Blindsight

by Robin Cook

“Who else?” Angelo demanded.

  “That’s all,” Bruno insisted.

  “What did Jimmy do?” Angelo asked.

  “He went into the place early to locate the electrical panel,” Bruno said. “He made the lights go out.”

  “Who ordered this hit?” Angelo asked.

  “I told you,” Bruno said. “It was all Manso’s idea.”

  Angelo took another long pull on his cigarette, then tilted his head back as he blew out the smoke. He tried to think if there was anything else that he needed to ask this punk. When he decided there wasn’t, he glanced at Tony and nodded.

  “Bruno, I’d like to ask a favor,” Angelo said. “I’d like you to take a message back to Vinnie Dominick. Do you think you could do that for me?”

  “No problem,” Bruno said. A bit of his earlier toughness returned to the timbre of his voice.

  “The message is—” Angelo began. But he didn’t finish. The sound of Tony’s Bantam made Angelo flinch. When it wasn’t your own gun, it always sounded louder.

  Since they hadn’t tied Bruno to the chair, his whole body sagged forward and crumpled to the floor. Angelo stood over him and shook his head. “I think Vinnie will get the message,” he said.

  Tony looked at his gun with a mixture of admiration and pleasure, then took out a handkerchief and wiped the soot from the muzzle. “It gets easier every time I do it,” he said to Angelo.

  Angelo didn’t respond. Instead, he squatted down next to Bruno’s body and pulled out his wallet. There were several hundred-dollar bills and a few smaller denominations. He handed one of the hundreds to Tony. The rest he pocketed. Then he put the wallet back.

  “Give me a hand,” he told Tony. Together they carried Bruno over to the hole and tossed him into the river. Like Frankie, Bruno obligingly floated quickly away, pausing only momentarily against one of the pier’s piles. Angelo brushed off his trousers. Bruno’s body had kicked up some dust from the floor.

  “You hungry?” Angelo asked.

  “I’m starved,” Tony said.

  “Let’s go over to Valentino’s on Steinway Street,” Angelo said. “I’m in the mood for a pizza.”

  A few minutes later Angelo backed up the Town Car, then made a three-point turn to exit through the chain-link gate. At the junction of Java and Manhattan Avenue, he made a left, then gunned the car.

  “It’s amazing how easy it is to whack somebody,” Tony said. “I remember when I was a kid, I used to think it was a big deal. There was a guy who lived on the next block. We kids had heard that he’d bumped somebody off. We used to sit outside his house just to see him come out. He was our hero.”

  “What kind of pizza you want?” Angelo asked.

  “Pepperoni,” Tony said. “I remember the first time I whacked somebody I was so excited I got the trots. It even gave me bad dreams. But now it’s just fun.”

  “It’s work,” Angelo said. “I wish you’d understand that.”

  “Which list we going to work off of after we eat?” Tony asked. “The old one or the new one.”

  “The old one,” Angelo said. “I want to show the new one to Cerino just to be sure. No sense making work for ourselves.”

  5

  * * *

  6:45 a.m., Wednesday

  Manhattan

  From where Laurie was standing she could see her brother heading for the lake. He was walking quickly; Laurie was afraid he might break into a run. She thought he knew about the mud and how dangerously deep it was. Yet he kept going as if he didn’t care.

  “Shelly!” Laurie cried. Either he was ignoring her or he couldn’t hear. Laurie yelled again as loud as she could but still he didn’t respond. She started running after him. He was only a step away from the horrid ooze. “Stop!” Laurie yelled. “Don’t go near the water! Stay away!”

  But Shelly kept walking. By the time Laurie reached the lakeside, he was already in black mud up to his waist. He had turned back toward shore. “Help me!” he cried.

  Laurie came to a stop just at the edge. She reached out for him, but their hands could not touch. Laurie turned and screamed for help, but no one was in sight. Turning back to Shelly, she saw that he had sunk up to his neck. There was pure terror in his eyes. As he sank further, his mouth opened and he screamed.

  Shelly’s scream merged into a mechanical ringing that pulled Laurie from her sleep. Still desperate to help Shelly, Laurie’s hand shot out and swept the Westclox from the windowsill. The same movement toppled a half-full glass of water and collided with the book she’d been reading the night before. The clock, the glass of water, and the book all fell to the floor.

  Laurie’s sudden movement and the crash of the things on the floor so surprised Tom that he leaped first to the top of the bureau, where he knocked off most of Laurie’s cosmetics, then to the valance over the window. Unable to make the top of the valance, Tom’s claws sank into the upholstered front, and the sudden weight brought the valance down.

  With the commotion and the noise Laurie was out of bed before she knew what she was doing. It was a few seconds before the sound of the alarm clock shocked her into full awake. Reaching down for it, she managed to shut it off.

  For a moment Laurie stood in the ruins of her room to catch her breath. She’d not had that particular nightmare for years, probably not since college, and its effect was more upsetting than the disarray of her room. Perspiration dotted her forehead, and she could feel her heart beating in her chest.

  After she’d sufficiently recovered, she went into the kitchen for the dustpan to clean up the broken glass. Next she picked up the cosmetics from the floor and stacked them on her bureau. The valance was too big a task. She decided to leave that for later in the day.

  She found Tom hiding under the sofa in the living room. After coaxing him out, she held him in her lap and stroked him for a few minutes until he started purring.

  About ten minutes later, she was about to step into the shower when the doorbell rang. “Now what?” she thought. Clutching a towel, she went to her intercom and asked who was there.

  “It’s Thomas,” a voice said.

  “Thomas who?” Laurie yelled back.

  “Dr. Scheffield’s driver,” the voice said. “I’m here to deliver something at the request of the doctor. He couldn’t come himself because he’s already in surgery.”

  “I’ll be right down,” Laurie said.

  Laurie quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

  “You’re early this morning.” Debra Engler was poised, as usual, at her door.

  Laurie was grateful when the elevator arrived.

  Thomas tipped his hat when he saw her. He said he hoped he hadn’t woken her. What he had for her was a long white box tied with a thick red ribbon. Laurie thanked him for the package and went back upstairs.

  Putting the box on the kitchen table, she untied the red bow, opened the box, and spread the inside tissue paper. Nestled within the paper were several dozen long-stemmed red roses. On top of the flowers was a card that said: Until tonight, Jordan.

  Laurie caught her breath. Never having been the recipient of such a flamboyant gesture, she didn’t know quite how to react. She wasn’t even sure if accepting them was appropriate or not. But what could she do? She couldn’t send them back.

  Reaching into the box, Laurie lifted one of the blossoms and smelled its springlike sweetness and looked at its deep ruby color. Even though the arrival of the roses confused her and made her feel uncomfortable, she also had to admit that it was romantic and flattering.

  Getting the largest vase she had, Laurie put half of the roses into water, then carried them into the living room. She put the vase on her coffee table. She thought she could get used to having cut flowers in her apartment. The effect was amazing.

  Returning to the kitchen, Laurie put the cover on the box and retied the ribbon. If a dozen roses could do so much for her apartment, she could only guess what they would do for her office.

  “Oh, my God!” La
urie said when she saw the time. In a panic, she tore off her clothes and jumped into the shower.

  It was almost eight-thirty before Laurie arrived at the medical examiner’s office, a good half hour later than usual. Feeling guilty, she went directly to the ID office even though, given the box of roses, she would have preferred to go to her office first.

  “Dr. Bingham wants to see you,” Calvin said as soon as he saw Laurie. “But get your butt back here on the double. We got a lot of cases to do.”

  Laurie put her briefcase and box of roses down on an empty desk. She was self-conscious about the roses, but if Calvin noticed, he didn’t give any indication. Hurrying back through the reception area, Laurie presented herself to Mrs. Sanford. Given her last time in the chief’s office, Laurie was apprehensive to say the least. She tried to imagine what he wanted this time, but she couldn’t.

  “He’s on the phone right this minute,” Mrs. Sanford said. “Would you care to sit down? It should only be a moment.”

  Laurie went over to a couch, but before she could sit down, Mrs. Sanford was speaking into her intercom: Dr. Bingham was ready to see her.

  Taking a deep breath, Laurie walked into the chief’s office. As she approached his desk, his head was down. He was writing. He made Laurie stand while he finished his note. Then he looked up.

  For a moment he studied her with his cold blue eyes. He shook his head and sighed. “After months of flawless work, you seem to have developed a penchant for trouble. Don’t you like your work, Doctor?”

  “Of course I like my work, Dr. Bingham,” Laurie said, alarmed.

  “Sit down,” Bingham said. He folded his hands and placed them resolutely on his blotter.

  Laurie sat down on the very edge of the chair facing Dr. Bingham.

  “Then perhaps you do not like working at this particular office,” he said. It was half question, half statement.

  “Quite the contrary,” Laurie said. “I love being here. What makes you think I don’t?”

  “Only because it is the only way I can explain your behavior.”

  Laurie returned his gaze evenly. “I have no idea what behavior you are referring to,” she said.

  “I’m referring to your visit yesterday afternoon to the apartment of the deceased, Duncan Andrews, where you apparently gained access by flashing your official credentials. Did you go there or have I been misinformed?”

  “I was there,” Laurie said.

  “Didn’t Calvin tell you that we have been getting some pressure from the mayor’s office about this case?”

  “He said something to that effect,” Laurie said. “But the only aspect of the case he discussed with me with regard to that pressure concerned the official cause of death.”

  “Wouldn’t that make you think that this was somehow a sensitive case and that maybe you should be as circumspect as possible in all respects?”

  Laurie tried to imagine who would have complained about her visit. And why? Certainly not Sara Wetherbee. While she was thinking she realized Dr. Bingham was waiting for a response. “I didn’t think that visiting the scene would upset anyone,” she said at last.

  “It is true you didn’t think,” Dr. Bingham said. “That is painfully obvious. Can you tell me why you went to visit this scene? After all, the body was gone. Hell, you’d already finished the autopsy. And on top of that we have medical investigators to do that type of thing; medical investigators whom we had warned not to meddle in this particular case. So that brings me back to the question: Why did you go?”

  Laurie tried to think of an explanation without becoming personal. She did not want to discuss her brother’s overdose with Dr. Bingham, particularly not now.

  “I asked you a question, Dr. Montgomery,” Bingham said when Laurie failed to respond.

  “I hadn’t found anything on autopsy,” Laurie said finally. “There was no pathology. I suppose I went in desperation to see if the scene might reveal a plausible alternative to the drugs the man had obviously taken.”

  “This is in addition to asking Cheryl Myers to look into the man’s medical history.”

  “That’s right,” Laurie said.

  “Under normal circumstances,” Bingham said, “such initiative might be commendable. But under the present circumstances it has added to the problems of this office. The father, who happens to be very politically connected, found out you were there and screamed bloody murder, as if we’re out to ruin his senatorial campaign. And all this is on top of the Central Park Preppy II case, which has already caused enough trouble with the mayor’s office. We don’t need any more. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Laurie said.

  “I hope so,” Bingham said. He looked down at the work on his desk. “That will be all, Dr. Montgomery.”

  Laurie walked out of the chief’s office and took a deep breath. This was the closest she had ever come to being fired. Two unpleasant summonses to the chief’s office in three days. Laurie couldn’t help but think that one more time in front of Bingham and she would be out.

  “You and the chief square things away?” Calvin asked when Laurie reappeared.

  “I hope so,” Laurie said.

  “Me too,” Calvin said. “Because I need you in top form.” He handed her a pack of folders. “You’ve got four cases today. Two more overdoses like the Duncan Andrews case and two more floaters. Fresh floaters, I might add. I figured since you did the same kind of cases yesterday, you’d be the fastest today. There’s a lot of work for everyone. I had to give several people five cases, so consider yourself lucky.”

  Laurie flipped through the folders to make sure that they were complete. Then she took them, her briefcase, and her box of roses up to her office. Before she did anything else, she went to the lab and borrowed the largest flask she could find. Taking the roses from the box, she arranged them and filled the flask with water. After putting the flowers on the lab bench, she stepped back. She had to smile; they were so glaringly out of place.

  Sitting down at her desk, Laurie started with the first folder. She didn’t get far. The moment she opened it there was a knock on her door. “Come in,” she said.

  The door opened slowly and Lou Soldano poked his face in. “Hope I’m not bothering you too much,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me.”

  He looked as though he’d never gone to bed the previous night. He was wearing the same baggy, unpressed suit and he still hadn’t managed to shave.

  “You’re not bothering me,” Laurie said. “Come in!”

  “So how are you today?” he asked once he’d come in and sat down. He put his hat in his lap.

  “Except for a little run-in with the boss, I guess I’m fine.”

  “Wasn’t about my being here yesterday, was it?” Lou asked.

  “No,” Laurie said. “Something I did yesterday afternoon which I suppose I shouldn’t have. But it’s always easy to say that after the fact.”

  “I hope you don’t mind my coming back today, but I understand you have a couple more cases like poor Frankie’s. They were found almost in the same spot by the same night security guard. So I was back out at the South Street Sea Port at five in the morning. Wow!” he said, suddenly spotting Laurie’s flask. “Fancy flowers. They weren’t here yesterday.”

  “You like them?” she asked.

  “Pretty impressive,” Lou said. “They from an admirer?”

  Laurie wasn’t sure how to answer. “I guess you’d call him that.”

  “Well, that’s nice,” Lou said. He looked down at his hat and straightened the brim. “Anyway, Dr. Washington said he assigned the cases to you, so here I am. Do you mind if I tag along again?”

  “Not at all,” Laurie said. “If you think you can take several more autopsies, I’m glad to have you.”

  “I’m pretty sure at least one of the deaths is related to Frankie’s,” Lou said, moving forward in his chair. “The name is Bruno Marchese. Same age as Frankie and about the same position in the organization.
The reason we know so much so quickly is that his wallet was found on his body, just as Frankie’s was. Obviously whoever killed him wanted the fact of his death to be immediately known, like an advertisement. When it happened with Frankie we thought it had been a lucky accident. When it happens twice, we know it’s deliberate. And it has us worried: something big might be about to happen, like an all-out war between the two organizations. If that’s the case, we’ve got to stop it. A lot of innocent people get killed in any war.”

  “Was he killed the same way?” Laurie asked as she went through the folders until she came across Bruno’s.

  “Same way,” Lou said. “Gangland-style execution. Shot in the back of the head from close range.”

  “And with a small-caliber bullet,” Laurie added as she finished with Bruno’s folder and picked up the phone. She dialed the morgue. When someone answered, she asked for Vinnie.

  “Are we together again today?” Laurie asked.

  “You’re stuck with me all week,” Vinnie said.

  “We got two floaters,” Laurie said. “Bruno Marchese and . . .” Laurie looked over at Lou. “What’s the name of the other one.”

  “We don’t know,” Lou said. “There’s been no ID.”

  “No wallet?” Laurie asked.

  “Worse than that,” Lou said. “Both the head and the hands are missing. This one they didn’t want us to identify at all.”

  “Lovely!” Laurie said sarcastically. “The post will be of limited value without the head.” To Vinnie she said, “I want to be sure Bruno Marchese and the headless man get X-rayed.”

  “We’re already working on it,” Vinnie said. “But it’s going to be a while. They’re in line. Busy down here today. There was some kind of gang war up in Harlem last night, so we’re knee deep in gunshot wounds. And by the way, the headless corpse is a woman, not a man. When will you be down here?”

  “Shortly,” Laurie said. “Make sure we have a rape-kit for the female.” She hung up and looked over at Lou. “You didn’t tell me one of the floaters was a woman.”

  “I didn’t have a chance,” Lou said.