Tanner looked at him uncomprehendingly at first. Then she turned and moved toward the bathroom door.
“Where are you going?” he snapped.
“I'm going to get Jared out of this town and hide him until you can do your job, Harrigan.”
“Baker can hide himself very nicely, believe me. Except he won't go without his daughter.”
‘Then we'll get her.”
“Does that 'we' include you?”
“I'll get her myself if I have to. We know each other.”
Harrigan allowed himself a smile.
“Why are you smirking?”
“It's admiration.” He grinned. “You're a classy lady. Except you're getting damned near as spooky as Jared Baker. I'll ask you about that Tina Baker business later.” Harrigan pried the long gas pistol from his belt and hefted both weapons in his hands.
“What are you doing with those?” she asked, backing away.
“This one puts people to sleep,” he answered, “and this one cripples or kills. It's good you should see them. You have to know that I might use either and that people may die. You must also make up your mind that you'll do exactly what I say. Starting in ten seconds.”
“What's going to happen?” she asked uneasily.
“I'm going to interview whatever's in that bathroom. And I intend to live through the experience.”
He had no more than leaned toward the door when a sudden shriek echoed from the tiles inside. Even Harrigan flinched at the sound. It came again. A shrill, terrified “NOOO!” that washed over the room. Then a long desperate wail that sounded like Baker's name.
“Stay behind me.”
The howls came louder as Harrigan, both weapons leveled, took three long steps and smashed his shoe against the lock.
On the sidewalk, near the entrance to the New York Athletic Club, stood a clubbish-looking man of about thirty-five. One arm embraced a bulky golf bag that had Bancroft emblazoned on the side. He wore a three-piece business suit. A Georgetown class ring was on his hand.
A few car lengths away, a Buick with tinted windows had just crunched to the curb. He pretended to ignore it. From a device on his belt, three musical notes sounded. He turned to see the Buick's trunk yawn slowly open. The man waved toward the car as if in sudden recognition, then lifted the golf bag and carried it to the trunk. A rear door swung open on the sidewalk side, an invitation. He ducked inside and closed the door behind him.
“Good morning, sir,” he greeted the gray-haired man in the rear seat. ”I hope you had a nice flight.”
”A disingenuous salutation, Edward,” Duncan Peck replied, “from a man who roused me from the comfort of my bed just three hours ago.”
“I'm sorry, sir.”
Peck patted his knee. “Just grousing, Edward. This Harrígan business has me upset. Has that been attended to, by the way?”
”I don't know, sir. Hackett should have taken him out two hours ago and then put Baker to sleep. But there's been no sign of either since that time.”
“You sent one man after both Connor Harrigan and Jared Baker?”
“He was dressed as a uniformed policeman, sir. He should have been able to get close. And Hackett's very good at what he does.”
“Harrigan, however, is superb. And Baker is barely human. Your man is dead, Edward.”
That possibility had been troubling Burleson. He regretted equipping Hackett with Duncan Peck's phone number during his briefing. That was before Peck's decision to join them. Although an alternate contact was standard procedure, he chose not to mention it to Duncan Peck. Peck might think it untidy. Besides, Peck was correct. The man was almost certainly dead.
“Yes sir. That occurred to me. I now have four people covering the hotel, including Harrigan's man Biaggi. One of my operatives replaced Tom Dugan in Harrigan's car. I felt it necessary to sacrifice Dugan, sir. Michael Biaggi accepted the mission.”
Peck nodded his approval. “I'm sure you regret the Dugan matter as much as I do, Edward. One can't blame a man for loyalty to his superior. Dugan may have had no idea that Harrigan had turned. As for Biaggi, I'm afraid he can't be trusted much beyond today.”
“I'll see that housekeeping takes care of it, sir.” Ed Burleson hesitated, chewing his lip. “It really is too bad about Connor Harrigan, sir. I understand you two have been very close.”
Duncan Peck closed his eyes. “We go back many years,” he said sadly. “Looking back, Connor has always been something of a tilter at windmills. But a traitor? A conspirator? If any man had said so in my presence, I'd have knocked him down.”
”I guess the evidence is pretty strong, sir?”
“And very sensitive, Edward. I can well imagine you'd like to see it before carrying out so harsh an order. You're not a man to do this sort of thing casually.”
“An order from you is enough, sir.”
“You're a good man, Edward.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Give them another hour to get clear of the hotel or at least get clear of the actress. If they haven't appeared by then, you and your men will have to go in. Baker will have to be taken and the actress will have to vanish. You will be neat, won't you?”
“Yes sir.”
“How is my golf bag equipped?”
“Good sticks. They're Haig Ultras with aluminum shafts. The putter is a mallet type that might be a bit heavy for your touch. I'd suggest a shorter takeaway. In the shoe compartment, there's an Uzi with two extra thirty-round clips and a transceiver. There's also a sixty-power telescope in the umbrella sheath.”
“Excellent, Edward. I'll expect to see you and your men in the parking lot of the Westchester Country Club no later than noon. If you need to reach me, I'll be playing the front nine with a member named Blair Palmer. I assume you'll have completed this assignment successfully before the main event begins?”
“Yes sir. Count on it, Mr. Peck.”
“You're a very good man, Edward.”
“BAYKERR!” The scream seemed to surround Connor Harrigan. “BAYYYKERRR!”
“Sweet Mother of Christ!” he gasped.
Tanner Burke pushed against his shoulder from behind. “Oh, my God!” she cried. “Jared!”
“BAYYYKKERRRR!”
He was on the floor, his back pushed against the tile wall behind the toilet tank. One leg pumped against the floor in a useless attempt to shove his body farther from the figures at the door. The shower curtain was pulled as far as it would
reach across his chest. He held a fist-sized clump of it tightly against his mouth. His eyes were wide but not in focus.
“Stay back, miss.” Harrigan holstered his automatic and shifted the dart pistol to his right hand.
“But that's not even him yelling. Look at him. It's coming from ... It's ... it's just not him.”
“Just take it easy, lad.” Harrigan lowered the dart pistol slowly. Baker appeared not to notice. “It's just old Connor Harrigan. No one's going to hurt you, lad.” I don't fucking believe this, he thought. Baker looked like someone had let out half his air.
“Jared, what's happened to you?” Tanner wasn't sure whether she felt pity or disgust. “Did Harrigan do something to you?”
The figure on the floor cocked an ear, seeming to listen to a distant sound. Then he shut his eyes and answered her with three crisp shakes of his head.
“Is it me you're afraid of?” Tanner asked. Her voice was several tones too loud, as one would talk to the deaf or blind or feeble-minded.
He paused and cocked his head once more. His head shook once.
“Then who is it, lad? Who's frightening you?” Harrigan kept his voice slow and soft.
“Baker”
“Holy Jesus!” Harrigan backed up a step and reached a hand toward the space between them where the voice seemed to float. “Holy good Jesus Christ!” His voice rose. “There are three of him.”
“You said . . .” Tanner Burke swallowed and folded her arms tightly across her chest. “You said you were afraid of Baker ... D
oes that mean you're not Baker?”
“Charley.”
“You're Charley and you're afraid of Baker?”
“Tell him to come”
“If he can come, why doesn't he?”
“Because I wouldn't tell.”
Harrigan took a breath and let it out. Soundlessly, and without moving his lips, he formed the question: Charley. You're the one who can read minds. Isn't that right?
“No.”
“Yes you are,” he said aloud.
“Uh-uh-uhhh!” Charley answered in a singsong.
“Charley, you just did. You just read my mind.” Perspiring now, Harrigan moved a step closer.
“Noooo.”
“Then what did you do?”
”I listened!’
“Does that mean you can hear me whether I speak or not?”
The question seemed to confuse Charley. “It's the same,” he answered finally.
“And because you listen, you know things that Baker doesn't know?”
“Yes.”
“Like what, Charley?”
“Stanley turned into butter and the tooth fairy is sad because the cupboard is bare and Sonnenberg won't let him shoot Goldilocks.”
“What?”
“AndIknowZ, Y, X,W,V,U...”
Harrigan turned to Tanner Burke. ”I don't suppose you can make any sense out of that.”
Tanner wrung her hands. “Ask him . . .” She stopped. ”I don't know where to start. I want to ask him why all this is happening. There are so many pieces. I mean, I thought last night was just one of those things that happen in New York and I was lucky that Jared was there. But now I find out I know Jared's daughter. I feel like he told me that, but I know he didn't. And I find out that Jared knows about Cooper Shaw and that those two in the park knew Jared and that he—a part of him—knew them.”
“Ask him.” Harrigan shrugged. “Ask him about Cooper Shaw.” He knew it wasn't the most pressing question they could ask, but he was curious himself. Anyway, it might get the ball rolling.
Tanner hesitated. She was blushing deeply. “Charley, what about Cooper Shaw? Who is he?”
Charley pointed a bent finger. “He was laying down with . . ” Charley flinched. His face jerked as if he'd been slapped. He seemed to sulk for several seconds and then said. “That doesn't make the ball roll.”
Harrigan's eyes widened. “Apparently we're expected to ask more penetrating questions,” he said.
“Ask him about the park. Ask him about the two men.”
Harrigan nodded. “Did Jared know Jace and Sumo... that John Tortora and Warren Bagnold would be in the park?”
“Not Jared Baker”
“Baker? We have to call him Baker? All right, Charley. Did Baker know they'd be in the park?”
“No.”
“Then how did he find them?”
”I knew. I heard them.”
“What did you hear, Charley? Were they talking about Baker?”
“No. Mostly her. I heard her too before that. She was thinking about Baker.”
Tanner shook her head. “That's not true. I swear I never heard of Jared Baker before.”
Harrigan nodded that he believed her. “There must be a faster way to do this,” he said, easing himself to the tile floor. He splayed out his legs in a posture approximating Charley's and affected a pleasant grin. Charley returned it. “Charley, my friend, you're saying that you knew all three were in the park but Baker did not. How did you know?”
”I heard them while Baker took a walk.”
“Do you mean you can hear anyone at all from any distance?”
“No. Only from where they could yell loud.”
“What does that mean, Charley? Does it mean you can hear from a block or two away, for example?”
“Yes.”
“You can hear anything being said or thought by anyone within two blocks of you?”
“No.”
Harrigan shook his head and glanced up at Tanner. “This isn't faster after all. I don't know how much time we have, but apparently we have to pump questions at him until we hit the right ones.”
”I think he's saying that he can only hear certain people. Charley,” she asked, still with a distasteful curl at her mouth, “who is it that you can hear within this yelling distance?”
”I can hear when they're talking about me or Baker or Abel or Sonnenberg. Sometimes Tina”
“My gosh, that's right.” Tanner clapped her hands. ”I remember now, thinking about Tina Baker. It was just for a minute. Tina's written to me off and on for about three years, and I thought of her when I was daydreaming about when I used to ski Stratton Mountain here. I knew Tina was recovering from an accident, but I never knew the rest of it. I had an impulse to call or visit while I was here, but I couldn't remember the town. That's all of it.”
Harrigan waited her out. It was interesting enough, but he was more interested in who else Charley could hear.
“Charley, who is Abel?” he asked.
“He's the one who's always mad.”
Abel, Baker, and Charley! Jesus! “Abel is the one who hurts people and he's a part of Jared Baker?”
“Yes.”
“The two in the park. You heard them talking about Baker?”
“No.”
“Who were they talking about?”
“Sonnenberg.”
“They know Sonnenberg?”
“Yes.”
“What were they saying about Sonnenberg?”
“That he'd be mad if he found out about them grabbing Hollywood but that Vinnie Cuneo would think it was funny. They would tell Vinnie Cuneo all about it the next time he bragged about what he does with girls he knows who make suck-and-fuck movies. When the camera stops, he ties them up and—”
“That's enough, Charley,” Tanner snapped. Charley's fist flew to his mouth.
‘Thank you, Charley.” Harrigan smiled. He shook his head as if to clear it and cocked an eye up at Tanner Burke. She was just as stunned. Her eyes were still wide open, fixed upon the flabby mass that was Charley. Hugging herself, she lowered her body to the bathroom floor. “This is really happening, isn't it?” she asked weakly.
Harrigan felt for his pipe. ”I don't think we both went insane at precisely the same moment.”
“Well, what do you make out of all this?”
“Oh, we've only just tapped the keg. Offhand, I'd say that your friend Jared Baker knows perfectly well what's going on. I think he wants some more information, or wants us to have it, and he's going to leave old Charley out here until we dig it out of him.”
“What kind of information?”
“For starters, how the one called Abel set him up. He apparently did. It's clear that Baker doesn't know everything these two know unless they tell him.”
“Can Jared hear all this, do you think?”
“Who knows?” Harrigan shrugged. ”I have an idea that he and Abel might be having a showdown while we're out here entertaining Charley. Which reminds me ... Charley, I gather you can't call Abel yourself. Can I assume he stays where he is and behaves unless Baker calls him?”
“Most times.”
The hair on Harrigan's neck went up. “Most times,” he repeated. “Charley, could this be one of those times when Abel might decide to join us?”
“No. Just when Baker's drunk.”
Harrigan whistled, relieved. ”I must drink a toast to Baker's temperance very soon. Who is this Cooper Shaw, by the way? I gather you're acquainted.”
She looked at her hands for a long moment and then toward Charley, half-expecting that he'd be waiting eagerly for her reply. His face was blank, staring into space. She turned toward Harrigan, avoiding his eyes. Harrigan thought she might cry.
“Is it something you don't want Baker to hear?” he asked gently.
“It's not . . .” She stopped. ”I just don't want him to think.. r
Harrigan understood. “Baker's no kid, Miss Burke. He doesn't think you sprang into exis
tence an hour before you met him. People do foolish things during their lives. Baker, no doubt, has been as foolish as any of us.”
Tanner appreciated Harrigan's kindness. But it was nothing like that. No black secret from the past. Just a boyfriend and lover, the latest of ... She shook away the number before it could form. The latest of not very many, she thought. Anyway, none of that was the point. The point was that she'd remembered lying in bed with a snoring actor named Cooper Shaw on the morning of the last day that she'd ever be with him. She lay there thinking about her life and what parts of it were worth keeping and whether she'd ever find a man worth holding on to. And as she remembered that morning she thought about Jared. And Baker saw what she remembered. Or Charley did. And Charley told him. Charley would always tell him, wouldn't he?
“Miss Burke.” Harrigan touched her. “We have to get on with this.”
“Let's talk about somebody else,” she said.
He nodded. “Charley,” he asked, “how is John Tortora involved with Marcus Sonnenberg?”
Charley did not answer. He stared blankly past Harrigan's head.
“Can you tell me that, Charley? I want to know what the connection is between the Tortora family and Dr. Sonnenberg.”
Charley blinked, but there was still no reply.
“I'm not sure he can give opinions,” Tanner whispered. “Maybe he's like an idiot savant. Maybe he can give information but can't deal with an abstraction.”
“Good thinking, but where to start? He says that Baker didn't know John and Warren and they weren't worried about him. They were worried about Sonnenberg finding out what they did to you. It's obvious that John and Warren must have been exposed to Sonnenberg, but it's a difficult association to imagine. He's too cultivated a man. The connection must be between Sonnenberg and John Tor-tora's father.”
“Charley, Sonnenberg and Domenic Tortora know each other, don't they?”
“Yes.”
“Jackpot! Are they friends, Charley?”
“No.”
“Do they work together?”
Charley blinked again and hesitated. “No.”
“But they do know each other. What sort of things do they talk about? Do you know that?”
Charley smiled with the look of a child who was being teased by grownups saying silly things. “They don't talk” He giggled.
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