of us said much on the drive back to the safe house. I could tell that Gloria was consumed with guilt about the death of Howard Lister. I also knew enough to give her the space to process it in her own way, and in her own time. Until she’d come to realize where the blame for Maddox’s horrific crime actually lay.
Then there was Barnes’ impulsive, frustration-driven reaction. Blasting apart the laptop. Given Maddox’s fragile narcissism, his self-appointed grandiosity, I feared he’d be unable to resist a further retaliation of some kind.
I was right.
l l l l l
It wasn’t until we’d turned onto the side street in Wilkinsburg that we saw the flashing lights of the fire trucks and police units. They formed a grim semi-circle, facing what had once been the deserted movie theater.
As we drew closer, I could see the blasted, smoking remains of the abandoned building. Most of its walls had collapsed, behind which danced a few small licks of flame. Firefighters in protective gear, wielding hoses, sprayed powerful streams of water at these last active fires in the charred structure.
Gazing out the window, Gloria could only manage a stunned whisper. “Holy shit…”
Barnes pulled to the curb a good hundred yards from the scene and we scrambled out. As we headed toward the fire line and the various clusters of first responders, I noticed that both my Mustang and Gloria’s hatchback were parked far enough down the block to have been spared any damage.
The acrid smell of black smoke, hissing metal, and smoldering wood hit my nostrils as we approached. At first glance, it appeared that the entire above-ground structure had been flattened. More significantly, a huge, crater-like hole revealed severe damage to the FBI’s abandoned facility beneath.
“Maddox.” This murmured word was the first one Barnes had uttered since we’d left Swissvale.
A tall black man turned at our approach, his weary features reflected in the glow of the flashing lights. He wore the same protective gear as everyone else from his fire company, but without the hard hat. His name tag read “Capt. Morris T. Welch.”
Before he could question us, Gloria flashed her badge.
“We were just passing by,” she explained, “pursuant to a local case, when we saw the trucks and cruisers.”
Welch nodded at the three of us, then indicated the growing throng of people being held behind a police line. Neighbors from the block, I figured, many armed with cell phones whose cameras were directed at the smoking debris.
“Gawkers shootin’ video to sell to the news channels,” the captain said. “Or to put up on YouTube. People like that really tick me off.”
I nodded. “I can imagine, Captain. Any idea what happened? Anybody see anything?”
“Well, right now we just want to keep this thing contained. Which is pretty much done, far as I can see. I’ll know more when my guys down in those underground rooms report back. Gotta make sure they’re no dead or wounded down there.”
For the first time, Welch seemed to register Barnes’ arm sling. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, bringing a hasty response from the ex-agent.
“Fell down chasing a perp last week.” Barnes offered a sheepish smile. “I think I’m getting too old for this job.”
Welch smiled back, though his look remained guarded. “You and me both, mister.”
Quickly, Gloria reframed my question. “Any witnesses?”
“Just one. Guy across the street was out walkin’ his dog, said he saw somethin’ come outta the sky and fly right into the theater. Looked like a big bug with headlights for eyes.”
She spoke carefully. “Sounds like a drone to me.”
“That’s what we figger, too. Won’t know for sure till the tech guys show up, but my money’s on some kinda drone packed with explosives. C-4 or somethin’ like that.”
Welch had no sooner finished speaking when a camera truck from KDKA-TV came rumbling down the street, stopping right behind the crowd of chattering bystanders.
“Great.” Welch heaved a sigh. “My favorite part o’ the job. Dealin’ with the media.”
Gloria gave him an encouraging pat on the arm. “Then we better get out of your way and leave you to it.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
As we walked away, Gloria turned to Barnes.
“You know what this was, right, Lyle? Payback for what you did in Swissvale, shooting up Maddox’s laptop in the middle of his taunting victory speech. A guy with that ego? It’s like he’s saying, you screw with me, I’ll do the same to you.”
“Maybe. But how the hell did he know where the safe house was? And that we’d been using it?”
“Who knows?” Gloria’s anger grew. “We’re just lucky we weren’t inside when it happened. We could’ve been killed.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I
’m sure you’re right about Maddox sending that drone in response to what happened in the apartment. But I also think he timed it so that it would strike before we got back.”
By then, we’d reached Barnes’ car. I leaned against it.
“Remember, he’s spent a long time planning his revenge on me. Seeking out victims close to me. Building up to the last act: my own death. There’s no way he won’t want to be there in person to see it.”
Barnes stroked his chin. “I think you’re right, Doc. Killing all three of us, long-distance?…It just doesn’t fit.”
I turned to Gloria. “Are you okay? I mean, about that man getting shot? Remember, his death is on Maddox, not you.”
“I know.” Her chin lowered. “But still, it’s hard…”
Then, rubbing her eyes, she looked up. Let out a long breath, and gave Barnes and me a brave smile. Letting us know she’d be all right.
And I knew she would be. As much as anyone could.
l l l l l
Still standing by Barnes’ car, we discussed where we might set up what he called our next command post.
“Maybe a tugboat out on the Allegheny?” I suggested, only half-kidding. “Or a hot air balloon?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a chain motel,” Barnes said. “I’m staying in one now. Out past GreenTree.”
“God knows what it’s like.” Gloria folded her arms. “I got dibs on the room without the bedbugs.”
He regarded her. “I’m frugal, Gloria, but not unhygienic. Besides, how long are you going to stay mad at me?”
“I haven’t decided yet. But at least you finally called me ‘Gloria.’”
His eyes gleamed mischievously. “Old profiler trick. Seek rapport with your adversary. Build intimacy and trust.”
“No kidding? Well, you’ve still got a ways to go, buddy.”
He shrugged. “In the meantime, we still have a problem. Both of your computers were down in the safe house. They’re probably toast.”
Head Wounds Page 21