The Program

by Stephen White

  Carl took both my hands and led me across the park to the bench by Boulder Creek. He sat me down. To clear my head, I asked how Landon was doing.

  “Happy as a clam. She’s studying spelling, if you can believe it. Never seen such a thing.”

  I smiled weakly.

  He said, “Now tell me, how was your friend killed?”

  “How?”

  “What method?”

  Not, “What happened?” Not, “Why?” But, “How?”

  “His wife told my other friend that the paramedics thought it was a heart attack. She found him this morning slumped over the wheel of his car in their garage. Dave has a history of heart problems.”

  Carl nodded. “They probably used drugs. It’ll be hard to prove unless the cops are looking for it. Your other friend? The one you called first? She was involved with this old case, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why does somebody want you all dead?”

  “We’re pretty sure a man was framed for murder years ago. We think by the police. We were involved with the prosecution. The three of us were going to start trying to get the conviction overturned.”

  “Why?”

  Carl seemed sincerely puzzled. I tried to explain. “The man who was convicted for the crimes is about to be executed. None of us could let that happen. We were planning a campaign to reopen the case.”

  Carl’s expression betrayed nothing as he said, “But you could all live with this guy being in prison for all these years? That didn’t bother you none?”

  I felt defensive as I said, “The man who was convicted is not a good man. He’s a … criminal. He deserved to be in prison.” My explanation sounded righteous and hollow simultaneously. Especially given the fact that the man who comprised my audience of one was also once a criminal who some other prosecutor had decided deserved to be in prison.

  Carl let it slide. “You have evidence to support your new point of view? I’m guessing you don’t.”

  I shook my head. “We have an idea where to look for evidence. Whom we might talk to.”

  “I assume that what the three of you have been planning wouldn’t make the police who investigated this very happy.”

  “No.”

  “So I’m left to what-do-you-say—surmise—that it’s a cop that hired this Prowler?”

  I nodded. “That’s what I’m guessing.”

  “You think you know who?”

  I nodded again.

  “How sure are you?”

  “Why?”

  “Curious.”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Put a number on it. Like 99 percent sure?”

  “Ninety percent sure.”

  Carl took a long slow breath. On the exhale he said, “This cop have a name?”

  “Mickey Redondo. He’s a detective.”

  “Tell me about Mickey Redondo.”

  I did. I told him what I knew about Mickey. It wasn’t much. Carl asked a few more questions. I remembered a few details about Mickey, his family, and his kids. I filled in where I could.

  When I was done he said, “But your friend’s okay as of this morning? The one you talked to.”

  “She has the flu.”

  “The flu?”

  “She stayed home from work today with the flu.”

  “She live in a house or apartment?”

  “Condo.”

  “Big building?”

  “Big enough.”

  “Havin’ the flu may have saved her life.”

  “That’s what I told her, too.”

  Carl said, “I’m going to give you some ideas for her. You need to call her back and tell her what to do.”

  “Okay,” I said. “What?”

  “She should call the police and make up some story about being afraid after her friend died. Ask for protection. I bet one of Prowler’s people is waiting for her to come out of her house. If there’s somebody there, they need to see the cops arrive.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to call Prowler again. Mention the name of that cop you think is dirty. Create some, what-do-you-say, turmoil.”

  Below us the water was still rushing over the smooth rocks in Boulder Creek. Until that moment I hadn’t heard a single sound as the torrent flowed nor had I noticed the passing of a solitary drop.

  CARL AND I arrived at the pay phones again. I tried Andrea’s number. It was busy.

  I said to Carl, “Her line’s busy. Maybe she’s already calling for help. Before I call her back, I need to know something.” I touched his arm near his biceps. “Are you doing okay? About last night, I mean?”

  His eyes narrowed. He said, “I don’t know what you mean. The thing at your house?”

  I flicked a glance his way so I could gauge his sincerity. “I’m talking about what happened at the motel on Arapahoe. Are you feeling all right about what happened there last night?”

  I saw his Adam’s apple pop as he swallowed and watched him wet his lips with his tongue.

  “Feeling … all right?”

  “When we talked last week, you said sometimes it’s hard … you know, afterward. Emotionally, I mean. You talked about playing catch with your kid and cooking ziti. I was just wondering how you were feeling today, that’s all. I’m … concerned.” I stared at the creek, then at my fingers. I was beginning to feel awkward and uncomfortable.

  “Penne,” he said. “It’s different from ziti. They’re both little tubes but one has ridges; the penne does. And it’s cut at an angle like. The other one’s plain, you know, smooth, and it curves a little. I use penne more; I kinda like the way the ridges catch the sauce.”

  “I never knew the difference. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s nothing.” He touched me on the arm. “Peyton, listen to me. I’ve hurt a lot of people in my life. That’s the truth. I have. But I’ve helped more people than I’ve hurt. You may not want to believe that, but it’s true. I’ve saved more people than I’ve killed. And last night wasn’t about hurting somebody. It was about helping somebody, saving somebody.”

  Was I supposed to say “Thank you”?

  He said, “But thanks for asking. I’m seeing Dr. Gregory later. You know.”

  I didn’t know, but I dropped it. Mustering the energy to extend compassion to a killer the first time had taken all my emotional reserves. I couldn’t do it again.

  I just couldn’t. Even though the hit man had probably just saved my life.

  4

  Andrea’s line was still busy when I called a second time. I was growing more and more agitated. I stood by Carl’s side and listened as he made his second call to Prowler. Carl dialed the number from memory.

  I don’t know how Prowler answered, but Carl began his end of the conversation by saying, “It’s Barbara’s friend from Colorado. You remember—from before? Good. Thought you might remember me. Listen, there’s some-thin’ I forgot to tell ya, earlier…. You don’t mind? This isn’t a bad time for you?… You’re sure? I don’t want to interrupt somethin’ important.”

  Carl’s tone had taken on a different cadence. He was clipping his words, dropping consonants. It was a fresh melody swollen with attitude. He sounded like a mobster from the movies.

  As he listened to whatever Prowler was saying in reply, Carl rocked his head back and forth slowly, and rolled his eyes as though he found what he was hearing to be tedious.

  “Good, good. I’m glad to hear that…. What did I forget? Here’s what I forgot. I forgot to ask you to give my regards to Mickey. You’ll do that for me, right?… His son’s still at Duke I hear. Electrical engineering or something like that? Do I have that right? Daughter’s about to graduate high school? A father should be proud, real proud of kids like that.”

  As Prowler responded, Carl’s eyes flashed a little surprise.

  “You’re askin’ me Mickey who? What do you think, Mickey fuckin’ Mantle? Mickey fuckin’ Mouse? How many Mickeys you and I both know, Prowler? Don’t pull my chain. I ge
t short of patience. You can ask your friend Barbara Barbara Turner about my patience.”

  Carl hung up.

  When he turned to me and spoke again, his voice had evened out, the odd cadence again submerged. Like one of my whales. He said, “Message delivered. Just like Western Union.” He paused. “Or e-mail. Whatever.”

  MY TURN. I glanced over my shoulder to check on Landon. It appeared that she was still studying her spelling lists. I owed her big time for her cooperation. Maybe I’d find a way to get her some sushi.

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Carl was doing that neck-stretch thing again. I turned back and punched in the long string of numbers that would connect me to Florida.

  “Andrea,” I said, “it’s me again.” She’d answered after half a ring.

  Her voice was thick and heavy, as though she’d been drinking. I hoped it was the flu, not alcohol. She needed to stay sober for what was going to happen next. Her words came out in a burst. She said, “Hi. First thing is, I’m really, really scared, like terrified. Got it? Second thing is, you think Dave was murdered, don’t you? You don’t think it was a heart attack?”

  I forced much more calm into my tone than I was feeling. My instinct was to counterbalance Andrea’s anxiety in the same manner that Robert had often tried to counterbalance mine. He used to joke that once freed, my anxiety tended to act like a balloon while the air was escaping.

  Andrea’s too.

  I replied, “I think it’s possible that Dave was killed. In case that’s true—and we don’t know that for sure—you and I need to be especially careful. First thing is that you need to get some protection. Here’s what you’re going to do: As soon as we hang up you need to call the police, tell them how frightened you are, tell them that you and Dave had received threats about an old case—even use Khalid if you want. Have the police come over and get you and help you find someplace safe to stay for now. Okay? Can you do that?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. I’ll—”

  I heard a quick intake of breath, a loud thud, and a sound like someone spitting.

  “Andrea? Andrea?”

  No answer. Not another sound from Andrea.

  I shouted, “Andrea!”

  Seconds passed while I strained to hear another sound come from the speaker that I was pressing hard against my ear. I shouted, “Andrea!” again. An elderly woman walking on the sidewalk toward the teahouse tried to ignore my outburst, but failed.

  In my ear a hard click was followed instantly by the sound of the dial tone. For some reason I thought it was odd that the phone hadn’t even been jostled on its way back to the cradle.

  I dropped the receiver and covered my mouth with both hands. I said, “Oh dear God, no.”

  Carl said, “What? What?”

  “I think they just killed her. While I was talking to her, I think someone killed her.”

  “What?”

  “She just stopped talking, right in the middle of a sentence. I heard some funny noises—like a slap, some spitting—and then the line just went dead.”

  He grabbed me by both shoulders and stared intently into my eyes. “You got her address?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” I said, already digging into my purse. He didn’t have to ask another question. Immediately, I called the familiar number of the Sarasota Police Department and said I’d heard a woman screaming bloody murder inside a condo on Longboat Key. I gave Andrea’s address. They tried to get my name and number, but I just told them to hurry. Then I hung up.

  Carl said, “Given the present circumstances, you’ve been in one place way too long. We should both get out of here. You want a ride somewheres for you and your kid?”

  Numbly I said, “Yes, that would be nice.” I turned to walk back to retrieve Landon and her wheelchair.

  She was gone.

  5

  Krist finally returned Prowler’s page.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I was already visiting my second cousin when you paged me. Couldn’t exactly pull out my cell phone and chat.”

  “Visiting? Her home? I thought this was going to take place out in the open. You said something about water?”

  “Her routine changed. She stayed home today. I had to alter the plans to keep on schedule.”

  “Are you on your cell right now?”

  “Yeah. But don’t worry, it’s a fresh clone.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I want you to pull back.”

  “What do you mean, pull back?”

  “Retreat. We’ve lost the coordination on the other end. We’re going to have to regroup.”

  “I can’t pull back. Like I said, I had to go to plan B, but it went okay. The visit’s done on my end. I’m on my way to do the drop.”

  “You’ve run both errands?”

  “As ordered.”

  “Damn. Where are you now?”

  “I’m on my way south to the Everglades. I’m planning to do a little sight-seeing. Maybe feed some wildlife.”

  Prowler growled, “I don’t want any evidence of this… surfacing. Not now. Not next week. Not ever.”

  “In that case I’ll forgo putting a cross up where I leave the remains. It’s usually a dead giveaway.”

  “I’m not in the mood for your humor. And I think I’m going to need you to run another errand right away. The one that was supposed to be done along with yours. That target’s on the run, so this new errand’s going to be out of town. Call me on a land line when you’re free.”

  “It’ll be a couple hours till I can get down there and get everything into small enough sizes to feed the alligators.”

  Prowler shuddered at the image, hung up, and said, “Damn.”

  TWO MINUTES LATER Prowler was about to call his client and give him the bad news about Colorado when the phone rang again. This time it was Marvin calling from Washington, D.C.

  Prowler hadn’t correctly guessed the identity of the caller.

  Marvin said, “My man just phoned. Half the building is acting crazed. They’re burning up the e-mails between headquarters and the field, especially Colorado. It looks like they can’t find her.”

  “What do you mean they can’t find her?”

  “The marshals have lost her. She split from the place where she was living sometime last night, and she’s gone into hiding somewhere else. My guy’s take is that he thinks that internal security was breached, that somebody in WITSEC found out where she was and it freaked her. She ran. They’re checking buses and shit. He says they’re using all their resources to track her down.”

  “They’re sure she’s gone and not… gone?”

  “No, they’re not sure. They are considering that option as well. But so far, no evidence.”

  “Call me when they find her. Especially if they find her body.”

  “Immediately. Prowler?”

  “Yes.”

  “I told you my man was good.”

  Prowler grunted and disconnected the call without responding.

  PROWLER ADJUSTED THE microphone on his headset, punched in the number for his client’s pager, left an emergency code, and then he waited. The return call came in eighty-eight seconds.

  “Prowler.”

  “What’s up?”

  “You on a land line or a cell?”

  “Hard wire. Pay phone.”

  “My man on the ground in Colorado is history. The target’s status is unknown. There’s a small chance that the errand was run for us by someone else. What’s more likely is that she’s on the loose from her handlers.”

  “What about Florida?”

  “The local errands have been run successfully.”

  “Shit. This was supposed to be timed with precision. I can’t believe you blew this.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You have intelligence on her whereabouts?”

  Prowler wondered if the man was attempting to be sarcastic. “We’re right on top of it. We know what the marshals know. They’re scouring the country looking
for her. When they find her, if she’s alive, we’ll deploy immediately. If she’s dead, everyone’s concerns are moot.”

  “You’ll deploy? If they find her first, they’re not going to let her surface for weeks. Maybe months, Prowler. They’ll put her and her kid in a safe house with full-time U.S. Marshal babysitters. You need to find her first, not second. Once she learns what happened to her friends and puts two and two together, then she’s really, really going to start singing.”

  Prowler knew the man’s conclusion was absolutely right, but he was loath to acknowledge it. He kept his silence.

  The man prattled on. “You’ve already broken our contract, you know. Timing, as the lawyers like to say, was of the essence.”

  “You’re threatening not to pay me?”

  “Quite the opposite. I’ll be making the second payment as soon as we get off the phone. What I want you to do is go and earn it. Page me immediately when you have an update.”

  Prowler had a physical repulsion to being ordered about. He felt the tendons in the front of his neck tighten. He said, “Before you hang up, there is one additional piece of news you might want.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “The man who apparently killed my operative in Colorado? He seems to know your identity.”

  “What?”

  “He phoned me to inform me of the failure of the mission in Boulder. By the way, be assured that this was a reliable man I had in Colorado—getting my phone number from him would have required significant persuasion, I can assure you. Anyway, the man on the phone told me to be sure to give his regards to ‘Mickey.’ Didn’t use a last name. But he did go on and mention something about your children. Seemed to know details about their lives. You have a son at Duke apparently? An electrical-engineering student or something like that? The man on the phone suggested you should be very proud of him.”

  The man laughed nervously. “Are you making this up, Prowler?”

  “Au contraire. I have the entire conversation on disk. You want to hear it yourself?”

  “Who was it? A marshal?”