“You’re kidding, right? ‘Blue Suede Shoes’? ‘Love Me Tender’? ‘Anyway You Wa—’”
Ron stepped between the two, waving his hands. “For crying out loud, people. This isn’t American Bandstand. Just let Mack pray for you.”
Jesse crossed his arms. “Sorry, won’t work.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mack sighed. “I don’t know it by heart anyway.”
Ron asked, “I don’t suppose anyone has a Bible here?”
“A chaplain has to say it,” Jesse muttered, glancing around the room. “Or a pastor. Someone official like that. Or it won’t work.”
Kyle stepped forward. “I’m a pastor.”
“You are?” several voices asked in unison.
Ron grimaced again. Kyle’s cover was blown, but what was the point? Now Kyle could come in handy, so he asked, “Kyle, you know it?”
“I do.”
“The whole thing?” Jesse asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re really a pastor?” Wiz asked. He turned to Jesse. “Surely that’s got to be some sort of sign.”
Jesse started pacing again. “I guess this could work. If you say the whole thing, you know, it would … He’s got that special connection with God. He’s like a priority caller.”
“Jesse,” Mack said, “You don’t have to be a pastor to have Gods ear.”
“Trust me,” Jesse said. “I don’t have a direct connection.” He looked at Kyle then at everyone else. “This is never going to work. Why would he do that? Leave town without telling me?”
Jesse eyed the jumpsuited Elvis picture and punched his fist into his hand while Dozer searched for someplace to hide the other Elvis. He attempted to hand it to Wiz, but Wiz refused it.
“Jesse, calm down,” Dozer said. “I don’t see the problem. They’re both pastors.”
“Okay, maybe. Yeah, technically, it should work.” He glanced around the room. “If you guys could give us some privacy, there are a few things I need to confess first.”
Kyle’s pastoral expression faded. “Confess?”
“My sins,” Jesse whispered.
“No, that’s okay. I don’t need to know.”
“I have to confess everything I’ve done wrong before the prayer will work.”
“No, you don’t.” For the first time, Kyle seemed adamant about something.
“Yes, I do.”
“This is ridiculous,” Ron snapped. “Jesse, Kyle said he’s willing to pray this prayer, okay? Don’t push it with details.”
“These aren’t details. If I don’t confess my sins, the prayer won’t work.”
“Your sins are forgiven by God through Jesus Christ,” Mack said. “Not because you’re brave enough to tell them to a pastor.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Jesse said to her. “You don’t have any sins, do you?”
“I’m sinning right now.”
“You are?” Wiz asked, his expression growing curious.
“Yes,” Jesse said, gesturing toward Mack. “Can’t you tell? She’s raised her voice a little. Stand back. Lightning might strike.”
Mack’s face turned red, and she snapped, “Is there any possibility of getting you to shut up?” Then she slumped. “I’m really sorry. I just have a lot of anger toward you. You don’t deserve to be talked to that way.”
Dozer smiled. “I don’t know about that.”
“Shut up, Dozer,” Jesse said.
“You shut up. Can’t you see you’re making her sin?”
Mack held up her hands. “It’s not his problem. It’s mine. Jesus was surrounded by irritating people all the time, but he managed to keep his cool.”
Jesse glared at her. “I’m irritating?”
“And unbelievably defensive, but again, I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry.” She looked at Kyle. “I apologize.”
“It’s okay, Mack,” Kyle said gently.
“Why does she get to confess?” Jesse asked.
Ron stepped up. “Look, here’s how it’s going to go down. Jesse, you’re going to sit on the couch. We’re going to gather around and Kyle will pray for all of us so we can get on with this thing.” No one moved. “Well, what are you waiting for? The Second Coming? Let’s go.”
Jesse knocked knuckles with jumpsuit Elvis, then took a bullet out of his pocket and rubbed it between his hands before joining Kyle on the couch.
“Let’s just get this over with.” Jesse sighed.
“Um, all right, let’s all just … bow our heads and … Okay, Lord, we come to you today and ask that—”
“That’s not how he does it,” Jesse interrupted. “He just says the Bible part.”
“Oh … sure. Um, go ahead and bow your heads again, and I’ll just … okay … um …” Kyle took a deep breath. “‘He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the—’”
A loud banging sound shattered the prayer. Ron reached for his gun. Everyone scrambled, trying to locate the source of the sound.
They found it. Ruth was peering through their front window.
“What’s going on in there?” she shouted. “A séance?”
Chapter 24
Kyle walked toward Jesse and Dozer, balancing a cardboard tray of coffees. He set the tray down on the car.
“You got a triple shot in here, right?” Dozer asked.
“And decaf for me,” Kyle nodded. “Didn’t think I needed any help with the jitters.”
“This is where the arrest team will be stationed—a couple blocks from the bar. They’re really just here for backup. We have to catch this guy when he comes to the shop to sell his goods. But they’re there if we need them. Ron, Mack, and Wiz are setting up surveillance on the fourth floor of that hospital right now.”
“But you’ll be in the bar with me, right?” Kyle asked Jesse for the fourteenth time.
“I’ll go in before you. We can’t be seen coming inside at the same time. We’re new faces in there. It’ll be up to you to watch the door to see if he comes in or is already there. I’ll head in around eight. You’ll go in around eight fifteen. We don’t talk or look at each other until you call me over.”
“What if he checks Kyle for a microphone?” Hank asked.
Jesse turned, surprised. Hank had a knack for listening without anyone noticing he was there. “It’s a public place. He won’t check him. Besides, I’ll be wearing the wire.”
“So now what do we do?” Hank asked.
“Wait.”
Kyle sighed. “I’d love to, but I gotta deliver the rest of the coffees.” Ron could do nothing but watch through an office window as the two men argued. One of the men was a Mr. Collins, the assistant director of the hospital. He’d assured Ron that the fourth-floor room would be available. The second man, the one raising a stink, gestured with one hand as he pushed up his glasses with the other.
The office door finally opened, and the two men walked out. Neither looked pleased. “Sergeant Yeager, this is Dr. Gil Shapel. He’s the director of our psychiatric unit.”
“What’s that got to do with us?” Ron asked.
“A pipeline burst—” Mr. Collins began, but Dr. Shapel cut him off.
“The fourth-floor room you need belongs to us. We use it occasionally for special events. Our recreational room is flooded, and there is no other space available. We need it tonight.”
“But—”
“We have recreation from precisely 7:45 p.m. to 9:15 p.m.,” Dr. Shapel continued. “Our patients look forward to it every day. It’s a reward for them. It can’t be missed.”
“I don’t see a problem. Well be set up by the window and won’t take up any space.”
“I realize you’re speaking out of ignorance, Sergeant Yeager, but the fact is, your presence could cause some real problems.”
Ron turned to face Mr. Collins. “The operation is already in motion.”
“I am sure we can work this out.” He looked Dr. Shapel squarely in the face. “These officers are wi
lling to comply with what you need in order to get what they need.”
Dr. Shapel eyed Ron, then Mack and Wiz. “Fine. But you’re going to have to abide by my rules so we don’t create any problems for the patients.”
“I don’t think we’ll be a bother,” said Ron.
“Yes, well, you don’t live in my world, where things can get ‘bothered’ rather quickly.”
“Dr. Shapel,” Mr. Collins said, “why don’t you escort the officers up to the fourth floor? They can show you what they need and you can tell them all about those rules.”
Ron, Mack, and Wiz stared silently at the dark walls of the elevator.
“Is this thing working?” Ron asked.
“Some of our patients have a fear of heights,” answered Dr. Shapel. “This elevator is specifically designed to minimize all sense of movement. We don’t want them to think they’re leaving the ground level. That’s also why we have heavy blinds on the third-floor windows and why we’re putting them in now on the fourth floor. You’ll have to work around that. Harold doesn’t do so well when he gets a glimpse outside.”
“What about the claustrophobics?” Ron asked.
Wiz and Mack smiled, but Dr. Shapel didn’t look amused. He gestured toward the black elevator doors. “Some of our patients hate to see their reflections. We ban the use of mirrors or anything that could provide a reflection. Including windows.”
Ron could feel Wiz breathing deeply beside him, like he might be instantaneously transforming into a claustrophobic. Thankfully, the elevator doors opened. Dr. Shapel guided them down the hall past orderlies who were moving tables and chairs into the previously empty room.
“Where do you want to set up?”
Ron opened the blinds to the middle window, then looked out the two left windows. “Here,” Ron said. “This will give us the view we need.” He turned to Dr. Shapel. “We’ll just need a table and a couple of chairs.”
“Fine. We can supply that. But you have to keep the blinds lowered. You can peek through them, but we can’t have them opened.”
“Okay. Is that it?”
Dr. Shapel looked amused. “Harold isn’t the only patient with special needs. If you’re going to be in my hospital, then you’re going to have to comply with my rules.”
Mack took out a pad and pen.
“All right. What do we need to do?”
“It’s more about what you need to not do.”
“Certainly, Dr. Shapel. We’ll do our best,” Mack said.
“You’ll need to talk in a quiet, reserved voice. Many of our patients suffer from sensory overload. You need to be aware of Ned. Whatever you do, don’t give Ned anything to drink. Not even a small cup of water.”
“How will we know Ned?”
“You’ll know.”
Wiz sucked in a breath. “What happens if he drinks water?”
“He thinks he becomes intoxicated. It’s not pleasant. Martha will also be here. Martha is one of our most unusual patients.”
“Oh …” So what is Ned? Normal? Ron started to feel like Wiz looked.
“Martha has a phobia of certain words. It is imperative that you do not say the following.” Dr. Shapel turned to Mack. “Nest. Cranberry. Telephone. Hair. Vacuum. Nostril. Humidifier. Canteen. Walrus.” Dr. Shapel paused. “We work very, very hard to make recreational hours pleasant and rewarding for our patients, so whatever you do, avoid unnecessary commotion and do not, under any circumstance, make any sudden movements that might be distracting or induce anxiety.”
Wiz whispered to Mack, “For us or for them?”
“In other words, don’t do anything weird,” the doctor continued.
“Of course,” Ron said. “We’ll set up the equipment before they get here, and we’ll be respectful of your rules.”
“I’ll be in my office, but I don’t like to be disturbed.” He turned and walked off toward the elevators.
“He doesn’t like to be disturbed? What’s he doing in this business then?” Wiz said with a snort.
Mack closed her notebook. “I feel sorry for them,” she said, gazing at the empty room as if it were filled with people. “I wonder if they get many visitors.”
“You can worry about that on your day off, Hazard,” Ron said. “Right now, we’ve got to focus.”
The elevator doors swooshed open, and Kyle appeared, walking quickly toward them with a tray full of coffees.
“Thanks,” Mack said, taking her green tea. Kyle handed Wiz his latte. Ron took his coffee black, no sugar, no cream. Ron still didn’t understand the lure of lattes and green teas. In the old days, guys stayed up with thick, black coffee. Twenty years ago, a latte would’ve earned you a nickname you couldn’t repeat in public.
“You okay, Kyle?” Ron asked.
“Yeah … fine. I accidentally got off on the third floor and ran into a lady carrying a bushel of … never mind.” He glanced around the room. “So, this is where you guys will be watching from?”
“Yep,” Ron said.
“Man,” he said with a half smile, “you guys don’t know how lucky you are that this room is vacant.”
Chapter 25
Wiz taped the microphone to Jesse’s chest as a group of about twenty people walked into the room, all dressed in pajamas. They milled around tables that had been set up with games and activities.
“Keep an eye on your coffee,” said Ron.
Jesse wondered if his nervousness was because of the UC operation or the warnings Mack had passed along about not giving patients drinks and avoiding certain words. It wasn’t unusual to be nervous before going undercover. One of his instructors had said if you weren’t nervous, you weren’t engaged—the adrenaline kept you vigilant.
Ron approached him. “Jesse, I want you to—”
“I know. My number one priority is to keep Kyle safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”
“Too bad you can’t just wear him around your neck,” Ron said. “It would keep him safe and give you good luck all at the same time.”
“What kind of gun are you carrying?” The team looked up to find a tall man in too-short pajamas, his eyes studying the gun in Jesse’s holster. “That’s a Glock 27, .40 caliber, isn’t it?” he asked. “It’s got eleven rounds, weighs less than two pounds. Six point two-nine inches long and a little over an inch thick.” The man looked at Jesse. “Good choice.” Then he walked away.
“Was that Harold? Or Ned?” asked Wiz. “How will we know?”
“Probably just an undercover cop who went insane,” Dozer quipped.
“Why did he say good choice’?” asked Hank. Ron had nearly forgotten Hank was in the room.
“It has significant knock-down power with limited penetration,” Ron said, as Jesse took off his holster and put the gun in his waistband.
“What does that mean?” Hank asked.
Jesse answered. “It means it’ll kill the guy in front of you but probably not the guy standing on the other side of the wall.”
“All right, everyone. It’s just about time to get this thing rolling.”
“Walk in the park.”
“Yeah, Central Park—at night, with a bag of money and a sign that says, ‘Rob Me,’” Hank said, then smiled a little at everyone’s surprised faces. “I both talk and joke.”
“What are you drinking?”
They turned to see a man hunched over like he was about to rub his hands together over a fire. He stared at their coffee cups.
Wiz whispered to Jesse, “What do we do?”
“What does he want?” Jesse asked.
“Is that coffee?” the man asked, his eyes widening with each word. “I love coffee. I love it so much.”
“Sir, I’m sorry,” Mack said. “You can’t have any of our drinks.”
Wiz peeked over Jesse’s shoulder. “That’s Ned!”
“Who is Ned?” Jesse asked. “Why is everyone acting all freaky?”
“Didn’t you hear Mack talking about him?” Wiz whispered.
Ron pointed to Jesse. “Cool it, Jesse. Let’s not stir up any trouble. We’ll handle this.”
But the only person backing off was Wiz, who’d backed up all the way to the window. Jesse joined him. Wiz whispered, “He gets drunk if he drinks any kind of beverage.”
“Lucky him.”
Mack gently guided Ned to a male nurse who sat behind a desk reading a newspaper.
Jesse checked his watch. “I can’t wait to get down to the bar and join all the normal people.”
“All right,” began Ron, with an edge in his voice that Jesse hadn’t heard before. “Its time. Kyle, you wait in the hospital lobby until it’s your time to go, then use the alley to get to the bar.” Ron looked at Kyle. “You okay?”
Kyle put on a brave smile. “Walk in the park.”
Jesse and Kyle rode the elevator down in silence.
Jesse left Kyle in the hospital lobby and walked down the dark alley. With each stride, Jesse was replaced by Tony Ramone. Tony had a confidence in his walk that could command the attention of an entire room. It wasn’t just his walk, but also the way he looked at people. His mother used to describe a look that he would give his kindergarten teacher every day when she dropped him off. He simply glared at Mrs. Henson and declared with his face, “I hate you. And I hate school.” His mother said that look terrified Mrs. Henson for most of the first semester. “I’ve never seen a scowl like that,” she’d told his mother. A pure Tony look.
Jesse reached the street, which stirred with people. Things wouldn’t really get crowded until ten or so, but enough activity buzzed around him that nobody would have noticed him stepping from the alleyway. He looked back. It was only one block to the hospital, but it would probably seem like a few miles to Kyle. Jesse took a deep breath and stepped into the bar. Time to find a pool table.
The bar was more crowded than he’d expected, but a pool table opened up, and Jesse snagged it. A guy named Ed joined him. Luckily Ed wasn’t much of a talker, so Jesse could concentrate on his surroundings. He watched the door without looking at it. One thing he knew about bars: people watched people, and before long, someone would spot him staring at the door. He played it cool and never looked at his watch.
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