Bannerman's Ghosts

by John R. Maxim

  Bourne said nothing.

  Bannerman turned to Elizabeth. He said, “I’m proud of you. Thank you.” He asked Bourne, “Can we now have a look in your basement? This lady has been more than patient.”

  “My basement?” Bourne tried to show no reaction. “There is nothing for you in my basement.”

  “Well, actually there is. Will you get to your feet, please?”

  Elizabeth was already standing.

  Bourne started to speak. He paused to wet his lips. He asked, “Who is this woman? Why is she here?”

  “Ah, forgive me,” said Bannerman. “I did say I’d introduce you. This woman is Elizabeth Stride.”

  Bourne didn’t believe it. He would not. He could not. He said, “This one’s not even close.”

  “We’ll still need to see your basement,” said Bannerman.

  “There’s a furnace room and an extensive wine cellar. There is nothing else in my basement.”

  Bannerman turned to Elizabeth. “You may show him your knife. You may take out one of his eyes.”

  She had seemed to barely move and yet the knife was in her hand. With a gymnast’s grace, she sprung and vaulted his desk. One whipping foot knocked him and his chair backward. She followed him down; she was straddling him. Her hand clamped down against the right side of his face. She had chosen the eye that she would take. “Wait, wait,” shouted Bourne. He brought his arms across his face. “If you harm me, you’ll die. Every one of you will die.”

  “We’ll discuss that. But we’ll do so in your basement.”

  “Sounds like show time,” said Waldo. “Let’s get down there.”

  Molly asked Waldo, “John, does Paul ever scare you?”

  “Scare me, how? I don’t get what you mean.”

  “I mean the way he is when he does things like this.”

  “What way?” asked Waldo. “He’s the same. He’s like always.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “And this rattles you?” asked Waldo. “Why all of a sudden? Who it rattles are people who aren’t expecting it. Look what it just did to Bourne.”

  “You think it’s his act. I’m not sure it’s an act. I’m not sure he feels anything at all.”

  “You know better.”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah, you do. A lot of years. You’re suddenly bothered that he’s being polite. Would you rather see him lose it like Stride?”

  “Now and then. Yes. I’d like to see that now and then.”

  “You saw it once,” said Waldo. “When they almost killed Susan.”

  “He didn’t get mad. He was ice.”

  “Ice is mad.”

  “Ice is also very scary,” said Molly. “I remember.”

  “So now you’re saying it bothers you, him being so cool, what with Aisha down below scared to death all this time. Don’t you think that’s a female thing maybe?”

  “Let’s go down there.”

  “Now, you’re what? Mad at me?”

  “Let’s get down there.”

  Waldo asked, “Molly, what comes after cool?”

  “I’m in no mood for riddles.”

  “I’m telling you anyway. The answer is ice. Ice is what comes after cool.”

  FORTY ONE

  Bourne, even in the basement, although visibly shaken, made a final attempt at concealment. “You see? I told you. Nothing but wine.”

  Waldo reproached him. He said, “This gets offensive. Haven’t you doped out why nothing works in this house? You think we’d come down here not knowing what’s here? You think Chester told Billy there’s nothing but wine?”

  “The dessert rack,” said Bannerman. “Slide it open if you will. Do you have the key cards to those rooms on your person?”

  Bourne’s hand, involuntarily, moved toward his robe’s pocket. Bannerman saw it. “Will you hand them to me, please?” He took them and slid the rack open by himself. He turned to Elizabeth. He handed her both cards. He said, “Go get your friends. We’ll wait here.”

  They heard the sound of a muted alarm. “Forgot to tell her,” said Waldo. “Those cards go in twice.”

  But Elizabeth had apparently figured it out. The alarm stopped abruptly. They heard the bolts sliding open. They heard a joyous shout. They heard Elizabeth’s name. They heard rustling and running and a soft crunching sound that they took to be bodies colliding.

  Bourne said to Bannerman, “That really is Stride?”

  Bannerman, enjoying the moment, ignored him.

  Bourne lowered his voice. “Just remember what I’ve told you. If harm comes to me, you’ll all die and quite horribly. Your wives, your children, your friends. They’ll all die.”

  “Yes, I got that,” said Bannerman. “Please be silent.”

  He couldn’t hear much of what was being said. Their voices were muffled, perhaps by their embrace. He heard Nadia’s name. It was spoken by Aisha. He heard Elizabeth’s voice say, “Oh, honey. Oh, no.” Then Aisha again. Her voice was comforting, soothing. He heard her make some reference to her mother. He heard footsteps, rapid footsteps, moving away. He heard the click of a second door opening. They must have gone in. Nothing more could be heard.

  Several more minutes passed before Elizabeth appeared. She had an arm around Aisha. She was holding her closely. Aisha was startled when she saw them all waiting, but she smiled as she recognized John Waldo and Molly. Molly answered her smile. She said, “Hello again, Aisha.”

  “Elizabeth didn’t tell me. It’s so good to see you.”

  Her eyes went to Bourne. Her face darkened. The smile faded. They next fell on Bannerman. Molly said, “This is Paul.”

  Aisha looked up at Elizabeth. “Paul Bannerman? Really?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes had never left Bourne’s. She said to Bannerman, “I’ve told her about you.”

  He smiled. “Hello, Aisha.”

  “Hello, sir.”

  Elizabeth said to Bannerman, “Nadia’s dead.”

  He took a slow breath. “She’s still in there?”

  “She’s in there. She’s dead. They brought her here dead. First Jasmine, now Nadia. They’re both dead.”

  Her gaze stayed with Bourne who had taken a step backward. His expression was more one of confusion than of fear. He clearly did not know who this Nadia was if this new one was Elizabeth Stride. He said to Bannerman, “It was Lilly. It was Lilly’s incompetence. That last thing I wanted was any of them dead. But the girl. I did save the girl.”

  Elizabeth asked Molly, “Would you take Aisha, please? Would you take her out to the lawn?”

  Molly understood. She wanted Aisha well away. She didn’t want Aisha to witness or hear what she intended for Artemus Bourne.

  Bannerman approached them. He touched Aisha’s cheek gently, careful of the bruise and the swelling. He said to Elizabeth, “I’d like both of you to go. You and Aisha ought to talk. Just the two of you.”

  She said, “Later.” She mouthed, “Do not ask me.”

  He said, “I know what you want. Think about what you need. Think about what the both of you need.”

  Elizabeth mouthed, “I will not let him live.”

  Bannerman turned to Molly. He took her aside. “I was trying to be subtle. I’m not sure I got through. Elizabeth is all Aisha has now.”

  “She heard you,” said Molly. “She knew that before you did.”

  “Get them out of here, Molly. Take them upstairs and…”

  “No chance. Not this time. I want Bourne myself.”

  “Will you please let me finish? You’ll be back in ten minutes. Wait until they’re both well away from the house, then ask Billy to bring Chester Lilly down here. Aisha doesn’t need to see Chester Lilly.”

  Molly nodded. “I’ll find some ice for her cheek.”

  “I’ll be looking for you in ten minutes.”

  Bannerman watched them go. He said to Bourne, “After you. You and I will have that talk you’ve been wanting.”

  Their first stop was the room in which Nadia had been
kept. He knew that Elizabeth would have checked for a pulse, but he wanted to do so himself. He saw quickly that there was no need. Her skin was cold to the touch and her muscles had stiffened. The undersides of her legs were discolored reddish-blue because of the settling of her blood.

  Bourne said again, “It was Lilly.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Lilly blamed the others. He shot them both for it. He was right to do so. This was shockingly stupid. In the end, I would have had Lilly put down for going against my instructions.”

  “Uh-huh. Mr. Bourne, what is this laboratory for?”

  “It’s…merely a convenience. It is hardly ever used.”

  “There are straps on this cot. Have you watched people die here?”

  “Die how? You mean tortured?”

  “Experiments,” said Bannerman.

  “Nothing of the sort. That’s ridiculous.”

  “I find myself doubting you. Would you open your vault, please.”

  “No, I won’t. And it’s time we had our talk.”

  “About what? Killing us and our families and our friends? Would the cause of our destruction be the two men whom you’ve sent to scout our community?”

  Once again, an involuntary tic gave the answer.

  “Would the date of our destruction be this coming Tuesday, coinciding with the cutting of our grass?”

  Bourne kept his face immobile, but his shoulders seemed to wilt.

  “And would the means of our destruction be a fine pinkish powder that is similar to the substance on that freighter?”

  Bannerman had expected Bourne to deny it. But Bourne said, “I commend you. How vigilant of you. You’re telling me that you have taken those men. But there are thousands of men. There are tons of that powder. All I need do is pick up the phone and…”

  “Um…how would you manage that?” asked Bannerman.

  Waldo had found a supply of quilted foil bags of the type used for hazardous materials. He was filling them with the collection of videos that Bourne had kept stored in a closet. Next, he would take the hard disk from the Bourne’s computer and some notebooks from Bourne’s laboratory.

  Billy appeared with Chester over his shoulder. Molly Farrell preceded him, showing the way. John Waldo saw that Billy had red welts on his face. He asked him, “You need a hand?”

  “I’m good,” said Billy. “Where do you want him?”

  Waldo shrugged. “Just dump him. This room over here.” He gestured toward the bedroom where Aisha had been kept. Molly saw the bank of monitors that scanned Bourne’s house and grounds. She saw movement on one of them. Elizabeth and Aisha. They were walking hand in hand. They had passed the helicopter. Elizabeth in her jumpsuit, Aisha still dressed for tennis. Aisha was holding a cold compress to her cheek, her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder.

  She turned to ask Waldo, “Will you help me with Nadia? We should wrap her before we take her out of here.”

  Waldo said, “Sure. Soon as Bannerman’s ready.” He turned back to Billy. “What’s with Chester? He dead?”

  “No. Paul said don’t. I even tied off where you shot him.”

  “He talked to you, right? You get anything useful?”

  “He cleared everything right up. None of this was his fault. Every single thing I asked him, someone else did it. He said he didn’t even know that this place was down here. I saw Aisha with Stride. They okay?”

  “Yeah, I think. Throw Chester on the bed in that room.”

  Billy did as he was asked. He almost literally threw him. The bed collapsed under his weight. Waldo got his first look at Chester Lilly’s face and his head. He asked Billy, “This was keeping him alive?”

  “Hey, he’s breathing.”

  Lilly’s face and his head were a mass of red welts underneath a thick coating of honey. His eyes were swollen shut, his lips and cheeks seemed inflated. His nose was broken, pushed to one side. He had hardly any hair except at the edges. The rest of his scalp was all blood. There were bees crushed and dead on Chester’s collar, down his shirt, and at least one was visible in his mouth.

  “What’s this?” asked Waldo. “You scalped him for Clew?”

  Billy said, “That’s not scalped. That’s just no hair.”

  Waldo said, “See? This is why you got that image. You don’t like it when someone calls you Bannerman’s monster, but you go and keep doing stuff like this.”

  “I’m not a monster.” Billy almost seemed hurt. “That thing where I’m a monster was a long time ago. You talking the corkscrew?”

  “In the ear. A good example.”

  “That was then. I got a wife. I got friends. Things are different.”

  “Yeah, well tell that to Chester. I think given a choice, Chester would have taken the corkscrew.”

  “I didn’t bring a corkscrew and I didn’t do his hair. This guy did that mostly by himself.”

  Waldo curled his lip. “Self-inflicted, you’re saying.”

  “Yeah. When he tried to rip the hive off his head. He’s punching at bees. He broke his own nose. The worst was when a lot of them got stuck in his hair, glued in by all that honey that came loose. I already got stung, so I stepped back and watched. He ripped out his own hair with the bees.”

  “Has Bannerman seen this?”

  “Just the start. From the window.”

  “Oh, right,” said Waldo, “And Bourne wouldn’t go look. Let’s go see if he’ll open that vault now.”

  Seeing Chester didn’t have its desired effect. Bourne did reel backward when led in to view Chester, but he almost seemed vaguely amused. He said to Bannerman, “You were serious, weren’t you? Did your man have to kill so many bees?”

  Bourne stepped closer, the better to view Lilly’s scalp. He shook his head slowly. “Poetic justice, you know. Chester once put a bullet through one of my hives. I’m not making that up. He really did.”

  Bourne clapped his hands. He asked Bannerman, “Well, what happens now? Shall I swoon? Beg for mercy? Give you anything you ask? You don’t dare hurt me. We both know it.”

  “I know that because…?”

  “I’m a national treasure. Kill me and you’ll doom millions who might otherwise have lived, thanks to me and the work that I alone have been doing. Kill me for what? Because two women died? You’ve avenged them. There’s the culprit. There is Chester.”

  “Please open your freezer,” said Bannerman.

  Bourne raised his chin. He said, “You know what? I will. I’ll show you what’s worth not two lives, but a thousand. You tell me if you don’t agree.”

  He worked the combination, hiding it with his body. One loud click, two loud thunks, and the heavy door swung open. A wave of frigid air washed over their faces. Lights blinked on revealing a well-ordered interior more than twice the size of most bathrooms.

  Bourne said, “Step right in. I have nothing to hide.”

  Waldo said, “He means all of us. We should all go in first. He’s going to hold the door like a gentleman.”

  Bourse stepped in. He muttered, “Well, it was worth a try.”

  The freezer was lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves except for one panel with its temperature controls. The shelves were filled with containers, all coated with frost. Bannerman guessed there to be two hundred or more. The containers were red with white lids and white handles. Only three of them displayed the VaalChem logo.

  Bourne said to Bannerman, “These are largely vaccines. A few dormant seed strains; miscellaneous bacilli. You’ll find nothing that’s especially lethal.”

  Bannerman asked, “Vaccines against what?”

  “Against any number of viral diseases. You may ask why so many. One likes to be prepared. And one likes to have enough on hand for one’s friends should there be a bio-weapon attack.”

  “These friends…do they know that you’ve provided for them?”

  “It is more that they know who to ask.”

  Bannerman said, “And I bet that if there should be an outbreak, you’d make even more
friends very quickly.”

  “I dare say.”

  “Are you planning an outbreak any time soon? I mean, other than in Westport, of course.”

  “I respond to them, sir. I don’t plan them.”

  “Yeah, he does,” said Billy. “Chester says he’s got one cooking.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  But Bourne wondered whether Chester had actually said it. He recalled that, not a week ago, Chester had asked him what all these vaccines were for. “In case of an epidemic,” he’d answered. Chester had asked, “An epidemic of what?” His reply was, “I haven’t decided as yet.” But of all the misdeeds to which Chester might confess, why would he volunteer that one little snippet? There, in fact, was no such plan. It was more of a notion, an “if and when” sort of thing. Nothing major, but enough to produce screaming headlines. Perhaps a hundred dead or dying in some Washington suburb. Perhaps a congressman among them. A few journalists.

  “You don’t plan them,” said Bannerman. “You only respond. And yet, twice now you’ve threatened to kill everyone I know. Which of these containers hold the virus that you’d use.”

  “None of them. Too dangerous. Wouldn’t have them in the house.”

  “If I were to l pick a few containers at random and dump their contents on the floor at your feet, would you find that unnerving, Mr. Bourne?”

  “I’d find it wasteful, Mr. Bannerman. But amuse yourself, do.” He pointed. “Start with that one, why don’t we?”

  “One of your choosing?”

  “We’ll take turns. You choose next.”

  Bourne took one of the containers that were nearest the door. He chose one of the three that bore logos. He held it, sniffed it, and put it back on the shelf. He took and sniffed another. This one caused him to recoil. “A little ripe,” he said to Bannerman as he peeled off the lid and allowed its contents to spill on the floor. There was a clatter of stones followed by a hairy mass that narrowly missed Molly’s feet.

  Bannerman looked down. “That would be…?”

  “Savran Bobik.”

  “And the stones?”

  “Angolan gravel. Not diamonds, I assure you. If you doubt me, help yourself; be my guest.”