Chapter 13
Baltimore, Maryland Sunday,
16 January
Glen grinned into the mirror beside the bed. He hung up the phone a few seconds after Janet hung up. He felt the hand of God on his shoulder. Loyalty, you could buy it, you could win it, you could earn it, but could you rebuild it when the faith was gone?
There was a pair of black pants in the closet that seemed a better match for the jacket he planned to wear. He removed and discarded the brown khakis he was wearing and put on the pair of pants from the closet. Beside the empty hanger was a two-foot leather cord which he folded into the left front pocket of the pants, then started down the stairs. He called out to Janet, “These pants all right, dear?”
She emerged from the den. He watched her hide her anxiety with a smile. “Yes, those definitely are better.”
He nodded to the jacket hanging on the coat rack in the foyer. He followed her as she walked to the front door. She helped him put on the jacket and brushed off the lint with her hands. She had the hands of an angel, her touch soft, hands smooth and cool as silk. She pressed up against him and kissed his cheek. He ran his right hand along her cheekbone, while his left hand caressed the leather cord.
There was an oak bench next to the front door. Glen sat on it and started to put on his shoes. “The keys are in the kitchen, will you get them?”
Janet walked into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink before we go? I could use one for the road, how about you?”
He tied his shoes quickly, and quietly made his way to the kitchen. She had the refrigerator door open and was rummaging around—probably looking for the wine he had finished off yesterday. He came up behind her, grabbed her around the waist with both hands, then swept her arms out spread eagle, pushing her body up against the refrigerator shelves and thrusting his own body tight against hers.
Janet moaned and twisted her head in an attempt to look at him. “I’m not in the mood.”
Glen thrust her head against the top shelf with one hand and with the other, lifted up her skirt. “I am.”
“But Cynthia—” “What do doctors know anyway?” He unzipped his pants with one hand, reached for the cord with the other.
“I want to be there, someone has to be there for her.” Janet started crying and sank to her knees.
Glen rubbed his fingers across the soft leather in his sweated hand. He eased the cord out slowly, wrapped one end around his left hand tight enough so he could feel the blood flow to his fingers ebb, then did the same to his right hand. He stretched the cord out taunt, heard the wonderful snap mix in with Janet’s sobs.
He kneeled down behind her, looking down at her as he did so and knowing in an instant he shouldn’t have. He didn’t want it to end this way. He wanted it to end the way it began. Why couldn’t it end the way it began? Why did she have to mess things up? Why did she have to break into tears now?
He closed his eyes, inhaled, and all the while, Janet’s sobs lashed at him. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he stood stiffly, stuffed the cord into his pocket and helped her to her feet. “I’ll drive. There’s a bottle of muscatel in the cabinet, I know you love muscatel. Get the bottle, I’ll get the corkscrew.”
***
The taxi pulled up in front of the gate. Scott glared into the security camera. The gates swung inward. The taxi started in and right then he was never so glad to see the oval driveway in his life. He had already taken fifty dollars out of his wallet and was mashing it in his hand. When he saw the steps, he didn’t wait for the cab to stop, he opened the door, jumped out and yelled to the driver, “Dump the luggage in the drive.”
He beat on the door until Edward opened it. Edward’s usual long, somber face looked even more somber. Edward said, “Sir, you’re home. Thank God.”
“Where is C?”
“The sitting room—”He swept past Edward, ran through the house. The door to the sitting room was closed. Scott thrust it open, didn’t slow down, and nearly knocked over Mr. Simons as he stumbled into a room filled corner to corner with hospital equipment. Dr. Haskins and Father Joseph were standing near the bed. He pushed past them to the bedside.
He didn’t see the wires or the machines keeping Cynthia alive.
He saw only Cynthia, the beautiful woman he had married. He grabbed her hand and wept into the layers of bandages covering her head. For a moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder, then later, someone pushed him into a chair. He sat, but didn’t let go of Cynthia’s hand.
Vaguely he heard the door open and close a few times. He heard voices as if through a dream—Glen’s, Janet’s, Mr. Simons’, Father Joseph’s, Dr. Haskins’, Edward’s. All the voices mixed into a rush of noise that made his head pound, then everything became quiet and only Mr. Simons was standing beside him. Scott looked up at him. “How long?”
Mr. Simons put his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “It’s only the machines, my baby is gone. I asked Dr. Haskins to shut them off.
We were about to do that when you arrived.”
Scott started shaking, a tremor that went from his feet to his clenched hands. “You what? What are you telling me? What gives you the right? What gives you the right?”
Scott reached out to grab Mr. Simons’ jacket by the lapels.
Mr. Simons took a step backward. “I’m her father. You can’t know how terribly hard this is.”
“How terribly hard?” Scott kicked at the chair beside him, sending it crashing into the wall. “I’m her husband, get out of my house! You plan to turn off these machines, you’ll have to kill me first . . .”
Mr. Simons tried to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. Scott backed away. Mr. Simons repeated, “It’s only the machines, my baby is gone.”
Dr. Haskins and Father Joseph started into the room. Scott glared at them through wild eyes and clenched teeth. They backed out. Scott looked Mr. Simons in the eye, unclenched his teeth, took a deep breath and forced the tremor to stop. “I want the nursing staff back from wherever you sent them. I want to see all of Dr. Haskins’ charts right after you fire the bastard. Now!”
“Scott, it won’t help anything, you can’t imagine—”“Oh, can’t I? If it won’t help anything, then it won’t hurt anything either, will it?”
“Scott—”“Screw you!” Scott pushed past Mr. Simons and walked into the hallway. He looked directly at Dr. Haskins. “Call the nursing staff, tell them to return, then get out of my house! Don’t ever come back, do we understand each other?”
Dr. Haskins turned to Mr. Simons. Mr. Simons nodded. As the doctor made a phone call, Scott walked over to the bewildered Father Joseph. “You were always Cynthia’s favorite priest. Say a prayer for her.”
Father Joseph loosened the grip on his bible. “I will, and for you as well.”
Scott gestured with his hands, pointing down the hall. “I’d leave now if I were you, follow Dr. Haskins. Edward will show you both out. Mr. Simons, why don’t you go with them?” It was more of an order than a request. “You’ll be the first to know if Cynthia’s condition changes, so you don’t need to come back or call. Clear on that?”
Edward, who was now standing behind Scott, grinned. “I should think so, sir.” Edward turned to Mr. Simons and the others. “Shall I show you gentlemen out? Mr. Simons, surely you know the way.”
As he walked away, Mr. Simons muttered, “Don’t forget who pays your salary, Edward.”
Edward replied, “Never, sir.”
Scott nodded absently and walked back to the sitting room.
Everything that happened afterward was a blur. He forgot about Helen, Jessica and everything else that had happened. The hours slipped away, the growing stubble on his cheeks the only thing that told him days were slipping away.
The nurse returned. He didn’t look up, but knew who it was because for the past three nights she said, “Good evening, Mr. Evers, I brought you some soup. Made it myself, chicken noodle.
I reckon it’s still right hot.”
He nodded a
bsently and held Cynthia’s hand a little tighter. “If you don’t start eating, we’re going to put you in a bed next to her.”
He beaded his eyes. “Maybe that’s where I want to be.” The nurse put a hand to her mouth, set the soup on the table beside him, then rushed out of the room. The smell of chicken soup wafted to his nose but he wasn’t going to let go of Cynthia’s hand, not just yet. He rose and kissed her cheek. With his free hand, he brushed back a little tuft of hair from her eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
He heard someone walk up behind him, didn’t respond to the purposefully spoken “Hello.” Instead he nodded to the soup and said, “Take it with you and get out of here!”
“You’re wasting precious time sitting here when the bastards who did this to her are still walking the streets.”
“I don’t give a damn about John Ellis Wellmen, I only want my life back!”
Glen grabbed Scott about the shoulders. “Keep your voice down. Your anger is self-defeating. He’s got you eating out of his hand. God, if only you could see that. You want your life back, take it back.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting on your thumb for the past three—”“My little excursion to Honolulu was a bust. I don’t have your instincts. I brought back the suitcases, I want you to look them over with me.”
Scott nodded to Cynthia. “I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”
“Janet’s in the hall, I’ll ask her to come in and sit with Cynthia.” Glen coaxed Scott to his feet. “It’ll be all right. You need to think about something else for a while.”
“Go screw yourself.”
***
Scott sat by the bed and tried not to listen to Janet. Glen had left the room in a huff and sent Janet in a few minutes later. When Scott couldn’t take her yapping anymore, he blew up at her and was now trying to make an apology. “I really do appreciate what you did, I really do—”
“I’m afraid of him, Scott,” Janet admitted. “He’s been acting like a caged animal the past few days. He stares at the walls. You know the leather-bound books that line the shelves in his library? He’s been collecting them all his life, and now he’s burning them in the fireplace. If you don’t want to help him, at least go talk to him.”
“You’re drunk, Janet. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I had a few glasses of wine to calm my nerves, that’s all.
Glen insisted.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Scott saw he was agitating her again and became apologetic.
“Nothing, nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it. You said yourself the color is returning to her face. I’m not leaving now—” He broke off when the nurse came in.
The nurse said, “If you eat the soup, I’ll bring something special tomorrow.”
He tried to smile. “I’ll eat the soup soon, I promise.” The nurse took the bowl from the nightstand. “Let me reheat it in the microwave, then you’ll eat. Right?”
He nodded. “I will.”
The nurse left. Janet said in a firm voice, “A few minutes won’t hurt, a few minutes of your time is all he wants.”
“Do you honestly believe I can trust him now after this?”
“He knows you too well, Scott, that is why he didn’t tell you. I was there when Dr. Haskins talked with Mr. Simons, I was. I was there when he made the decision to call Father Joseph, too. We all believed it was for the best.”
“But you told me the truth.”
Janet said quietly, “Think about what I said, Scott.”
He promised he would. Janet held his hand for a moment, then left. The night nurse returned with the soup. He watched her make her checks out of the corner of his eye.
The nurse said, “Mrs. Evers is getting stronger every day since you came home. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.”
He smiled at her as she left the room, but didn’t respond. He was sure she was just trying to get him to eat but he didn’t feel like eating at the moment. He might eat later when the aroma of the soup overcame his willpower, but the truth was that the smell made him think of times past.
In his mind’s eye, he saw Cynthia in the kitchen. Cynthia standing on the front porch waiting for him, always with a smile. The Friday nights they spent alone after he sent the staff away for the weekend. Saturday evening strolls in the moonlight. Sunday dinners on the patio. Cynthia lying in bed beside him, Cynthia who could reach into his mind and read his every thought.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
His heart skipped when he saw her lips move as if in reply. He sat wide-eyed for a long moment, dumbfounded and elated. Her lips moved again. He leaned in close. She said a single word, “E-eat.”
He smiled, frowned, then cried, couldn’t help but cry, tears of joy, sheer joy. He started whooping and hollering. Janet and the nurse came running into the room, their faces painted with alarm.
“She talked,” he shouted, “She talked! Get the doctor, call her father, tell the world!”
Chapter 14
Baltimore, Maryland Wednesday,
19 January
Scott didn’t feel right sifting through Jessica’s underwear, but that was what he was doing, and Glen was standing right beside him, waiting for a response to a question he wasn’t going to answer. “But how can you be certain the box hasn’t slipped out of the country already? It’s been three weeks. Three weeks for crumsakes.”
“My sources tell me it’s still in the states.”
“How can you be sure?”
“They’re very reliable sources.”
“This isn’t about fuzzy logic switching equipment, is it, Glen?”
Glen said with a straight face, “Of course it is.”
Scott threw Jessica’s lace bra at Glen. “Then why am I going through the stitching on a damn lace bra?”
“At the heart of the box is a microchip, a very small microchip.”
“What is programmed into this microchip? And don’t tell me any bullshit, because I don’t—” Scott broke off when Glen maintained the candid expression. “I’m going back down to Cynthia.”
“A few more hours. If it’s here, we have to find it, and if it’s not, we have to start looking again.”
“What’s programmed on the chip?”
“Trust me on this, Scott, even if you never trust me again, trust me on this. You don’t want to know.”
“If it’s so important, how can you be so sure it’s not already in the wrong hands?”
Glen sank uneasily to the floor. It was the first time Scott had ever seen the weight of Glen’s years upon him, but it was there now in his hunched shoulders, downtrodden eyes and sagging lids. He said two words, “Harry Johnson.”
“And?”
“He and I came into the agency together. He was older, I was younger. We had similar backgrounds but toward the end in ‘85, we didn’t see eye to eye on anything. He left the agency, went back to Florida. I stayed and picked up the pieces.” Glen ground his fist into the floor and added softly, “That was the year—”“So this is personal as well as—”“You’re damned right it’s personal. I killed Harry Johnson with my bare hands when I caught up with him a few years later.
Jessica knew, Helen didn’t, but either way it’s personal. One of them has what we’re looking for if for no other reason than spite itself.”
Scott collapsed to his haunches. “Jessica’s alive?”
“For the moment, I believe so.”
“And Helen?”
“I lost track of her when you lost track of her and she was the only one who could have led us to Jessica. When—if we find her now, it’ll be in a body bag. You can count on it. She was trying to sit on both sides of the fence—a dangerous game at best.” Glen looked Scott in the eye. “Five days is all we have left. I want you on a plane to Honolulu.”
“What happens
in five days? I thought we had more time, until the last week of January.”
“So did I.”
“One more day, that’s all I ask. I’ll leave Thursday morning.”
“One day.”
“And the underwear?”
“If it was here, we would have found it by now. Analysis didn’t find anything either.”
“Analysis? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Glen picked up the suitcase and threw it across the room, then reached down, grabbed Scott by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. He pointed to the wall. “There’s your answer.”
Scott pulled away. “What’s that supposed to mean? Glen, I’m not a mind reader.”
Glen leaned close and whispered in Scott’s ear. “Janet’s out.
That leaves you and me.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean it’s just you and me? This is bullshit, all bullshit. Go play your games with somebody else, I’m out.”
“Loyalty, Scott. It’s the most important thing. You can buy it, you can earn it, you can win it, but when the faith is gone it’s all over. Without loyalty, you can’t have trust, and without trust, you have nothing.” Glen paused, sucked at the air. “The house of cards is crumbling around us. I trust you, Scott. You’re the only one—and trust me, you don’t want out. It’s too late for that.”
Scott started to say something. Glen cut him off.
“What you want is to get even, what you want is in the other room waiting for you when this is over, but only when this is over.”
“Will it ever really be over?”
“It will, if you get the box before they do.”
“And then what?”
“Always thinking seven moves ahead, aren’t you?” Glen grinned awkwardly, showed Scott to the door. “Cynthia’s waiting. I’ll make your flight arrangements for Honolulu.”
Glen held out his hand to Scott. “Are we good?”
Pieces of the Puzzle Page 13