Abel Baker Charley

by John R. Maxim

  “Abel, get back, damnit. He's bluffing.”

  “Jared? Jared, what's wrong?”

  She was going toward him. He could see through a wet haze that she was reaching for his face and holding it. Her eyes were wide. Stunned. Afraid. Someone's shouting. Harrigan. He's yelling something about those two in the park.

  “Jared!” Her voice was almost a scream.

  “Stop it, Abel. I can't hear . . . What? What's Harrigan saying about the park? Names? What names? The two with knives! ... I don't know their names. How would I know? . . . Abel! Stop! Come on, Baker. Hold on! You're starting to get lighter. You're drifting ...”

  Tanner was shaking him, pressing him backward toward a chair.

  “Tanner, don't. That'll make him mad.”

  Her hand was cool against the back of his neck. It slowed the drifting. But then he saw Harrigan's face appear near hers, and Abel lunged again.

  Harrigan's face was afraid for the first time. He must have seen it. Harrigan looks like he wants to run, but he's staying there. Come back, Baker, he's saying. And he's still asking about those names. “Charley? What's he talking about? Abel, shut up. Let him answer.” Hold on, Harrigan yells. I'm going to help you, lad. Hold him back. Tanner's face doesn't know why he's yelling that. Arm stings. Harrigan did something to my arm. It stings. Tanner knows it stings. She's looking at the place where my arm hurts and trying to pull out a little silver thing that Harrigan put there ... and Harrigan's pushing her away.

  Baker felt the drift stopping. He was just floating now. Sinking. He could feel his body losing buoyancy. Easing downward into an almost liquid warmth. And she watched him, calling him as he floated, but her voice was getting farther and farther away. She's crying. And now there's just her voice, and now even that's gone. There's nothing. Just the long blue tunnel. Swirling slowly, going down. Slow and easy. Oh, Tanner! Liz! You saw it.

  Baker fainted.

  On the street below, Tom Dugan had left the blue Oldsmobile and was standing in the shadow of a small service alley near the Essex House. It was full daylight, although the streets and sidewalks remained nearly empty. Except for one white van. It had already passed twice, too slowly. If it passed again, he wanted room to move.

  Ten minutes went by and he could see it. Only its front end was visible as it waited out a Sixth Avenue light before turning east again in his direction. He thought he heard a car door slam up there. His service pistol was already in his hand.

  The light changed and the blinking van continued its turn. MIDTOWN OFFICE SUPPLIES, it read. It approached the Oldsmobile slowly, but this time it did not pass. Dugan crouched. Abruptly, a rear door swung open, and Dugan heard two feet slap against the damp pavement. A parked truck blocked his vision. Dugan waited.

  “Boom!” A voice came from the van.

  Dugan steadied his weapon.

  ”I surrender,” came the voice. A white handkerchief waved above the door.

  “Who's that?” Dugan called. “That you, Biaggi?”

  Smiling, hands raised, Michael Biaggi stepped away from the van and showed himself over the parked truck's hood. “What do you think this is, Gunsmokel Come on, we got relieved.”

  Dugan hesitated. “Why have you been cruising in that thing?”

  “Dropping off our relief, dummy. Let's go. Harrigan's already down at the Federal Building. Leave your keys in the Olds.”

  Tom Dugan was still unsure. There was always something funny about Biaggi. He wasn't sure Connor Harrigan liked him that much either. “What the hell's going on?” he asked. “And who relieves Connor Harrigan's people?”

  “Right at the top. Come on. Mr. Harrigan wants to see the look on your face when you hear about our new job.”

  Dugan held back for another beat before he holstered his Colt. “The keys are in it,” he said and stepped quickly toward the open van. Biaggi followed and closed the double doors behind them.

  There was only one seat inside in addition to the two in front. Biaggi's topcoat sat on the rearmost. Dugan passed it by.

  “Who's driving?” Dugan asked.

  “Say hello to Ed Burleson. He's Special Operations.”

  Dugan climbed into the front passenger seat and strapped himself in. He turned to extend a hand to the man next to him. “Special Operations?” he asked. “No offense, but I didn't think Connor Harrigan ever worked with .. .”

  The man's grip was crushing. Dugan's brain lingered on that message, not wanting to accept the next. Something thin and almost invisible had winked down across his face and kissed against his collarbone before it slid against his throat and tightened. He felt his tongue leap forward and then his eyes. He argued with his brain. This could not happen. That was Mike Biaggi back there. Even Biaggi wouldn't. . .

  Tom Dugan was the third to die. An hour earlier, Warren Bagnold had convulsed once more and then was still.

  The tunnel was slowing. Stopping. The blue spirals faded into gray shadow and there was nothing again. Not even memory. There, he floated for a while and he was happy. The place was warm and dark and no thoughts came to him. But the peace didn't last. Soon, too soon, he was rising again. He did not want to come back. But then he saw that her face was there waiting. And it was different. Not frightened now. Curious, and caring, and growing bigger as he drew close. She was saying something. ”... eerie.” It sounds like “eerie.”

  ”... hear me? Jared? Can you hear me?”

  ”... eer .. . me. Liz ... Yes .. ” He pushed through all but the last wisps of fog like a diver breaking the surface. One hand went to his arm. There was a soreness. A small lump below his shoulder. Both arms felt so very heavy.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice thick and distant.

  Harrigan moved into focus, the yellow tranquilizer dart rolling between his outstretched fingers. “You were right on the edge, lad. It seemed wisest that you rest for a while.”

  “How long ... Did I do anything?”

  “You just slept,” Tanner Burke answered. “You even smiled once. You called me Liz.” She looked down at the hand she was holding and then again into his eyes. “Jared,” she whispered, “Mr. Harrigan told me about you.”

  Baker looked away. “He told you what about me?”

  “Most of what I know,” Harrigan answered, “about Jared Baker, anyway. How it began, what happened to your family, and about this thing you do. She knew what you'd done in the park, Jared. She was trying to believe it was a dream.”

  “Why?” he asked hoarsely. “Why didn't you leave it that way?”

  “Because like I keep telling you, she's involved. And there are people who'll be nervous about what she might know. We can keep her from harm, Baker, if we help each other. And believe it or not, I'd even like to help you.”

  ”I don't need you, Harrigan,” he said quietly, pulling himself to an upright position on the couch.

  “You haven't heard my offer.”

  “If you want to deal, we'll deal about Tanner. I don't need your help for the rest of it.”

  “My offer is this,” Harrigan said patiently. ”I will not ask you to betray any person who is in hiding. Nor will you be asked to testify against anyone at all. Moreover, I will help you to be with your daughter anyplace of your choosing in the Western Hemisphere. That's what you get, lad. Freedom, peace, and protection for Jared and Christina Baker.”

  Harrìgan felt something from Tanner Burke when he said the last. He glanced at the back of her head and then at Baker. “You can build any life you like, Jared lad.”

  Baker felt it too. He didn't look at her. Whatever future he had, he could not let himself imagine that it might include her. This was not a time for fantasies. And even if it were more than a dream, even if they both shared the dream, it was impossible. But that dream was what that bastard Harrigan was trying to sell. As for Tina, though, I will be with her. With or without you, Harrigan. Around you or over you.

  ”I said I don't need you, Harrigan.”

  Tanner Burke sat besid
e him, her hand still on his. “Jared, listen to him,” she urged softly. “At least hear him out. It doesn't hurt to ask what he wants from you.”

  Baker looked up at Harrigan and waited.

  “Knowledge,” Connor Harrigan answered. “Knowledge and friendship.”

  “Which means?”

  ”I want to understand you,” he said. ”I want to know how you are possible. I want to know why you exist and why the others exist. I want to know what you can do now and what you might do. I want to know why there are people who fear you, and especially why they fear Sonnenberg.”

  “And after you have your evidence?”

  ”I said knowledge, Baker. Evidence and knowledge are not the same. Evidence is slower.”

  Baker waited again.

  ”I mentioned friendship,” Harrigan added. “Friends stay in touch. Now and then they do each other favors.”

  Baker nodded. It was about what he expected. “You're not stupid, Harrigan,” he said. ”I think you know I have a place to go and it's not likely to be that houseboat. You haven't told me why I need you.”

  Tanner Burke touched his thigh. “Do you care what I think?”

  “Yes.” More than you could know.

  “You might need someone who understands the people who want to hurt you. Someone like Harrigan. You're just not like them, Jared.”

  ”I can handle anyone I have to, Liz.” He tried to say it in a way that did not sound brutal.

  “Except for that thing inside you.”

  Baker heard the loathing in her voice when she said that word. He'd expected it. But he'd hoped he'd never hear it.

  ‘That isn't true,” he said with a trace of sadness. “He came out when we were in the park because I called him out. I wanted to help you and so did he, even if our reasons were different. When he was finished, I sent him back. I'm not crazy, Tanner. And this is not some sickness. This ‘thing’ is simply a part of me that I've learned to use. Even you have a …” He chose not to finish the thought.

  Harrigan looked up from the pipe he was packing. “I'm afraid it was him who was using you, lad. Do you remember just before I stuck you? When this friend of yours was trying to get out?”

  “He wouldn't have.”

  “All the same, at that moment do you remember me asking you a question about the park? About the two men there?”

  ”I think so.” Baker blinked.

  ‘Try to remember. I asked you several times.”

  ”I remember. You kept asking me their names. I have no idea what their names were.”

  Tanner Burke looked from Harrigan to Baker and back again. There was confusion in the tilt of her head. She recalled no such question. Certainly not a repeated question.

  “You're sure now?” Harrigan pressed. “You don't remember their names?”

  “They called each other nicknames. One was Jace or maybe Chase. The big one was called Sumo. Why does this matter?”

  “It matters because the one called Jace or Chase happens to be the only son of one Domenic Tortora.”

  Baker's eyes flashed. Tanner felt his shoulder muscles go taut.

  ”I take it you know the name.”

  “That's not possible.” Baker seemed thunderstruck. ”I didn't even know he had a son.”

  “It's not only possible, it's a fact. You've attacked and severely injured the son of a man who's been dogging you since you jumped bail. You found him at night, in the middle of a very large park, within two hours of your arrival in one of the biggest cities in the world. Food for thought, isn't it? And what do you suppose Mr. Tortora is thinking?”

  “You're both thinking I must have known he was there. I didn't. And that either means a hell of a coincidence or I was set up.”

  “My view exactly. Would you like to know who set you up?”

  Baker waited.

  “It was your violent friend.”

  “He'd never do that. He'd never hurt me.”

  “He didn't hurt you. He hurt them. All he did was get you to deliver him there. All he had to do was get you to stroll through the area where the young scamp had laid hold of his victim.” Harrigan apologized to Tanner with a bow of his head.

  “You're wrong, Harrigan.” Baker pushed up from the couch and began to pace. “He wouldn't have known a thing like that was happening.”

  “He would if he could read their minds.”

  Baker stiffened. “He can't do that.”

  “Charley?” Baker called the name silently.

  “For true, Mr. Baker?” Harrigan asked.

  “It's the truth, Harrigan. Depend on it. CHARLEYl”

  “Then who can read minds, Mr. Baker?” Harrigan struggled not to show his excitement. “Someone can read minds. Someone is telepathic. If it isn't the violent one, who is it?”

  “No one is telepathic,” he lied. Baker stood drumming his fingers on the mantel of a false fireplace. A small mirror hung above it between two sconces. He moved toward the mirror.

  “But it keeps happening, doesn't it, Baker? Let me count the ways. In California, you knew if I got too close. It now appears that you've known my name for some time as well. You knew that I was out there on the landing. Maybe you even knew about the guy in the cop suit before he jumped me. Next, you knew he was a fake and that his pockets were empty when I'm the one who searched him with my back to you. I think you even know who sent him.9’

  Baker didn't answer.

  “The guy had a number he was supposed to call after he iced maybe all three of us. You kept looking at his pad. But you weren't sure it was there until after I spotted it. You knew when I knew, Baker. You read my mind.”

  “It isn't true.” Baker turned, looking not at Harrigan but at Tanner. “I'm a man,” he told her, “not some freak. Sometimes I know what people are thinking or feeling but just in little flashes. I'm like you, Liz. You do it too. Just tonight, you knew the name I gave you was wrong. There were other little things you sensed about me. I don't want you thinking I can get into your head or into anyone else's head who doesn't want me there.”

  Harrigan raised a hand before she could speak. “I've mentioned several ways, Baker. The next one is a peach. It has to do with the names of those two in the park. Have we established that you recall that question?”

  ”I remember,” he said absently, turning back to face the mirror.

  Harrigan faced Tanner Burke. “And what of you, miss? Do you remember me asking that question?”

  “Before you stuck him with that thing? No, I don't remember. I don't think you did ask.”

  “Mr. Baker.” Harrigan clapped his hands together. “Why do you suppose Miss Burke can't recall a question that you and I know was asked right in front of her?”

  Baker stared at the mirror.

  “It's because I asked that question only in my mind, Mr. Baker.”

  From across the room, Baker could almost feel the chill that went through Tanner. He kept his back to her, his eyes locked upon his image in the mirror.

  “How, Charley? How did you know they'd be in the park?”

  No answer.

  “Talk to me, Charley. Talk to me or I'll say your name out loud right here.”

  “you won't.”

  “Answer, Charley. If you don't, I'll let them ask you. You'll be all alone with them and they'll make you tellf Charley.”

  ”i didn't do anything.”

  “You told Abel those two were in the park. Why, Charley? Why did Abel want to hurt them?”

  “they were like the first one.”

  “First one? You mean the one who killed Sarah?”

  “yes. they even knew the first one.”

  Baker put aside his surprise. “So they wanted to get even with me. Is that it, Charley? You heard them thinking bad thoughts about me and you told Abel?”

  “no. they weren't thinking about baker then, only about tanner burke and vinnie cuneo and tortora.”

  Baker whispered Vinnie Cuneo's name aloud questioningly. The name meant nothing to hi
m. Harrigan heard the name and stiffened, not at the mention of a minor hoodlum but at the realization that a conversation was taking place in Baker's head. From his chair he could see half of the image facing Baker in the mirror. Its gilded fruitwood frame dissected Baker's face. The half that showed was slack and dull. It did not reflect the tension evident across Baker's shoulders.

  “Charley, if they weren't thinking about me, how did you know they were there?”

  “they were thinking tortora. that tortora might be mad at them for doing bad things to tanner burke, they would tell vinnie cuneo because he would laugh and say it was good, but they would not tell tortora because tortora wouldn't laugh.”

  “But how could you hear that, Charley? You know when people are thinking my name. You know when they're thinking Sonnenberg's name. But that's all you learned to do. You don't know when they're thinking other names. Do you know a new trick, Charley? Did Abel teach you another trick?”

  “no.”

  “What names can you hear, Charley?”

  “baker and sonnenberg just like now. sometimes tina. that man. he's thinking baker and sonnenberg now. that lady, she's thinking baker, baker and cooper shaw.”

  “Cooper Shaw?” he murmured. “That's a new name, Charley. Who's Cooper Shaw?”

  Tanner Burke's head snapped up at the sound of the name. She opened her mouth to speak, but Connor Harrigan slashed an open hand through the air, silencing her.

  “most times he 's her boyfriend out where she lives, sometimes she lived with him and slept with him and everything, she did things in bed with other men too. things like she didn't even want to do with baker, she's thinking how she liked cooper shaw better than you. she's thinking—”

  “Shut up, Charley!” Baker was livid. “What goddamned business is that of—and why, goddamn it, are you saying it?”