Burke's War: Bob Burke Action Thriller 1 (Bob Burke Action Thrillers)

by William F. Brown

  Greenway coughed and looked away. “All right, but what about the little girl? You can’t leave her up here alone, you know.”

  “With you around? For once in your life, I think you’re right. That new girl in accounting is coming up here to babysit her as soon as we leave.”

  “Patsy Evans? Oh, how yummy. You have given me a delicious incentive to hurry back, Anthony,” Greenway said with a thin crocodile smile.

  “Not so quick, Doc. One of my guys, Freddie, is going to be sitting right outside that door with a loaded 9-mil and orders to shoot you in the ass if you touch either one of them before I get back,” Scalese said as he pointed his finger at him. “You got that?”

  “Me? Anthony, how could you possibly think…?”

  “And if he doesn’t, I will!” Scalese’s angry eyes locked on Greenway’s. “But I’ll tell you what, Doc. Once this business is over, you can have Patsy as a special present from me; but not one minute sooner, you got that?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Lawrence Greenway drove his midnight-blue Mercedes SLK55 AMG roadster between the decorative fieldstone pillars and up the curving driveway at 242 Stanley Court in Winnetka. The car was the most expensive and powerful sports model Mercedes built, and the “Lunar Blue” color complemented his usual choice in suits. With a 416 horsepower V-8 engine, the lovely beast provided ridiculous overkill on the Chicago expressways, especially during rush hour, when everything slowed to a crawl. However, he loved the thrill of knowing the power was there if he wanted it; and he could take it out on the back roads of Kane County and blow out the pipes, his and the car’s. It cost almost $125,000 with all the optional toys he added, more than he made his first three years out of Med School combined, so why did he buy it? Why? Because he could. Greenway smiled to himself every time he thought about it. Because he could!

  He drove slowly around the beautifully landscaped turnaround, and parked in front of a large, impeccably designed English Tudor home, where he and the car could not be seen from the street. Looking up, he admired the house’s steep, slate tile roofs, leaded glass windows, exposed half-timber on the second floor, and the massive front entry. Pure class, he thought, and precisely the type of home he wanted for himself. The Mercedes was his latest personal upgrade, and a magnificent house like this would be the next. He'd call it ‘Lawrence 3.0;’ and he wondered if the house might be coming on the market anytime soon. It just might, he grinned.

  Parked ahead of him in the curved driveway was a huge, white, Cadillac Escalade war wagon. From his research, he knew it belonged to Angie Burke, which meant the “mistress of the house” must be home. When he got out of his Mercedes, he picked up his black leather “doctor’s bag,” and strode confidently up the semicircular granite stairs. The front door stood nine feet tall and was made of stout antique timbers, with a large, brass lion’s head doorknocker in the center. Amazing, he thought, as he raised the lion by its chin and let it drop onto its brass baseplate with a loud, echoing Boom! Greenway put his hand on the door and grinned as he felt the old wood vibrate. He was about to do it again when the door opened and a short, fat, Hispanic housemaid looked up at him. She wore a gray and white uniform and her raven hair was braided into a bun at the back of her head. “May I help you, Señor?”

  “My name is Greenway, Dr. Lawrence Greenway, and I’m here to see Mrs. Burke.” He smiled and tried to walk past her, but the maid shifted to her right and blocked his way.

  “Do you have an appointment, Señor?” she asked sternly.

  “No, but if you mention my name, I’m confident she’ll see me.”

  “And I am confident she will not!” the maid retorted.

  “I am her doctor,” he said as he showed her the black leather bag. “She called and said it was important, so if you don’t mind,” he pushed past her, “is she upstairs?”

  “No, no, Señor, out by the pool, but you cannot…”

  Greenway didn’t wait for her to finish her protest. He strode into the foyer, through the kitchen, and out the open French doors to the large patio deck and pool, where he saw a very attractive blonde woman lying on her stomach on a recliner in the sun, buck-naked. Greenway’s eyes immediately went to her scrumptiously shaped rear end, but he saw enough of her face to know who she was. As he approached her chair, she raised her head, put on her large, black sunglasses, and paused to look him over from head to foot.

  By this time, the maid caught up. “I am so sorry, Mee-sus Burke, but he…”

  “That’s all right, Consuelo, toss me my towel.” The maid hurried over with it and tried to cover her up, but Angie took it from her and stood up without evidencing the slightest concern regarding how much of her gorgeous body she revealed. Very slowly, she wrapped the towel around herself and sat back down on the chair, watching Greenway’s eyes the entire time.

  “You must excuse me for barging in on you unannounced,” he said, pretending not to have noticed she was naked.

  “He said he was your doctor!” Consuelo said angrily.

  Greenway held up his small black medical bag and gave her his best smile. “I must apologize, Mrs. Burke, this usually gets me in everywhere.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not going to get you in everywhere,” Angie shot back in amusement.

  “I’m Doctor Greenway, Doctor Lawrence Greenway,” he smiled at her and pulled down on his French cuffs. “I’m the President of Consolidated Health Care.”

  “Gee, a doctor who makes house calls,” she laughed at him. “And here I’m not due for a physical for another four months… doctor.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that, my dear,” he laughed along with her.

  “I didn’t expect it would be, and I know who you are, Doctor Greenway.” She turned toward the still flustered maid and said, “Consuelo, why don’t you bring us two of those marvelous Texas Teas you make… Like the ones you made a few days ago, por favor.”

  “Si, Señora,” the maid replied in a huff and scurried back to the kitchen.

  “So what brings you up to Winnetka, doctor? Sightseeing?” she asked as she straightened the towel again and motioned for him to take the lounge chair across from her.

  “No, not that there aren’t some wonderful things to see up here.”

  “Okay, cut the crap, Larry. What do you want? Or did you come here to get me angry, like you did my husband?”

  “Heavens no, my dear; and what an unfortunate misunderstanding that entire situation is turning out to be. It has been so sad and disruptive for everyone, you included, and I want to personally apologize for whatever small role I might have played in creating these problems to begin with.”

  “How nice of you,” Angie replied. She might be a lazy and indifferently educated young woman with a large ego and lightning quick temper, but she did inherit a finely tuned “Bullshit Meter” from her father, as he called it. Every time Greenway opened his mouth, the needle went off the dial.

  “Yes, so unfortunate. When I met your husband, he looked like an ordinary enough fellow. I think he said he was in the Army, although I must say, he isn’t exactly what I would have expected in a military type. He mentioned he was in ‘communications,’ and I assumed that meant he was some kind of a telephone installer or a cell phone nerd, or something.”

  That cracked Angie up. “Bobby? A phone installer? A cell phone nerd? You have no idea how funny that is. I’ve heard him called a lot of things, but never a nerd.”

  “Please call me Lawrence, Angie. Obviously, your husband is a fascinating young man.”

  “Husband? He’s my soon-to-be-ex-husband, Lawrence, and that can’t happen soon enough; not that it’s any of your goddamned business.”

  “You know, I could not agree more. That’s what makes this entire affair and his delusion that I go around murdering women, so very unfortunate.”

  “Oh, so, now he’s delusional?” she cackled. “What a morning!”

  “Well, perhaps I can help. I’m a doctor, and an MD. I spent the past fifteen
years bringing comprehensive medical care to the slums of Chicago’s South Side. I saved hundreds and hundreds of lives down there. I thought perhaps if we worked together we could find an appropriate place where Robert could receive some suitable professional care.”

  “You want me to help you put him in the nut house?” she looked at him, astonished.

  “I wouldn’t put it that way, but I would like to understand the young man better.”

  “Bobby? What you see, is what you get. But ‘be advised,’ as his guys used to say, you’re making the mistake of your life if you keep pissing him off.”

  “Oh, I am not afraid for my own safety, Angie. I have more than enough people protecting me now.”

  “You really think so?” she smiled at him, clearly amused.

  “Well, yes, but the young man does need help. He is disrupting my business, and I understand he’s been causing you a lot of problems, too. So if you can help us find him…”

  “Doctor, if half a dozen suburban police departments, the Chicago cops, the FBI, and the US Attorney’s office can’t find him, what makes you think I know where he is?”

  “The US Attorney? You know you can’t trust politicians, Angie. All Peter O’Malley cares about is Peter O’Malley.”

  “I’m shocked. I can’t trust a politician? What about a doctor?” she asked as she slowly re-crossed her legs, letting the towel ride up, mocking him. “Why don’t you tell me what really happened up on that roof, Larry? My bet is you strangled that woman, Bobby saw you, and now you want me to help you find him, so you can shut him up.”

  “Nothing happened up there!” he snapped, seeing he was getting nowhere with her and turning angry. “I’m asking you for your help, nice and friendly, for the last time.”

  “Is that a promise?” she laughed at him again.

  “Where is he? Where can we find him?”

  “Larry, as the ancient Greeks used to say, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ ”

  Greenway glared at her for a moment and then softened his expression. “You are right, of course, but may I use your restroom? I’m afraid I drank far too much coffee at lunch.”

  “There’s one off the kitchen. Consuelo will show you.”

  Greenway got to his feet, and retraced his steps through the French doors, where the maid was placing two tall crystal glasses on a silver tray, which already held a large frosty pitcher and ice. Her back was to him as he reached into his pocket and pulled on a pair of latex surgical rubber gloves, but she must have heard his soft footsteps coming up behind her. As she turned her head to look, he placed one of his large hands on the back of her head and grabbed her chin with the other, giving them both a quick twist. With the leverage his long arms and height provided; he snapped her neck like a dry chicken bone, and she collapsed on the floor at his feet. The crystal tumblers, pitcher, and tray fell on top of her with a loud Clang! and Crash!

  Greenway turned and quickly walked back out the patio doors to the deck.

  “What was that?” Angie asked, suddenly concerned.

  “Oh, nothing, I think Consuelo dropped the tray,” Greenway smiled as he returned to his chair and opened his black-leather bag.

  “Consuelo?” Angie called out as she swung her legs over the side of the chair and began to stand up.

  “Oh, don’t go, Angie,” Greenway grinned as he shoved her back down. He swung his long leg over the lounge chair, straddled her, and grabbed her by the throat with his gloved left hand. With his right hand, he snapped open Tony Scalese’s 9-inch stiletto, and pressed it against her throat. “Our little conversation is beginning to get interesting,” he said with a thin, sadistic smile. “In a little while, I think you’ll warm to the subject, and warm to me. Meanwhile, let’s talk about your husband a bit more. Where did you say I could find him?”

  As they reached the Interstate, Ernie Travers’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his jacket pocket, looked at the display, and frowned. “You might want to hear this,” he motioned to Bob as he put the cell phone on speaker. “Travers,” he mumbled indifferently.

  “Lieutenant, this is Peter O’Malley. I’ve been calling your office all…”

  “I haven’t been there, Mister O’Malley. There’s been a sharp increase in thefts in the baggage area, so I’ve been out and about inspecting and inventorying.”

  “Really? I left four messages on your office phone and talked to your secretary. She doesn’t seem to have a clue where you are.”

  Travers paused. “That’s what she’s supposed to say. What can I do for you?”

  “Are you aware of what happened this morning?”

  “Regarding something at the airport?”

  “No, regarding your friend, Burke.”

  “That’s not my case, he’s not my friend, and I’m busy. What else can I do for you?”

  “He phoned me this morning. He has the reports and things that Eleanor Purdue was to turn over to me, and I’ve got to have that stuff. Look, I know you two talked.”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Mister O’Malley.”

  “Someone tortured and murdered his friend Charlie Newcomb. Burke thinks it was Tony Scalese’s men. He also thinks they killed Eleanor Purdue and that flight attendant, Sabrina Fowler. At last count, he’s put two of them in the hospital, and he told me he’s just getting started. We need to find him and get him off the street before they do.”

  “We?” Travers chuckled. “Well, for starters, I’d be a little more worried about them than I would be about him, if I were you. But as I said, it’s not my case. If you want him to come in, offer him a deal and give him full immunity,” he said as he looked up at Burke and smiled.

  “You know I can’t do that!”

  “Why not? The charges against him are bogus and you know it. He didn’t kill those women. All you have to do is decline to prosecute. Happens every day.”

  “The newspapers would eat me alive.”

  “Really? When he releases all those records, you’ll have no choice anyway. The smart play for you is to get ahead of all that and make it look like it was your idea. The longer you wait, the worse you’re going to look. But hey, I gotta run, Mister O’Malley. My bowling league’s in a roll-off tonight, and you know how cranky they get when the high-pin guy’s late. Ciao,” Travers said as he rang off and looked over at Burke with a contented smile.

  “Your bowling league?” Burke laughed. “The high-pin guy?”

  “What was I supposed to say? God, I hate those guys.”

  “Which ‘guys?’ The Feds? Sleazy politicians in general? Or only the Irish? Look,” Bob said as he drove east and got on the I-90 expressway, checking his rearview mirrors as he did. “Ernie, we have over four hours before my guys arrive and we need to take a shot at that flash drive. Before we went to the school, Linda and I bought some computer equipment from Best Buy, and we have what’s left of Charlie’s laptop. What we need is a place where we can set it all up and see if we can make it work.”

  Looking out the window, Linda saw the long line of motels down Mannheim Road. “Why don’t we find a motel room? They usually have Internet.”

  “Better still, how about my office?” Travers asked. Bob appeared skeptical, so the big Chicago cop went on, “No, think about it, it’s the perfect choice. My office staff leaves for the day at 4:00, so it’s empty. I have a couple of big, fast laser jets that’ll bang out those documents as fast as you need them. I also have Xerox machines, fax machines, phones, a couple of other computers, and about anything else you might want. Best of all, we’ll have complete privacy in a secure area surrounded by chain-link fences and protected by the TSA. How can you beat that?”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Linda added, and Bob agreed.

  Travers’s key card opened the rear Security Gate at O’Hare. They parked behind Ernie Travers’s office, and went inside. In short order, they had the boxes unpacked, the flash drive inserted in one of the computers, and a pot of coffee brewing. Bob imme
diately set to work on the new Asus notebook, while Ernie tried to open the case on Charlie’s older one with the through-and-through bullet hole. It looked like a simple enough task, but there were a dozen tiny screws securing the back panel to the case. Ernie volunteered to take them on with the little phillips screwdriver Bob bought. However, after trying to loosen three of them, he handed the phillips to Linda. “Not with these meat hooks,” he told her, holding up his big hands. “You work the screws; I’ll go down to the food court and get us some stuff to eat. Looks like we may be here a while.”

  “Where is he?” Greenway asked Angie again, even more demanding this time.

  “How the hell would I know?” she shouted up at him.

  “I’m not going to ask you again,” he threatened, tightening his grip on her throat.

  “You bastard, get your hands off me!” she said as she hit him in the face with a balled fist. “You’re a goddamned maniac!” Her punch was surprisingly hard and caught him flush on his cheekbone where Linda Sylvester’s deep gouges had barely begun to heal.

  “Ah!” he screamed and hit her hard with a monstrous backhand. “You’re hiding him, aren’t you? Is he in here in the house or in some other place you own?”

  The long fingers of his left hand tightened around her throat and he dragged her off the chair and onto the deck. Her towel fell away as she struggled, thrashing from side to side, leaving her naked as he sat on her, straddling her, and holding her down. “Tell me, you stupid bitch,” he screamed into her face and brought the knife against her throat again. “Didn’t you believe what your husband told you about me; what might happen to you if you cross me?”

  “We never talked about you, you asshole!” She reached out with both hands this time, fingernails extended like a large cat, going for his eyes. Unfortunately for her, he saw it coming and pushed down hard on her throat, cutting off the air to her lungs. His arm was much longer than hers, and the best her deadly, perfectly manicured fingernails could do was to grab his coat sleeve.

  “You see, Angie, I’ve done this before — many, many times before — and I enjoy it!” He said as he squeezed even harder and watched her face grow red and her eyes bulge out. “Last chance. Where can I find him?” he asked as he released some of the pressure on her throat, enough for her to take in a small, desperate breath and cough.