Tomorrow We Die

by Shawn Grady

  “That’s fine. Thank you.”

  He pulled out a skillet and lit another burner.

  The scent of pine mixed with hot tea, toast, and eggs in cast iron. I didn’t want to leave.

  But I knew this was only a buffered reality. An alcove set apart from a raging sea. Outside the walls of this cabin my life lay in shambles.

  I needed someone with power to stand up for me. I didn’t really care about not working at Aprisa anymore. I was a short-timer anyway. But I needed to at least get into the School of Medicine. If the accusation against me for cheating was retracted, then perhaps I could keep my scholarship. Dr. Kurtz was my best hope for a defense, both with Aprisa and the MCATs.

  We ate breakfast around the coffee table. I couldn’t remember when eggs and toast had tasted so good.

  Naomi warmed her hands around her teacup. “I’m scheduled to pick up the second half of a shift today for another flight nurse.”

  I nodded. “You start around two?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to be there by one thirty at the latest.”

  Eli set his spectacles on the table. “There is information I’d like to secure at the morgue. I’m approaching a conclusion. But there’s some data I need to check to be sure.” He stared at his plate. “Whoever is out for you, Jonathan, obviously does not want me interfering.”

  “Which means they’ll be looking for you.”

  “Yes. But if they are, then they’ll be looking for me in the car I normally drive. Not the Scout parked out back.”

  Dr. Kurtz didn’t want to meet until that evening. But he’d never been too busy to meet me at his office before. I wasn’t willing to wait for the Old Country. If he had anything to offer, he could give it at the university. “I could drop off Naomi at her car and you down in Reno at the morgue and then head to the university to meet with Kurtz.”

  Eli cleaned his glasses with a shirttail. “Yes. Yes, I think that’s wise. See what headway you can make with him, then come get me.” He hooked the wiry frames around his ears. “As far as we know, no one is aware that Naomi is involved. You two haven’t been seeing each other regularly before this, so there’s not much reason for her to be suspected.”

  He scratched his beard stubble and turned to Naomi. “Still, I’m concerned. Whoever is covering up Aprisa’s actions is also willing to kill for it. I’d feel best if you spent the night here again after your shift. Do the same thing as last night. If you can, drive a different car up and park in the same lot. The moon will be thinner this evening. We should be good for at least one more night.”

  The cabin didn’t have electricity, but it did have hot water. It felt good to start anew and be clean after a shower, even if I had to pull on the same clothes I’d been wearing. Before long we were jostling uphill in the Scout.

  Across the bay, the Vikingsholm parking lot was already filling up with people of various nationalities carrying cameras and speaking in different languages. We said a quick good-bye to Naomi, who didn’t waste any time getting into her car. The plan was for her to let us go first and then leave a few minutes later.

  I didn’t like separating from her. Ten minutes into it, I called to make sure she’d left the lot without problem. No answer. After passing Tahoe City on the north end of the lake, I still hadn’t heard back.

  Eli adjusted his seat belt. “She probably just doesn’t want to talk while driving.”

  I took a deep breath. “Right.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  We merged onto Interstate 80 toward Reno, and I wished I could believe him.

  CHAPTER 33

  My knee vibrated while I sat in the lobby outside Dr. Kurtz’s office. Framed photos of past med-school deans lined the walls. Like a timeline of presidents, each was labeled with a small brass plaque stating the individual’s name and dates of service. All WASPs. Only the last four photos were in color, with Joseph Kurtz, M.D. engraved beneath the last, a blank space following his starting date. School of Medicine Dean was not a position prone to turnover.

  The thick cherrywood door to his office opened. Kurtz appeared in a predictable black button up, ponytailed hair, and circular glasses. Very John Lennon-esque.

  Imagine there’s no MCATs . . .

  “Jonathan.” He motioned toward his office.

  No smile for me this time.

  I followed him in, glancing at the receptionist busy penning something at the welcome desk.

  Kurtz sat in a high-backed leather chair, the kind with rows of big buttons that cinched the fabric. Windows behind him looked out from the second story onto a grassy courtyard surrounded by university buildings.

  “Have a seat.” He flashed a courteous smile.

  I ignored the offer and examined the glossy walnut hutch that lined one wall. Taber’s Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary. The Physicians’ Desk Reference for pharmaceuticals. A few framed photos of Kurtz shaking hands with prominent figures.

  He clicked a pen. “Or not.”

  I studied my dim reflection in the cabinet varnish. “I’m not a thief.”

  A crystal trophy engraved with the heading, Lifetime Achievement in Medicine cast a swath of rainbow.

  “And I didn’t cheat.”

  He crossed his fingers, elbows resting on the table. He stared at a black writing mat, nodding.

  “I need you to believe me, Doc. Aprisa might fire me, but I need that scholarship.”

  “Jonathan. There is no more scholarship.”

  “But there can be. I’ve been . . . They’ve got it wrong. They’re saying they have video evidence that I cheated, which is impossible.

  Because I didn’t. I need time to clear my name.”

  “Time that the university isn’t willing to take.”

  “But you . . . This isn’t right.”

  “Right or wrong has little to do with it. This isn’t like back in my day, Jonathan. Drug abuse can’t be excused by social revolution.”

  “Right or wrong has everything to do with it. Don’t you get it? I’m being framed.”

  “Hey, now.” He put his hands up. “I understand emotions are high. But we don’t need to jump to rash conclusions.”

  “There’s nothing rash about it.”

  “I understand you’re under a lot of stress right now – ”

  “Stress? I’m being set up.”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  “They’re trying to shut me up.”

  “Jonathan. Shh. Come on now. Why would Aprisa even want to do that?”

  I froze.

  Who said anything about Aprisa?

  I pocketed my hands and nodded, pacing behind two leather chairs positioned in front of his desk. “Right. Right.” I scratched my neck. “Why would they? You’re on the board. You tell me.”

  He searched for things to straighten on the desktop. “Look. You can be frank with me. If you’ve got a substance-abuse problem, I know people. There’s a great program I can get you hooked up with. It’s best, at this point, to just come clean. That’s going to be your only shot of getting back into med school. Eventually.”

  I stared at the frames hanging on the opposite wall. His undergraduate diploma abutted his med school diploma and his license to practice medicine.

  My heart dropped in my chest.

  My eyes fell upon a plaster imprint, measuring maybe eight inches square, hanging next to the frames. Jutting between deep grooves stood a series of Latin letters markedly familiar.

  My heart beat like mad. I kept my back to Kurtz.

  His chair squeaked. “Friend of mine brought back that casting from Italy.”

  My eyes moved back and forth. Letell had led me to this square.

  Martin had worked at the university. He worried about corruption. He would have known exactly who Letell was cryptically pointing to.

  Kurtz cleared his throat. “It’s a magic square, reputedly. Imparts success and good fortune.”

  I steadied my breathing.

  “Which I’m sure you feel in want of now. Fo
rgive me. Perhaps I can get you a copy. If you’d like.”

  I turned and walked to the edge of the desk. “I didn’t steal any narcotics. I am not an addict, a cheater, or a liar.”

  “Hey, it’s not for me to judge.”

  “You know it! What’s in it for you, Joseph?”

  He stood. “How dare you? Come in here like this . . . Yell at me. Disrespect me in my own office?”

  “Disrespect you? Are you listening to yourself?”

  “Video evidence doesn’t lie, Jonathan.”

  “You think I don’t know how easy it is to doctor a video?”

  “Not with the MCATs.”

  “Look me in the face and tell me that you don’t believe me.”

  He turned aside.

  I set my chin. “All right, then. I get it. I get it. Your believing makes no difference. Why would it?”

  “I think I’ve heard en – ”

  “Why are you altering Aprisa’s run times?”

  His lips fell apart. He looked down and let out a cynical laugh. He dropped into the chair and ran his hand over his mouth. “Fools rush in, Jonathan.” His face hardened. “So why are you running into places the very host of heaven avoid?”

  “The company paying you dividends on profits, Doc? Is that it? How petty is that?”

  “You had such a bright future. Now here you go. Chucking it to the side of the road – and for what? To what end, Jonathan? What benefit? You’ve earned your reward.” He slid open a desk drawer and produced a matte black pistol with a rubber-lined grip.

  My heart skipped.

  He locked his eyes with mine. He pointed the gun at the floor and pushed a button on the desk phone. The receptionist answered, and he said, “Judy, did you hear yelling from inside my office just now?”

  “Yes, Dr. Kurtz. Is everything all right?”

  “There is a bit of a situation. Have the university police come right away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You are aware, Jonathan, that assault alone is a crime. The simple act of making someone think you’re going to commit battery.”

  “I don’t even know you anymore.”

  “You’ve betrayed my trust.”

  I betrayed him? “You think I have no defense? There are others at Aprisa who can clear my name.”

  “You have no friends at Aprisa. You’ve already been fired by unanimous board vote this morning.” He stood up and ran his free hand along the top of the chair. “This is bigger than you, Jonathan. And I am sure, now that you have a record, certain detectives downtown will be curious about the fact that you showed up, off duty, at a prospective murder scene. You’ve brought this on yourself.”

  “You knew I found Letell dead at that motel…. Is it because you killed him? Is that why you called me right after with news about a scholarship? You’ve been trying to distract me. Telling me to put Aprisa behind and look to my future.” I shook my head. “This will spiral out of your control. You – ”

  “Have a seat.”

  “I’ll stand.”

  “Sit.” He straight-armed the pistol.

  If it were the movies, my line would be “What’re you gonna do? Shoot me?” To which I’d seen varied results. Depending on the writer, not all of them favorable.

  I pushed my lips together and sat on the edge of a chair.

  Kurtz stripped off his glasses and slid them on the desk. He pulled his ponytail out and shook his salt-and-pepper hair free. It hung wild and greasy, and in his black shirt he now looked more like a gangster than an academic hipster. He leaned on the bookcase and tilted up the handgun with his forefinger and thumb.

  He exhaled. “There is a structure to things. There is a way that you climb the ladder. Like Jacob. The usurper. He snatched everything he could take and found the gateway to heaven.” He crossed his arms, the gun pointing out from under his bicep.

  I couldn’t be taken into custody. Who knew what other false accusations might arise? I gauged the distance between us. Could I charge him before he could aim the gun? It would be close, and risky.

  “One must take what is his, Jonathan. Find the way to win. I am the master of my fate. The captain of my soul. Not anyone else.”

  “Who else is involved, Joseph?”

  His cheek twitched.

  He wasn’t working alone.

  He grinned. “ ‘Under the bludgeoning of chance, my head is bloody, but unbowed.’ ”

  A knock pounded on the office door. “UNR PD.”

  Kurtz glanced at his glasses on the desk. “Like I said. There is a way to go about things. And you, unfortunately, are not playing by the rules.”

  The doorknob clicked back and forth.

  My eyebrows tightened. He had locked it when I came in.

  “UNR PD. Open up.”

  I might not see freedom for months or longer. I thought of Eli and Naomi.

  “Police. Unlock the door.”

  He reached out for his glasses and dropped the gun hand to his side. I saw my chance.

  And sprang.

  He shouted.

  I drove him to the bookcase, catching his wrist above the pistol. The hutch tottered. He twisted and shifted, turning with me and ramming me back against it. He forced his gun hand into the air, sweeping in a broad arc to break my grasp. Books and plaques toppled and crashed. Shouts came from the other side of the door. I brought a foot up against the cabinet and pushed off.

  I drove him backward. The air burst and the window shattered.

  He struck his head on the sill and we hit the floor. My ears rang.

  I cocked my fist.

  But he lay there limp, unconscious.

  My chest heaved.

  The office door rattled and shook. Wood splintered.

  I stood, heart pounding.

  A two-story drop lay below the broken window. Less than ten feet if I hung from the sill.

  The doorframe cracked.

  I grabbed a book and scraped glass shards off the window frame. I climbed out of it – sharp pains digging into my palms, my shoes slipping against the brick veneer – and dangled over a narrow row of junipers.

  A loud slam sounded with yelling and boot steps. I pushed off the building, dropped through a screen of scaled leaves, and landed on the grass with a gut-thumping impact.

  I rolled, popped up, and dashed from the courtyard, shouts coming from the window above.

  CHAPTER 34

  Not since being chased by a pit bull as a kid do I remember running with the adrenaline-charged speed I managed then.

  I flew through the university grounds – weaving between channels of foot traffic, hurtling hedges, and darting around corners. At Virginia Street near Eleventh I slowed to an inconspicuous walk, doing my best to blend in with other pedestrians.

  My flight response waned, like lava into the sea. I rubbed sweat from my brow. A streak of blood stained my hand. Sirens echoed in the distance.

  Reno wasn’t an overly violent town. Shootings brought a gaggle of cops in short order. Eli’s car sat on the south side of the campus, so I planned to head to Ninth, go east for a block, and then enter the parking lot there.

  A horse-mounted RPD officer galloped up Virginia. I ran a hand through my hair and avoided eye contact. Radio traffic blared as she passed. Nothing I could make out. Farther south, between the high-rises downtown, emerged the red-and-blue flashes of patrol cars hooking turns up Virginia.

  It occurred to me that they might shut down access and egress to the school. I quickened my pace – as fast as I could walk without drawing attention to myself. I pocketed my hands and kept my head down. Two RPD cars flew past.

  The attention and bustle focused on the center of the university. A motorcycle cop raced by, followed by an Aprisa ambulance.

  Ninth Street, in contrast, was deserted. I fought the urge to break into a jog. Going from a harried sprint to that methodical stride was painstaking and trying. It was no small relief to be leaving the sidewalks for the safety of Eli’s Scout.
/>   Base.

  I slid the key into the lock.

  A small engine slowed to an idle behind me, followed by an authoritative voice. “Hold it right there.”

  I stared at the door handle.

  So close. I began lifting my hands and making a slow turn.

  An obese parking attendant sat in a covered golf cart, forearm resting on the wheel.

  I crossed my arms and cleared my throat. “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head with disdain. “You kids think you can park anywhere, don’t you?” He barely looked old enough to grow a beard.

  “I was actually just leaving.”

  He wiped his brow with a white handkerchief. “It don’t matter if you’re leaving or coming, bro. You still can’t park here unless you have the sticker. And you don’t have that, now, do you?”

  I played along. “You’re right. You nailed me. I thought I could park here for a few minutes and I – ”

  “Thought wrong. Didn’t you?” So satisfied was he with his position of power.

  I bowed my head in penitence. “I have no excuse. How much is the fine?”

  He squinted, looked to the side, and then labored out of the golf cart. It tilted back to level. He scuffled up to me. “I’ll tell you what. Don’t let the boss find out, but I’m going to let you off. All right? Old Chuck will take care of you.”

  I let out a breath. “Thanks, Chuck.”

  He sniffed and ran a round hand beneath his nose. “Don’t mention it, bud.” He got back in the cart and waved. “You take care, now. Stay out of trouble.”

  If only.

  I slid behind the wheel of the Scout. Now that I was on the lam, there were a few things I needed to pick up from home.

  Tech savvy my father wasn’t. Predictable, though? Without a doubt.

  At this time in the afternoon he made a habit of visiting Tini’s – a martini bar at the edge of downtown. I couldn’t risk showing up at my house, and my dad didn’t own a cell, so after I received no response on the home phone, I banked on the odds of his being there.

  Part of me reasoned that I should go straight to pick up Eli from the morgue, but things had changed, and I was pretty sure I was going to be on the run for a while. I called Eli on his cell with no response and opted not to leave a message. In front of a curbside meter by Tini’s, I scanned the surrounding street and businesses and dropped in a few quarters.