by Gary Starta
Finch’s jaw fell slack. Lorelei inhaled loudly, as if it hurt her.
It only took a moment for both to grasp the consequence of their actions. Congressman Daniel Katz gunned down after behaving homicidally. Somehow infected with the disease…
Finch scratched his chin, eyes downcast. “Wait, there’s got to be an explanation. Ah, could he have caught the disease from the pill, we gave him one.”
Lorelei’s face soured. “Come on, Finch. That’s not likely. And why would he swallow the evidence?”
“Oh…no…no…no…no…” Finch answered monosyllabically in a low voice. He wandered to the kitchenette, hands wrapped about the top of his hands as if police asked him to assume the position. He bent at the waist.
Burnham leapt from the couch in an attempt to shield Lorelei. Her face scrunched with confusion. “What…?” she mouthed to Burnham.
The zombie cop knew his friend, recognized the calm before the storm. He’s going to blow…
Seconds confirmed Burnham’s diagnosis. A whiskey bottle surrendered to pieces after meeting a wall.
“What have I done?” Finch screamed. “Bollocks! I’ve made things worse!”
Finch still hunched over, really didn’t expect a response to his confession.
It came in the form of a growl.
Lorelei wriggled from Burnham’s grasp. She danced along a sofa arm, hissing, crouched to pounce, catlike and feral. A lock of hair masked a side of her face, Cyclopes, a Greek myth come to life in Finch’s living area. She swatted the hair from her face, but it returned. This time an ice blue orb radiated through it. Burnham surmised the strange illumination to be the aftermath of her enhanced vision. He wondered what she saw. Or what she didn’t see.
It’s obvious she’s blinded by the hunger. It’s what I must have looked like before the pills. He wondered. Did she take the pills? Of course, she did. It’s got to be Finch’s anger…feeding her compulsion…
“Finch,” Burnham called. But before he could deter Finch further, Lorelei leapt. He caught her ankle in his hand. She fell, sideways, sprawling over the couch arm, her hair flowing spaghetti style over carpeting. Half on the sofa; half off.
The duality…Burnham thought.
He leaped over the sofa to put a knee over her shoulder blades. “Stay down, Lorelei. Stay down.”
He kept his weight on her until she finally spoke.
“Okay, Burnham. I’m me again. You can let me up.” Her words sounded slurred, her lips pressed against carpet.
His hands remained about her waist for a long moment after she stood.
Burnham spoke. “It’s not anybody’s fault here. And if you need to assign blame, you can point the finger at me. I agreed to this, I should have politely said thanks but no thanks to your idea Finch. It’s why I won’t go to the police. Apparently, a lot of players are involved in this. I didn’t think politicians were involved…in fact, I still don’t think they are involved. But someone eavesdropped. Someone who might have accidentally unleashed the disease…”
Lorelei intervened. “No, maybe someone did this intentionally. They made the congressman sick as an example, possibly used it as a way to introduce the disease to the public while eliminating the threat Katz posed to the treatment; because if the congressman had talked, the pills would have become very circumspect.”
“I’m not convinced,” Burnham said. “It’s like Finch projected. They extorted a scumbag like Amado James first. Then they stepped it up to a public figure. Only, maybe Katz behaved unexpectedly forcing their hand, prompting them to end their end plan abruptly.”
“No, Burnham,” Finch said, his voice hushed. “You should listen to Lorelei. I don’t think this was about extortion and I don’t think the person behind that was behind this. Ah…shit, this is getting confusing.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “And what’s worse than our failure is that we’ve alerted the perpetrators of our existence. If they heard our conversation with the congressman they clearly know our names.”
“No, hold on,” Burnham said to Finch, “You guys probably aren’t in any danger because you made it back. It would have been too easy for them to stage a car accident on the highway.”
“Thanks for your fucking concern,” Lorelei responded, hands propped on her waist.
“And Finch, you’ve got to watch your behavior with us,” Burnham said, waving a finger between him and Lorelei. “We can be easily stimulated…”
He observed Finch’s eyes grow wide, mischievous. “I mean for violent behavior…Finch…for violent behavior.”
“Even with the pills,” Finch asked.
“Even with the pills,” Burnham answered.
“So, it’s like monkey see, monkey do.” Finch scratched his cheek. “I got it. Won’t happen again… You know it would be nice if one or both of you could read thoughts. I mean you’ve got other gifts, why not telepathy?”
Finch stared at Lorelei. She was distant, eyes downcast. “Ah, love. Did you hear me? Would be nice if you could discern who’s behind this?”
“Umm, sure, you’re right, Finch,” she answered, voice adrift as if caught I dream.
Finch continued to stare at her.
Burnham cocked his head, not sure why Finch was coming down on her. It was as if he was accusing her of something. He figured maybe some rift came between them on the road. What else is new…?
Lorelei excused herself to the shower and bed.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Burnham said.
“How about you?” Finch asked Burnham. “Aren’t you tired from patrolling?”
“Nah, I took the night off for once, did it for her. She is right, patrolling alone is insane. Anyway, if you’re still up to chatting Finch, I’d like to discuss a few things.”
“I’m too wired after hearing the bad news to sleep. That’s for sure.”
They took seats on the sofa. Burnham waited for the shower to run before speaking.
“I know you feel horrible at what happened. But it’s why I feel we – myself especially – must remain ghosts. I think it’s our best chance for catching the bastard behind this. We were dealt a blow but we still have the element of surprise on our side. Whoever’s behind this knows James is out there. He must have heard about the congressman. And even though they might even be aware of you and Lorelei, they probably don’t suspect she is a reanimate. And that still leaves me, an unknown piece of the greater puzzle.”
“Okay, you through?”
“Well, you’re in agreement then?”
“Yeah, I can lie low with the best of them. Lord knows I’ve been scraping through the muck all these years. But it’s not me you’ve got to worry about. It is her.” He pointed towards the hall. “She begrudgingly agreed to play it your way. But now that has failed, I think she might go deep end. I mean, she’s on edge. She nearly lunged at me before. And I’m not sure it’s just monkey see, monkey do. Now you didn’t go all ape shit over my tantrum, now did you?”
No, I didn’t, Burnham pondered.
***
I’d like to thank whoever’s responsible. I’d like to thank the Academy…and most of all I’d like to thank all the little people…
Crime lord zombie Amado James joked to himself after hearing the broadcast. Joking was the only means he had lately to retain his sanity. His plan to infect the daughter of the police chief’s friend had gone awry. He was no closer to alerting the masses of the disease until…
The attack was gift like. If James believed in a God he would have thanked him. But James’s cynical nature could only chalk up his fortune to happenstance. Sometimes even motherfuckers hit the jackpot…
So, the disease had been introduced. The TV even claimed a treatment was being worked on. Well, James knew the treatment had already been worked on. He had the treatment in pill form in his medicine cabinet. But how long would it take
for the pills to show up shelves at CVS? He surmised there would still be a waiting process. And until that happened, he would be at the mercy of that fucking no name ball buster, McKean, the long arm of the real extortionist.
But as much as the congressman’s death both delighted and aggravated him, James could not for the life of him fathom why his extortionist might be involved in the death of Daniel Katz. However, analyzing the information as the scumbag Amado James was and always would be, he did take perverse delight in one fact: this must be pissing off McKean to no end. It’s one thing to extort scum…
***
…But another thing to extort a public figure. Brendan McKean nearly finished James’s thought. And yes, he was pissed about it.
Yet he couldn’t pin the blame on Brinkhaus, the self-absorbed human engineer had little reason to unleash the disease upon one man in random fashion. McKean believed Brinkhaus was perfecting the disease…ah, that’s ironic…or maybe an oxymoron, McKean pondered. How exactly does one perfect something that’s supposed to be bad? What kind of fucking lunacy did I sign on for? I can just hear my ex-wife now. You should have known. Yeah, I should have known, I guess. But sometimes you can’t see the big picture until someone puts it in a gold laced frame for you. I didn’t imagine a good man would be taken down. I only wanted to punish that bastard James.
If the perpetrator isn’t Brinkhaus, then who could it be? He recalled James’s taunting, how he proclaimed to give his to disease to some woman. Maybe she’s really out there…Maybe this controlled extortion is really not in control anymore…
As McKean took a long pull of whiskey, he wondered who was really being punished now. His throat burned in afterthought.
***
Grayson employee Tommy Chu swallowed hard. The fact his conspiracy nut colleague might be correct was one thing to accept. But that he and Claude Roy had a hand in killing a United States Congressman was quite another.
What else could have caused the congressman to go crazy? Someone who carried a lot of weight with Pharmacure Pharmaceutical recently requisitioned the serum which induced L2 disease. This can’t be a coincidence…
Chu paced his apartment. What could he do? He had sworn to confidentiality agreement with his company. Agreements typed on paper. So what? He could break them. He would lose his job and certainly everything he ever worked for once the pin suits took him to court. But he could unburden his conscience. Or could he? They might pint this on me. Shit, I’m starting to think, to react like Roy. He imagined Grayson insinuating his involvement. Anyone who participates in an act which causes death can be charged with murder… He recalled the fact from some TV show he watched ON DEMAND.
But what if things didn’t play out so conspiratorial? What if he could prove he had no knowledge of what the serum really was and that he was just a cog in the machine obeying orders? The scenario he painted in his mind wasn’t even persuasive to him.
He perused his cabinet for a fix. Something to knock back the voice… As he did, the voice spoke again.
And if he did become exonerated of all wrong doing, there still might be repercussions. Who was behind the attack on the congressman? Someone who operated above the law, that’s who, the voice answered. And they would want to kill me for talking… He placed a hand over his flushed cheeks. Either way I’m a dead man. Fucking Roy was right all along; about the rumors…about Big Pharma.
Feeling particularly screwed at the moment, Chu twisted the cap off of a pharmaceutical sleep aid and poured more than the recommended dosage into his palm.
His only option right now: knock down that fucking voice.
***
Medical Examiner Hector Gonzalez booked the first flight to Washington. I’ll be damned if I play it by Chief Palmieri"s way anymore. The cat’s out of the bag now…
The congressman’s death still played as top story on the dozens of airport TVs scattered about a reception lounge. Gonzalez, full of adrenaline, felt none of the travel fatigue he usually suffered. He found himself in a taxi en route to the hotel where Congressman Katz was killed, his mind running on overdrive. He ticked off a laundry list of people to visit; convinced at least one of them would finally buy his story and alert the public of an impending outbreak.
His first stop would entail fact checking. Was there anything else a hotel employee might be able to reveal about the death? Something – or more importantly – someone they might have witnessed who was horribly out of the place at the scene. It stood to reason whoever was behind the death might have visited the hotel. At least he hoped an employee might react to the employment of a full S.W.A.T. team.
The stout man with the glasses tapped his finger on a keyboard absently while Gonzalez peppered him with questions.
“Ah, excuse me, doctor. Who did you say you were with?” the man asked, no longer preoccupied with his computer screen.
“I’m with the crime lab.” Gonzalez flashed his credentials.
“Well what is an ME all the way from Florida doing up here? I already saw a coroner examine the body this morning. Is this kind of follow up?”
“You might say that.” The sweat on Gonzalez’s forehead betrayed his sincerity.
“You don’t mind if I confirm your story with Metro PD, do you?”
“That won’t be necessary. Truth be told, I’m not assigned to the case. But as a medical examiner I have a vested interest in it. I can’t explain further because I’m on an active police investigation.”
“You mean to tell me this happened somewhere else?”
“No. You see I can’t really say. It’s a police matter.”
“Well, let me hear your question and I’ll tell if you if I want to answer it.”
“Fair enough, sir. I’m wondering if you found the reaction team of police odd. They were reported to be on the scene just as the congressman began behaving oddly.”
“I did think that…at first, doctor. But the emergency call was generated by an upstairs patron. So, it looks like Congressman Katz began behaving badly before he took his elevator ride.”
Gonzalez grimaced. He found the clerk’s theorizing odd. What vested interest did this man have which apparently prevented him from being candid? Investigating crime scenes over the years gave the ME a perspective, and from his experience, witnesses willingly made observations of odd situations, especially the odd situations, because they wanted to make sense of the oddness. The witnesses often appeared as though they wanted police to provide an answer to their intrigue. No. This man was behaving strangely. Any other person would at least agree that the sudden appearance of a S.W.A.T. team was at least mildly disconcerting. So, who was this employee trying to protect? And his word choice was suspect. The man said the congressman had been behaving „badly" as opposed to oddly. As though he was aware the congressman was coerced to behave in such fashion.
He pretended to glance at a bag in his hand to deflect the man’s attention. Maybe he’s just trying to protect the hotel…
“Please understand,” Gonzalez said, “I’m not suspecting the hotel of any wrongdoing in the congressman’s death. Although he contracted a disease, I am most certain it was not passed to him via food or beverage. You can be rest assured I’m not here to investigate the hotel.”
“I see, Dr. Gonzalez. But I just don’t know anything more than what was reported on the newscasts. I’m just glad no one else was harmed.”
“Certainly… Well maybe you’ll think of something later. In fact, come to think of it. I’ll need some lodging. Got any available rooms this evening?”
The clerk resumed his occupation with the computer.
“Yes, got a cancellation. You can take a suite on the third floor. Will that be cash or major credit card, sir?”
Gonzalez leafed through his wallet and produced plastic.
After signing some paperwork, Gonzalez begrudgingly wended his way to the elevato
r, hoping the clerk might finally feel obligated to spill some details. He was patronizing the hotel in fact, hardly posing a threat to its reputation.
But the clerk remained silent until the elevator doors closed.
The clerk dialed a number on his cell.
“It’s me. The man you employed to monitor a certain situation.” After a pause, the clerk resumed speaking.
“I’m going to need some more compensation. I’ve got some new information…”
Chapter 19
The next morning Gonzalez agreed to communicate with the crime scene coroner via telephone. It would have to do. The DC coroner declined a personal visit. Gonzalez found that hard to accept. He hadn’t flown all the way to Washington to conduct his personal investigation into the death of Congressman Daniel Katz via satellite. He wanted to see who was answering his questions and how they answered them – with their body language.
Dr. Albert Maudlin, who confirmed the congressman died from gunshot wounds, was already investigating the cause of death on three more bodies today. “I just don’t have time to meet in person,” Maudlin stressed, hardly apologetic and mildly upset about Gonzalez’s inquisition.
Gonzalez backpedaled despite his annoyance explaining he was not second-guessing the doctor. “I think the congressman’s death might be related to a homicide in Tampa. Were there any puncture wounds about his neck?”
“I’m not sure I should be discussing this with you, who did you say you worked for…?”
“I’m the Tampa medical examiner.”
“Can I confirm this with Tampa PD?”
“Well, not exactly. I’m on leave.”
“Then to put it bluntly, I don’t see why you have an interest.”
“We had a similar case. Although you haven’t heard of it…you couldn’t. It was kept from the public so as not to cause public alarm. I witnessed a man behaving violently, as the congressman did, prior to his death. I believe he contracted this disease from a bite. That’s why I want to know if you found any puncture or bite wounds.”