Dark Channel

by Ray Garton

  “Hey, Dad,” she said, smiling as she hooked her arm in Coogan’s. “How’s it goin’?”

  When he looked at her, it was nearly impossible not to see Katie and he wasn’t sure if he could speak to his daughter in a civil manner. He glanced at Lizzie—she raised her brows high as if to say, Well? Go ahead.—then glanced at Jordan—he gave a slight nod of encouragement—and Coogan turned back to his daughter. “Uh … fine, honey. How’s by you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” She squeezed his arm.

  He didn’t believe she was fine, but had to dig deep inside himself to see if he cared. He looked at Jordan again and got another encouraging nod. “Uh, look, honey, we’ve gotta talk,” he said quietly.

  “Yeah, I know, Dad, that’s why—”

  “C’mere,” he said, turning her away from the others and putting some distance between them. “I mean we’ve gotta talk soon, Paula. You and me. We’ve gotta sit down and do some talking.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m … y’know, I’m sorry for the way I behaved the other day. I-yum … I didn’t mean to say the things I said.”

  Coogan sucked his lips between his teeth for a moment to hold back what he wanted to say, then said, “Why don’t you come over tonight.”

  “Sure. That would be great.”

  “And, uh …” He thought about it for a long time, staring at her with his mouth open. “… why don’t you bring the kids. Give their ol’ gramps a chance to spend some time with ’em.”

  “Well … I don’t know, see, um, they’re, uh …” She looked over his shoulder and her mouth opened in a big grin as she danced around him back to the others, asking, “Who’re your friends, Daddy?”

  Clenching his fists, he turned and followed her, clutching her shoulder to turn her away from them and saying, “Paula, why can’t you bring Katie and Jake?”

  She wouldn’t look at him directly, but never stopped smiling. She turned to the others again. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friends, Daddy?”

  He looked at Jordan again. Another nod. He opened his mouth to introduce them, but couldn’t. He turned to his daughter and said, “Paula, what … why can’t you …” The next time he looked at Jordan, he got a Not now shake of the head and said, “Paula, this is Jordan Cross and Marvin Ackroyd, and this is Lizzie Murphy and—” He stopped involuntarily when he saw the looks Jordan and Marvin were giving him. He stopped and stared at them with a slack jaw, wondering what was wrong; they looked horrified, especially Jordan, who seemed to have paled. He continued. “—a-and this is, um, this is Lauren, uh, Lauren Schroeder.” Jordan made a sound in his throat as if he were choking and Coogan noticed that his fists were clenched at his sides and his face was turning red.

  “Well, I’m Paula,” she said, her head bobbing. “Nice to meet all of you.” Then she turned to Coogan and said quietly, “I’ll be at your place tonight. Around six or so, ’kay?”

  He looked at the others and saw only tension, hostility, and he didn’t know why; it confused him and he turned away from all of them, standing still and silent for a long time, taking deep, quiet breaths. Then he turned to Paula and said, “I’ll see you then.”

  She hurried away.

  Jordan began walking so fast that his feet kicked up gravel. The others, one at a time, began to follow him. Except for Lizzie. She took his hand.

  “You are about to get yelled at,” she said quietly as they followed the others.

  “Why? What did I do? I didn’t think I was—I mean, I was just—”

  “Don’t bust a blood vessel over it. It’s really not going to matter in the end. But see, you introduced Marvin and Jordan by their real names. Remember what Jordan told us about all that fake-name business?”

  “Oh, lord,” he gasped, slapping a hand to his cheek. “Oh, no, no, how could I do such a thing? I was, y’see, I was so thrown by seeing Paula, I didn’t—”

  “I know, Coogan, I know. You’re gonna get yelled at pretty quick, but just remember that I’m on your side.”

  They walked for a while, then he muttered, “Shit,” and Lizzie let go his hand, put her arm around him and patted his back.

  When they got into the car—Jordan and Marvin in front, Lauren, Lizzie and Coogan in back—Marvin slipped the key into the ignition but Jordan grabbed his arm before he could start the engine. Jordan turned in the seat until he was facing Coogan.

  “You stupid son of a bitch!” he shouted, digging his fingers into the back of the seat. “Do you know what you’ve just done? Huh? Do you?”

  Coogan’s hands were trembling uncontrollably and his lips soon joined them as he looked down at his lap like a scolded child. The news about Katie had been weighing heavily on him since the night before, had been eating at him like a rat, and it had taken a tremendous effort to hold onto his composure. When Jordan shouted at him, Coogan felt himself losing that composure. He felt himself begin to cry and for that he hated himself.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, fighting the tears. “I-it was a muh-mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Jordan shouted. “Well, I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, but—”

  “Stop!”

  Lizzie’s voice startled Jordan. She was staring at him with fiery eyes.

  “Don’t you think Coogan’s been through enough?” she asked quietly. “Don’t you think he’s entitled to a mistake or two?”

  “Yeah, sure, I know, but do you know what that could cost me? We’re trying to maintain a cover here. I have a job to carry out and I can’t do it if—”

  “Mr. Cross, you no longer have an employer. Are you sure you have a job to carry out?”

  Jordan stopped. She was right. With Fiske dead, he and Marvin did not have a job. Fiske had given him a cash advance and told him to give a call whenever they needed anything at all; it would be provided immediately. The cash advance was running out rapidly and there would be no more money coming in. In fact, there was a good chance that Fiske’s estate would deny any connection between Edmond Fiske and Jordan Cross. So what was he to do?

  He looked at Coogan. The old man was on the verge of sobbing.

  “I’m, uh … I’m sorry,” Jordan said. “I’m kind of under some pressure and, uh …”

  Coogan slapped a hand on Jordan’s shoulder and squeezed, nodding. His voice seemed to squeeze tightly through a swollen throat. “S’okay. I understand. Y’know … there’s a chance she won’t even remember your name. She’s not as sharp as she used to be. Doesn’t look too well these days. Anyway, she’ll be coming to my place tonight. Around six.”

  They sat in the car for a long time, saying nothing. There had been too many surprises, too much news, almost too much to absorb.

  “Well,” Marvin said, his voice hushed as if he were at a funeral, “we’ve got a lot to talk about. What do you say we get out of here and decide what to do next?”

  They agreed.

  Hester stood in front of the hotel with Paula Coogan and the same two men who’d followed her out of Penny Park earlier.

  “That woman is obviously Mark Schroeder’s wife, Lauren,” she said, watching them disappear down the long driveway. “She seems to be sticking pretty close to that balding fellow.”

  Paula said, “His name is, um—” She rolled her eyes upward to think a moment. “—Jordan Cross.”

  “And the other man?”

  “Marvin Ackroyd.”

  “We’ll have to find out everything we can about them. But don’t follow them for now,” she said to the man on her left. “They won’t go far, I’m sure.” A smile. “And they’ll be back.”

  5.

  Instead of going to the motel, they went to Coogan’s where there was plenty of coffee and aspirin. Inside, Coogan settled everyone in the living room, then made sure things were going well in the store. He brought the pot of hot coffee in from the store, took it to the kitchen
and poured cups for everyone. Coogan took his with a splash of whiskey. He seldom drank, and when he did, it was usually well after sundown. But there was nothing usual about this morning.

  When Marvin wandered by the kitchen doorway and spotted Coogan’s brandy, he stepped into the room wearing a lopsided smile and said softly, “Medicate mine, too, willya?”

  In the living room, Jordan was standing in front of the small brick fireplace leaning on the mantel, when Lizzie tapped his shoulder and whispered, “Could I speak with you?”

  “Well, yeah. Sure.” He didn’t sound too enthusiastic.

  She led him halfway down a short hall, away from the others.

  “Look, Mr. Cross,” she whispered, “when I snapped at you in the car, I hope you didn’t take it too personally. I’m sorry if you did. I just thought you were being too hard on Coogan.”

  Without ever meeting her eyes, he stuffed his fingers in his back pockets, nodded and said, “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it. I was being too hard on him.”

  “I was also afraid I might have said the wrong thing when I reminded you that you no longer have a job here in Grover.”

  He looked her in the eye then. “What’s wrong with that? It’s true.”

  “Yes, but, in light of Mr. Fiske’s death, surely you must be considering your options now. And one of those options is to simply walk away from all of this. It would certainly make sense, no doubt about that. No client, no money. And having no money can be rather paralyzing in your business, I would think.”

  His face hardened and his voice was coldly defensive. “So you’re telling me to leave? So you can, what, take center stage, or something? Is that what you want?”

  “I’m asking you to please stay.”

  He flinched, started to reply, but just blinked silently instead.

  “We need you, Mr. Cross,” she whispered. “You’re clearly very good at what you do and you have a solid grip on this situation. We need some sort of leadership and you’re providing it very well. And aside from all that, think carefully about what you’d be walking away from. Not only from people who need you, but from a very powerful, malignant woman whose forces will only continue to grow until someday they may affect you no matter how far away you go.”

  There was silence as Jordan considered what to say. He was going to say that he was planning to stay, but he simply could not resist …

  “I don’t know why you need me when you have your god,” he said.

  “My god hasn’t stepped onto the stage and performed one of his spectacular production numbers in a very long time, as far as I know. Of course, he’s perfectly capable of changing that, but I suspect he’s taken to working through people these days. And he’s done a wonderful job through you. I just hope you’ll allow him to continue.” She smiled. “That’s all I wanted to say, Mr. Cross.” She turned to go.

  Jordan wanted to kick something. He wanted to break something. Her smugness was a knife between his ribs. Her attitude of unquestionable rightness made him want to roar and pound his fist into something. She was just like his parents and all of their friends had been; she walked around acting as if she were superhuman, perfect, able to walk on water.

  “Oh, one more thing.”

  He looked up to see her coming back.

  “I, uh … I got started on the wrong foot with you and I want to apologize. Heaven only knows what you must think of me, and I don’t blame you. I’ve said some things that pushed your buttons, I know. Some have been mistakes, but others, I admit, were intentional. I wanted to make you think, I guess. But I did a lousy job and I’m sorry. Like Marvin said, he explained your background to me briefly. You have every reason to feel the way you do. I’m sorry if I gave you more reasons. Tell you the truth, I’m not exactly myself.” She laughed nervously. “I’ve been kind of tense ever since I left Irving. I don’t get out much, really. The people at the chapel, they’re all pretty needy. They need me to take care of them and that’s what I do best. For the most part, they share my beliefs, so I’m not used to being around people who don’t. And I’m not used to being this close to Hester. She … well, I guess my faith is weak, but I must admit—” Her voice trembled a bit. “—she frightens me. And on top of all that, I’ve been fighting the urge to drink for months now, and … this situation doesn’t help any. I actually—” Another nervous laugh. “—I actually dreamed of vodka on the rocks last night, and that drink Hester sent to me this morning looked good. It looked so good,” she whispered. “Anyway, I just hope you’ll forgive me. For my sharp tongue, I mean, and for … anything else I’ve done to make you angry. I’d like us to be friends, Mr. Cross.”

  He sighed, his anger deflated, and after a moment said, “Forget about it, okay?”

  She gave him a big smile.

  “And call me Jordan.”

  “Thank you, Jordan.”

  She returned to the living room.

  His nerves were raw, and although he didn’t feel tired, his lack of sleep made his bones ache and his head buzz. Before returning to the living room, he stopped by the kitchen and saw Coogan and Marvin, a tray of cups filled with coffee and a bottle of whiskey.

  “Hi, guys,” he said with a weary smile. “Can I have a shot?”

  A few minutes later, everyone was seated in the living room but Jordan, who stood by the fireplace in front of them. He was a little more relaxed since the drink, but not much.

  The first thing they agreed upon was the importance of stopping Mark Schroeder before he left for the Diego Nuclear Power Plant … if he hadn’t already. The only problem was finding him. Perhaps Paula Coogan could help with that. Once they had him, though, they agreed that they had to use him, somehow, to expose Hester Thorne and the Alliance. Beyond that, they were still in the dark.

  “Well,” Jordan sighed, walking away from the fireplace and pacing the room slowly, “I guess there’s nothing more we can do for now except wait for Paula to come this evening.”

  “You’re all welcome to stay here for the day,” Coogan said.

  “May I make a suggestion?” Lizzie said.

  Everyone turned to her.

  “You said earlier, Jordan, that your cover was blown.” She turned to Coogan and smiled. “Accidentally, of course. Anyway, I think you’re right. It is blown. And I think it would be wise for you and Lauren to get out of that hotel as soon as possible. Especially if there are things in your room you don’t want to be discovered.”

  Jordan felt his knees weaken. She was right. They might have searched the room by now. If they had, they’d found the phone-tapping equipment. If that were the case, they were finished. In tapping Hester’s phones, they had committed a felony, and if they were caught in the act, Hester would have them out of her way in no time.

  He turned to Lauren and said, “Let’s get the hell over there now.”

  Marvin drove them to the hotel and dropped them off. Jordan and Lauren went in holding hands, giving one another an encouraging squeeze now and then as they tried not to rush up to their room. They were both afraid of what they might find, afraid they might somehow draw attention to themselves.

  No one seemed to find them worth a second look. A few people smiled at them in the lobby, but that was all.

  In the car, Jordan had told Lauren to say nothing in the room, so once they were inside and the door was closed, they began to pack in silence. Marvin gathered up the equipment, put it in its case, then filled his suitcases.

  It seemed to take forever, but they were actually done in minutes and went straight to the elevator. In the lobby, they stopped at the desk. He assured the young woman at the desk that they were perfectly satisfied with the hotel’s service, but a family emergency had come up and it was necessary for them to leave. Then he handed her the credit card Fiske had provided for him. It was in the name of Lorne Cusack. The card was what worried him most. Now that Fiske was dead,
he didn’t know if it would be accepted.

  He wondered if he looked frightened, if the woman could hear his heart beating as she ran the card. She smiled at him, imprinted the card and handed him the transmittal. He sighed as he signed it, relieved. When the woman was finished, she wished them well and they picked up their bags and headed out the door.

  They didn’t see the young blond man who stepped out of the rest room that was across from the front desk near a bank of pay phones. His name was James. He was one of Hester Thorne’s constant companions. He was on a break at the moment and had intended to change clothes, take a walk and get a bite to eat. Until, that is, he saw the man and woman leaving the hotel with their luggage. James rushed to the desk.

  “Jessie!” he hissed.

  “Oh, hi, Jimmy. How’s it—”

  “Jessie, who were those people?”

  “What? Who was who? What people?”

  “Those people who just checked out. The man and woman.”

  “Oh, those were the Cusacks. They’re from, uh—” She checked the slip before her. “—Santa Barbara.”

  “Oh, no they’re not,” he muttered, reaching over the counter. “Give me the phone.”

  “Huh? What’s the matter? They were nice pe—”

  “Just give me the phone!”

  She lifted it onto the counter and he quickly punched three numbers. “This is James. I need to speak to Ms. Thorne, please. It’s urgent.”

  Jessie frowned, concerned now. She leaned her elbows on the counter and, while he waited on the line, whispered, “What’s going on?”

  He turned away from her, waited a moment longer, then: “Ms. Thorne? There’s something I think you should know. …”

  6.

  They spent the first part of the afternoon listening to the telephone conversations that had been recorded by Marvin’s tapping equipment. Most of them were innocuous business calls or queries from people interested in the Alliance. There were two, however, that were not innocuous at all.