The Last Good Man

by A. J. Kazinsky

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just look. Is there a system in the way the cars are driving?”

  She smiled. “You’re trying to be nice.”

  “Just answer the question. Pretend that I’m an idiot.”

  “Okay, yes. There is a system.”

  “Exactly. People drive on the right side of the road. So even though you see systems that aren’t important, you also see some that are. I’ve been called manic-depressive. A victim of stress and depressions and psychoses. All of that. Everybody is always so busy trying to diagnose us. To explain our mood swings by relating them to some disease.”

  She hesitated. “You’re right. But now I’d better get home.”

  Niels studied her. “I guess that would be best. Because the problem isn’t with the fact that you see too many systems.” He started up the car.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It has to do with people, Hannah. As long as there are systems, theories, something going on inside your brain, everything is fine. But now that it has to do with real people, that’s when you shut down. Right?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  “There are systems, black holes, and dark matter. You know all about those sorts of things, Hannah. That’s your home turf. But there are also real people. Me . . . the people in your life . . . the next victim . . . your son.”

  “You . . .”

  She was just as taken aback by her loss of control as Niels was. But he was the one who felt the brunt of her anger. First she uttered a half-stifled scream that echoed in the small car. Then she began pummeling Niels with her fist.

  “Hannah! Calm down!” shouted Niels, holding up his hands to protect his face. He could have grabbed her arms, but he didn’t.

  “You, you . . .” she repeated over and over without finishing the sentence. She just kept on hitting him harder.

  Then she stopped. He tasted blood. It didn’t seem to matter that she could see the results of her rage. The seconds became a minute. Maybe more.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said.

  “It’s nothing.”

  She was breathing fast as she reached out to touch his mouth. She wiped away the trickle of blood from his lips, and Niels grabbed her hand. The kiss came as the most natural thing in the world. She turned to face him, got up on one knee, and leaned over him. She was the one doing the kissing. Her tongue slid cautiously over the tiny cut on his lower lip before meeting his. They stayed like that for several moments.

  Then Hannah sat back down in the passenger seat and looked out the window. As if nothing had happened. Neither the kiss nor her outburst. She was the first to break the silence.

  “You’re right,” she said.

  66

  Chiesa dei Santi Geremia e Lucia—Venice

  The call came at the very second the siren stopped wailing. A number with the country code 45. From Denmark. People weren’t supposed to take phone calls inside the church, but Tommaso had already lit a candle for his mother, crossed himself, and behaved like a good boy. He’d actually lit two candles, just to be on the safe side. Little Christmas-tree candles that would burn down in no time. He moved into the side aisle so as not to disturb anyone else. In a low voice, he said, “Tommaso di Barbara.”

  It was the Danish woman. She wanted to know if he’d received her message.

  “Oui.”

  She spoke French with a strong Danish accent. But she pronounced each word with care. “The system works down to the last decimal,” she explained.

  “That sounds unbelievable.”

  “If the number is correct—if we’re talking about the number thirty-six . . .”

  There was a lot of noise on the line. Tommaso looked up at the painting above him: Jesus was standing there with His arms outstretched. Thomas the Doubter was sticking his finger into one of Christ’s wounds, at the spot where the Roman spear had pierced the Savior’s side.

  “Are you still there?”

  Hannah replied, “Yes, sorry. There are two more murders. The next one will take place either in your city or in ours.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She answered without hesitation, confident in her belief, which suited the place where Tommaso found himself at the moment.

  “But . . .” Tommaso struggled to formulate his amazement. Up near the altar, a glass case contained a figure dressed in red. A tourist took a picture of it. Tommaso turned away from the scene. “When?”

  “All the murders were apparently committed at sundown.”

  In his mind, Tommaso quickly ran through the list of victims. Why hadn’t he noticed that? Presumably because an exact time of death had been ascertained for only a few of the murders. But still. Every day for the past six months, he had spent hours on the case, and yet this woman had been able to solve the whole thing in no time at all.

  “Monsieur di Barbara?”

  “Oui.”

  “I’m sending you a text. It contains the coordinates for the location where the murder will be committed.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Hannah was silent for several seconds. Then she said: “What did you want us to do when you sent us all that information about the case?”

  Tommaso looked around.

  Hannah asked, “When is the sun going to set there in Venice?”

  “Very soon, I think.”

  “Then you could use the time that’s left to pinpoint the coordinates that I’m sending you. Find the location where the murder is going to take place. Try to stop it.”

  “Right. Of course. It’s just that my mother . . .”

  He considered explaining the situation. That his mother was dead. He had to go back. It would be frowned on if he left so soon after she died. But he didn’t say anything.

  “There’s a certain amount of leeway with the GPS. But it should be accurate to within a few yards. I’ve got to go now.”

  Luciano was sitting on the church steps. He was one of the few homeless people left in Venice. They were no longer tolerated because of the tourists. When Tommaso was a child, there had been many more. Now Luciano was practically the only one left. On the other hand, everyone in the neighborhood tried to help him. As if he were the local pet.

  “Tommaso. Give me some change.”

  Tommaso rummaged through his pockets. “I’ve only got eighty cents.”

  “Never mind.” Luciano dismissed the eighty cents with a wave of his hand and an insulted sigh. Tommaso then found a five-euro bill in his back pocket and handed it to the man.

  As Tommaso dashed across the square, he saw that the water had risen another half inch. Except for Luciano on the church steps, the streets were deserted. “Merry Christmas,” the old drunk yelled, and then Tommaso turned the corner.

  67

  The National Hospital—Copenhagen

  Hannah was sitting in the lobby of the National Hospital, and Niels was impatiently pacing back and forth, when he caught sight of his colleague through the window. Casper parked his bicycle, removed the bike lights, and came inside.

  “I came as fast as I could.” Casper sounded out of breath.

  “Did you tell anyone where you were going?”

  “Nobody asked.”

  “Good. I want you to meet Hannah. The two of you are going to be working together.”

  “I’ve never been out in the field before,” he said excitedly. Hannah came over to join them.

  Niels introduced her. “Hannah Lund. Professor at the Niels Bohr Institute,” he added. She didn’t try to correct him. Any other explanation would have been too complicated. Introducing Casper was easier and also closer to the truth: the computer genius from police headquarters.

  Personnel office, the National Hospital—Copenhagen

  It took forever for the fluorescent lights to turn on. The cold glow lit up the sign on the frosted glass of the door: NATIONAL HOSPITAL PERSONNEL OFFICE.

&nbs
p; “I was just leaving for the day,” said Thor, the middle-aged man in charge of IT who had let them in.

  I wonder if his parents still think Thor is a suitable name for a such a small man, thought Niels. Maybe they knew that he was going to be short before he was born, so they tried to compensate for his size. Thor Jensen. Just over four and a half feet tall.

  “Okay. Jurassic Computer Park,” said Casper, running his hand over one of the old computer screens.

  Thor had no idea what Casper was referring to. “It’s Friday. People go home early,” he replied.

  “Do you know how to turn on the system?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do it,” Niels told him.

  With a sigh, Thor set his bag on the desk, went to the back of the room, and turned on the main switch. An electric hum spread through the room.

  Casper laughed with delight. “It’s like going back in time.”

  “It actually works great. Better than the old system.”

  “Which was what? Punch cards?”

  Thor apparently didn’t feel like discussing the hospital computers with Casper and shrugged. “Is there anything else?”

  Casper looked at Niels. Hannah answered him. “Could you print out a complete list of all the hospital employees?”

  “Theoretically, yes.”

  “All the patients too,” Niels added.

  “I was off duty three minutes ago.”

  “When am I going to find out exactly what we’re doing here?” asked Casper.

  Niels looked from Casper to Thor. He knew there was no other option. He would have to explain, as briefly and precisely as possible. “We’re trying to find a good person who’s at work right now in this hospital.”

  No one spoke. Thor gaped at Niels.

  Casper opened his bag and took out his laptop. The police department’s logo was imprinted on the shiny aluminum: two lions rampant, and between them an open hand holding an eye. The eye of the police.

  “The same search we did before?” asked Casper.

  “No,” said Niels. “We need to be more precise this time. We’re not interested in people who are well-known public figures.”

  Casper looked up. “Then how do you want to do this?”

  “We’re looking for someone between the ages of forty-four and fifty.”

  Hannah added, “Who doesn’t have children.”

  “That could be me,” said Thor. They all turned to stare at him.

  Niels went on. “Someone who has contact with lots of people. And who saves lives.”

  “There must be a few people like that in this place.”

  “That’s why you’re here, Casper.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We need you to sort them out.”

  Hannah sat down at one of the old computers.

  “Hannah, I want you to find possible candidates,” Niels said.

  Thor cleared his throat. “Excuse me for interrupting, but . . .”

  Niels glanced impatiently at Thor. “Yes?”

  “What is this all about?”

  “We’re trying to prevent a murder that is going to be committed in this hospital at three thirty-seven P.M. That’s in less than an hour.”

  Casper stood up, looking anxious. “Maybe you’d better get somebody else.”

  Niels took him by the arm and said authoritatively, “Take it easy. Sit down, Casper.” But Casper remained standing. “We have a chance to prevent it. We need your brainpower. You’re the only one who can do this.”

  “What if I fail?”

  “That’s not going to happen. We fail only if we don’t try. Sit down.”

  Finally, Casper sat back down. Niels noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. Hannah put her hand on Casper’s shoulder to reassure him.

  “As I was saying, Hannah and Thor will find the candidates in the hospital’s computer.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m off the clock.”

  Niels refused to let him off the hook. “Thor? Have you ever tasted the food in Vestre Prison? Goulash out of a can.”

  Silence. The little computer guy unbuttoned his jacket and sat down next to the others.

  “We’re looking for someone between forty-four and fifty.”

  “That should be possible.”

  Niels went on. “And Casper, you’ll check to see if they qualify or not.”

  Hannah sighed. “What would disqualify someone? What would knock them off the list?”

  Niels paused to think. “Frequent or serious trouble with the law. That sort of person wouldn’t be considered good. You’d be surprised how many people have a police record.”

  “What about the Russian?” said Hannah. “He was in prison.”

  “Yes, but he was jailed for speaking out against the political system. He hadn’t committed a crime against a fellow citizen. On the contrary.”

  “So what about the man in Israel, the one who released the prisoners?”

  “The same thing. He was convicted of doing something good that happened to be against the law.”

  Casper had logged on. “Where should we start? The doctors? The nurses?”

  “What about the orderlies?” asked Hannah. “Could they also be considered good?”

  “Sure. But let’s start at the top.”

  Hannah shook her head. “That’s not systematic, Niels. It might also be a patient.”

  “Thor? Can you also tell us who the patients are in the hospital?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. But let’s start with the employees. Doctors, midwives, researchers. Between forty-four and fifty. With no children.”

  “I can check that in the civil registry,” said Casper.

  “We’re lucky that it’s Friday afternoon. And the Friday before Christmas. Lots of people are already on vacation. Others have left work early. Right, Thor?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Good. I want all of you to feed me the names and departments. Then I’ll contact the candidates.”

  “What are you thinking about saying to them? Are you just going to ask them if they’re a good person?” Hannah asked.

  For several seconds Niels merely stared at her. “Yes.”

  “Niels, this is impossible.”

  Niels thought, then he nodded. “You’re right, it’s impossible. Almost. Normally, we have to find a murderer. In this case, we know nothing about the killer. The most logical thing would be to evacuate the hospital. But we can’t.” He paused. “On the other hand, we have quite a few victims. All between forty-four and fifty. All of them childless. And they seem to have had a peculiar ability to find themselves suddenly—almost against their will—in the exact place where their help was needed most. We’re looking for someone who has a lot of interaction with many different people. Someone associated with a network.”

  He was looking only at Hannah. He smiled. “These people are like spiders in a web. They have feelers out everywhere, and they can sense when someone gets caught in the web. Then they’re ready to help.”

  All three were looking at him expectantly. Niels went on, “Why should it be so impossible? I’ve spent fifteen years searching out evil. And that doesn’t surprise anyone. So why should it take an hour or so to find a good person? Is goodness harder to see than evil?”

  He pointed out the window at the sinking December sun. It was hovering just above the bare treetops in Amor Park. “We’ve got an hour before sunset. And yes, it probably does seem impossible. Almost ridiculous. But isn’t it worth sacrificing an hour to try? Even though success is statistically improbable?”

  A couple of seconds passed as everyone thought about what he’d just said, with the hum of the computers the only sound in the room. Surprisingly enough, it was Thor who answered first. “Yes,” he said.

  “I agree,” said Casper, who had regained his self-confidence.

  “Okay. Then let’s get started. Check the hospital’s records. Take the employees first,” Niels said, turning
toward the rather bewildered IT expert.

  Hannah logged on to her computer.

  Niels went on, “Then check the civil registry to see if they have any children. Call me on my cell when you have some names.”

  Thor looked up from his screen. “I’ve got one here. Tanja Munck. She’s a midwife. She has the night shift, so she’s on duty now. I can see that she’s already punched in.”

  “What’s her civil registration number?”

  Thor read off the number. Casper’s fingers danced over the keyboard. “Tanja Munck has three children. Her divorce was finalized in 1993 by the Lyngby district court—”

  Niels interrupted impatiently. “Okay. Move on to the next one.”

  Hannah had found one. “Thomas Jacobsen. Forty-eight years old. How do I find out what sort of work he does?” She turned to Thor.

  “What’s his CR number?” Niels asked.

  “Here he is.” Casper found his name in the civil registry. “No children. Registered as living with another man.”

  Hannah smiled. “Does that mean he’s disqualified?”

  “Of course not. Find out where he is. Then call me,” Niels said.

  “Is he at work right now?”

  Thor made a call. Niels glanced at his watch as he walked out the door. The last thing he heard was Thor’s voice, sounding eager and enthusiastic. “Security? This is the personnel office. Thomas Jacobsen—has he started his shift yet?”

  Corridors of the National Hospital—Copenhagen

  2:37 P.M.

  In an hour someone would die.

  People died all the time, especially in a place like this. On average, twenty people each day chose to leave their bodies in this particular hospital. On the other hand, just as many babies were born. Niels’s cell rang. It was Hannah. “Thomas Jacobsen is a no-go.”

  “So who’s next?”

  “Head for the surgery wing.”

  A nurse was passing Niels. “Which way to the surgery wing?” he asked her.

  “Take the elevator to the sixth floor. Then go left.”

  “Thanks.”

  He heard Hannah’s voice on the phone. “Can you listen to some statistics while you’re on the elevator?”