Fire In The Mind: Leonard Wise Book 1

by Arjay Lewis

  McGee smiled. “How would you know that was impossible unless you rented the office under the name of Doctor Leonard Wise?”

  “What?” I said, stunned.

  “A little tidbit I was saving, Doc,” McGee stated. “Funny how the paperwork said Leonard Wise, but the realtor gave me a description that fits you, Jack.”

  “I look like a lotta guys, McGee. You said yourself there is someone walking around claiming to be me,” he sneered.

  McGee walked through the office, looking around, then he gave a know-it-all smile to Hallman. “I think your usefulness to the Nova Corporation is about to come to an end. Considering how Roswell ended up, I think you know what happens to people who are no longer useful.”

  Hallman grew pale.

  “I’ll give you a list of people who wore out their welcome, see if it clicks in your memory: Philip Mishan, Wendy Wallace, and now Roswell Norris.”

  Hallman’s color faded even more.

  “So, if you know something about the Nova Corporation or the abduction of Jennifer Baines, you’d better tell me, because you have a better chance of staying alive if you work with me.”

  I spoke up. “We’re looking for a man my height, dresses in black, and wears sunglasses due to a sensitivity to light.”

  He avoided my eyes, which made me unable to reach into his mind. I was angry at this point. I wanted to turn him to face me, make him meet my eyes, force him to experience the images of Wendy bursting into flames, of Philip Mishan falling and burning, of Roswell Norris’s charred corpse.

  “I don’t have anything to say,” Hallman said, but his bluster was gone.

  “We need a name, Hallman, and a place. We think he’s holding the lady there,” McGee said.

  “I don’t know anything,” Hallman said. “All I was doing for Nova was regular corporate stuff.”

  “Including picking up large insurance checks for all those fires, right, Jack?” McGee said.

  “If you have a problem with Nova, you should talk to them.”

  “You’re their agent,” McGee said. “How do I get in touch with them, and who the hell is in charge?”

  “John Gingold,” Hallman replied.

  I felt a chill go up my spine. I could perceive the rightness of it. Why didn’t I see it sooner? His name glowing on the paper, the attraction I had for it the first time I’d seen it.

  “John Gingold,” I muttered in annoyance. “Also known as Jack.”

  Hallman turned to me. “I don’t know his nicknames—or aliases, if he has any. He’s a big investor from the Bahamas.”

  “He’s taken a hostage,” I said, and Hallman finally met my eyes. “She was the insurance adjuster on Mishan’s store.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” he said, just as I pushed into his mind and made contact. I saw images of Gingold in this very office. He sat with his imperial style as if he were a king holding court.

  “I met Gingold,” I said, and I didn’t allow him to break eye contact. “He claimed to be you.”

  “Yes,” he said, confused why he couldn’t look away. I could sense that he was moving into a light trance.

  He’s too sensitive. If I do anymore, he’ll fall asleep or slip into a hypnotic state, I thought.

  McGee helped without knowing it. He grabbed Hallman by the arm, which startled him into full awareness.

  “I need a place, Hallman,” McGee insisted. “I need to know where he is and where he could be holding her.”

  “What?” Hallman said, turning red. He glanced at me as if to say, “What just happened?”

  “Look, I’ve got your description as the signer of the lease on the office that exploded. Today, forensic evidence will prove it was arson. I got enough right now to arrest you.”

  “Look, McGee. I only have two addresses for the corporation. A post office box in the Bahamas and one in Upper Mountainview.”

  “And what are the odds that you rented the box in Upper Mountainview?” McGee said.

  “I opened it, sure! It’s what lawyers do. It wasn’t illegal,” he argued with an exaggerated shrug.

  “So, how do you get in touch with him?” McGee barked, his patience wearing thin.

  “He calls me when he wants me,” Hallman said. “That’s the way he does things. Look, Detective, I just act as an agent of the corporation.”

  “Did you fill out his certificate of incorporation?” McGee said. “Do you know that everyone on that paper beside Gingold is dead?”

  “And you have to know about the insurance claims,” I added.

  “I told you, it’s all privileged conversation, and everything I did was legal,” Hallman said.

  “You really are one stupid-ass guy,” McGee said. “He’s going to get away and leave you to take the heat, if you’ll pardon the expression. Look, Hallman, your only hope of staying out of jail is to give me every scrap of paper you’ve got on this clown.”

  A very dangerous clown, I thought.

  “Detective,” Hallman said, “you’ve got the goddamn warrant.Find it yourself!”

  “Galland!” McGee bellowed, as he grabbed Hallman’s arm roughly and shoved him toward Officer Galland. “Kindly escort Mr. Hallman downstairs and have Officer Booker take him to the station.”

  “I want my lawyer,” Hallman said.

  “Don’t annoy me, Hallman, or I’ll have Galland cuff you,” McGee said as he passed the small man over to Galland. “But I’ll tell you one thing, Hallman. This lady ends up dead, and I guarantee you’re going down as a co-conspirator for murder one.”

  “I told you, Detective, I don’t know anything,” Hallman said as he was pulled by Galland out the door.

  “Work on your memory, Hallman,” McGee shouted after him. “And think about what I said about people ending up dead. You might just want my protection.” Then, as an afterthought, he called after Galland as they reached the elevator. “And Galland, get your ass back up here. I’ll need you to work on his computer.”

  “You want Galland to check his computer?” I asked. “It’s probably encrypted.”

  McGee smiled. “Galland was a serious hacker a few years back. Fortunately, he’s on our side, and the warrant allows us to go through his computer. Whatever it is, Galland can get past it.”

  McGee went to one of the wood—oak file cabinets and pulled out a drawer. “Shall we go for the obvious?” he said, extracting several thick files, and starting to go through the papers. I joined him, and McGee gave me a portion.

  “There are a lot of insurance policies,” I said.

  “And lots of correspondence with insurance companies,” McGee added as he held up a stack of papers with a large metal clip at the top.

  “And all of the policies are for fire; no theft, no flood, just fire,” I said as I went through my stack. “I doubt there will be any papers mentioning a secret lair.”

  “Yeah, if you find one marked ‘Hidden Lair,’ let me know,” McGee said. “In the meantime, write down the properties insured by the policies. That’s a start.”

  McGee and I started taking notes as Galland returned with a small device in his hand.

  “What’s that, Officer?” I asked.

  He held up a flash drive. “My own special brand of software. I load it in, and it makes accessing hidden files a lot easier,” Galland said. He sat at the laptop and inserted the device in the USB port.

  “Your own special brand?” I asked.

  “He writes the code himself,” McGee said without looking up from his stack of papers.

  “He writes…” I said, then turned to Galland. “Wow!”

  McGee and Galland chuckled together as Galland sat at the desk, doing a few things that looked like magic to me. He flew past the risqué screen saver and quickly through the password lockout. He then began to load the program he’d inserted.

&nb
sp; “What do you need, sir?” Galland asked.

  “See if you can find any references to properties held by Nova Corporation,” McGee said, his eyes fixed on his work.

  “Try to look for a building with a view,” I said.

  “A view?” McGee repeated, his eyes meeting mine.

  “Yes, remember Janice Hoefler? She said Wendy’s boyfriend owned a place with a spectacular view of the city.”

  “But which city?” McGee said, picking up his handwritten list. “I mean, if it’s a view of New York, he could be in Jersey City or Hoboken.” McGee quickly scanned the list. “There’s a warehouse listed in Hoboken.”

  “I got the impression it was here in Mountainview,” I said.

  “We are a city of small buildings, Len. This building we’re in is one of the tallest.”

  I was close to something, an impression lurked just outside my reach, but it was too ephemeral to grasp. Something I’d seen, but couldn’t connect.

  “You lose your steam, Len?” McGee asked.

  I jumped a bit. “Oh sorry, I was close to something.”

  McGee lowered his voice. “Looked like you were close to drooling. If you’re going to conjure a vision or something, why don’t you go take a seat in the corner.”

  I nodded and put down the pile of papers. As Galland’s fingers went ticky-tack at the keyboard and McGee took notes and opened folders, I sat in a chair at the far end of the room and closed my eyes.

  I’m scared, I thought. Scared that I’m going to let Jenny down just like I let Cathy down—and Wendy.

  And they ended up dead, the voice in my head responded. I pushed the thought away. Fear would bring nothing, except to close me down. I wouldn’t be able to help her then.

  I focused on my breath and hummed, using a variation on an ancient Hindu form of meditation called Jappa. I was trying to change the vibration that my mind operated at, attempting to shift to the place where the information could come. I let go of my fear and allowed peace to descend on me.

  Flashes of light, all created in my own mind, sparked and shot like lightning. I could sense something, and it was close, agonizingly close.

  My skin grew cold when I felt something on my hand. It seemed to slither, leaving a trail of damp mucous as it moved. In my deep meditation, I slowly opened my eyes to see a black worm crawling up my hand. It was large, and it moved by compressing its body and pushing onward, expanding and contracting in its shambling, invertebrate way. As I looked at it, it lifted its body and opened a maw filled with tiny teeth.

  “AH!” I yelled, and jumped to my feet, my meditation broken.

  “What?” McGee said, turning to me.

  “You all right, Doctor?” Galland asked as he rose from the computer.

  The thing was gone. I stood there breathing hard as my heart attempted to thump its way out of my chest. My body, riding the rush of a sudden burst of adrenaline, was shaking.

  “I’m f-fine,” I said and swallowed to keep my last meal where it belonged. I touched my skin, but there was no trail, no slimy residue. It was entirely a vision. But what did it mean?

  “Any luck?” McGee asked.

  I glanced at my hand one more time, not sure that if I looked again, it would be back. “No, just crazy stuff. Maybe a message. I’m receiving, but not translating.” I sat next to McGee, still shivering, and picked up some papers.

  “Can’t you control it?” McGee asked. “Your information about last night—”

  “My conscious mind wasn’t trying to interpret,” I interrupted. “Right now, I’m worried about Jenny—and it’s getting in my way. And impressions come as they come. It’s up to me to figure it out.”

  “So, what did you see?”

  “A worm that bites,” I said, as I returned to the files and gave a shudder.

  McGee lifted an eyebrow. “How nice.”

  nineteen

  We stayed at Hallman’s about an hour, compiling a list of properties owned by Nova from the insurance policies. Many of the places had burned down, claims had been paid, and the extent of Nova’s financial gains from each transaction was becoming obvious.

  Finally, Galland had printed a list of properties he’d found on the laptop. McGee then called for backup to finish going through the office. We left Galland to continue his excursion through Hallman’s files as McGee and I returned to the police station where Jack Hallman waited.

  It was a short drive, but McGee was on the radio to the station to check on the officer who had been sent to pick up Denise Haskell for questioning.

  “The officer reports she’s not at her listed address,” the female voice on the radio responded.

  “Tell them to try the coffeehouse,” I said.

  McGee nodded and told the dispatcher to have the officer go to the Halfway House.

  The dispatcher asked one more question before signing off. “Detective McGee, is Doctor Leonard Wise riding with you?”

  “Yes, why?” McGee said into the microphone.

  “The LT told me to make sure he comes to the station with you. Do you copy?”

  “Ten-four,” McGee said, returning the microphone to its clip.

  “What was that about?” I pondered.

  “I have no idea,” McGee replied.

  He parked on Bloomdale Avenue, in the same spot as the other day, and as I got out of the car, I was again filled with an extraordinary sense that what I wanted was close, but I still didn’t have it.

  We walked into the side door of the MPD station, which brought us in past the locker room and the bunk rooms, where officers could catch a few hours of sleep when working multiple shifts. McGee led the way to the main corridor where we found Sergeant Tice, apparently waiting for us. Next to him was a man I didn’t know. He wore an MPD uniform, and I could plainly see the gold bars on his lapels.

  And next to him was another officer, who wore a brown and tan uniform from another district.

  “Here they are now,” Tice announced and looked at the lieutenant.

  The lieutenant studied me from head to toe, turned to the officer next to him, and said, “All right, cuff him.”

  “What?” McGee said, which stopped his headlong march. “Lieutenant Butler, what is this about?”

  The officer in tan stepped forward to block my path. “Doctor Leonard Wise, you are under arrest for arson and second degree murder.”

  The man came behind me and, in one quick move, took my cane from my hand, pulled my hands behind my back, and slipped a pair of cuffs on my wrists. I shifted my weight to stay upright.

  “LT, we should talk about this,” McGee said, his face growing red.

  “You gave me free access to your files, right, McGee?” Tice sneered. “When were you going to let someone know that this is the man who rented the suite where the fire started in that building in Orange?”

  “Look, McGee,” Butler said. “I don’t like this either, but this officer is from the Orange police and they have an arrest warrant.”

  Tice added, “And we’re happy to deliver him.”

  I stood silent and looked pleadingly at McGee.

  “It was a setup, LT. Look, Jack Hallman rented that office using Doctor Wise’s name,” McGee said.

  “You have proof of that? Maybe a signed confession?” Tice taunted.

  “What’s your proof, Detective?” Lieutenant Butler asked.

  “I got a description—verbal—from the man in the rental office,” McGee said. “And I questioned Hallman. I know when a suspect is trapped in a lie, sir.”

  “Then your doctor friend won’t be held long,” Tice said.

  Lieutenant Butler shook his head. “I have to go with Sergeant Tice on this one, Bill, sorry. If it’s all a frame-up, you should be able to get him out in a few hours.”

  The officer from Orange gave me a tug towar
d the door.

  I stumbled as I fought to stay upright.

  “He’s got a crippled leg!” McGee called out as he came over and helped me stand. “Can’t he just walk with you?”

  The officer looked at McGee, and it seemed the possibilities ran through his head. He was young, and I got the impression he was either inexperienced or not the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

  “I can’t do that, sir,” he finally responded.

  “Can you cuff his hands in front? At least then he can use his cane!” McGee said as his color rose again.

  “That sounds reasonable,” Lieutenant Butler pointed out, sensing the young man’s lack of expertise. “Unless you want to carry him to your vehicle?”

  Again, the officer took his time considering this proposition. He finally relented, and using the key, he opened the cuffs and moved my hands in front of me.

  “LT, we are in a hostage situation, and Doctor Wise had information that could make all the difference.”

  “What’s the matter, McGee?” Tice blurted. “Can’t handle your own case?”

  “We have to do this by the book, Bill,” Butler said, giving a nod to the officer, who tugged my arm again.

  I looked into McGee’s eyes and said quietly. “Find her, Bill. You have to find her.”

  “I will,” he said adamantly.

  As the young officer escorted me, I heard McGee say, “I’ve got the lawyer who claimed to be Doctor Wise in interrogation.”

  We went through the door, past the elevated desk in the main lobby and out onto the street. I used my cane as best I could to keep up, my mind racing. How long would it take to get out of this situation? Could I end up at the Orange police station for hours? All day? What would that creature do to Jenny?

  Images of Wendy’s body bursting into flames replayed in slow motion in my memory.

  The officer crossed Bloomdale Avenue with me in tow, heading to the small municipal lot where his cruiser, emblazoned with CITY OF ORANGE was parked. I allowed myself to be led, and hung my head like a puppy. Gingold and Hallman had planned this, with Tice happy to act on it and pull the lieutenant in for additional support.