“Paul…do you know why I called you?”
“To keep me from coming after you.”
“There's a better reason. I despise these people, Paul. They are destroyers of children. They corrupt all that they touch. Some of my own men, I'm afraid, have succumbed to temptations of money, of drugs, of perverted sex. They have been bribed with the bodies of young girls, Paul. Innocent little girls, made to suffer the most appalling sexual abuse and then strangled so they -could not identify their tormentors.”
”Un-huh. I see.”
“We can wipe them out, Paul. Working together, your people and mine, we can descend upon them like the wrath of God.”
“Let me think about that.”
“Until we talk again, the truce is in force. No action will be taken against any of your people. Will you make the same promise?”
“If yours behave? Same as always, Palmer.”
“Paul?”
“Yes.”
“My prayers are with Susan.”
Paul set the phone in its cradle and sat back, staring out into the night. Palmer Reid, he thought. He's never been able to resist that one extra trowelful. Now it's abused children.
As for Elena, Paul had pretended no knowledge of her on general principles. When Reid makes a call such as this he usually talks from a prepared script and does not react well to surprises. He'll now spend the rest of the day revising his assumptions. Moves, countermoves.
As for the offer of a truce, that nonsense about striking a blow for decency aside, it had to mean that Reid was frightened. With good reason. Anton had already hit him hard even before the attack on Susan. That attack could not have been an act of retaliation. It had to have been set up well before. But Reid knew he'd have top billing on any enemies list, and that was reason enough to make the call. Guilty or not. Moves and countermoves.
As for Paul saying that he believed him, it was less a means of disarming or reassuring Reid, than it was an encouragement to get Reid past the protestations and on to the point. Paul had no interest in sorting out what was true and what was not in what Reid had to say. Reid had, at best, a psychotic's concept of truth. Truth was a tactic. He did not so much tell it as retreat into it.
We'll see. First things first. The call that had shaken him was Lesko's. And still no word from Carla. Susan there alone but for a bored, possibly napping securityguard who may or may not have even arrived. There would be no sleep. He reached for his coat.
The phone rang a third time. He answered.
“Hey, James Bond.” Caroline Bass. “How are you, handsome?”
“Caroline?” He forced gladness into his voice. “Where are you?”
“Me and Ray are up in Zurich at this fancy hotel called the Dolder Grand. Day we got off the train we stopped in for lunch and for Ray to steal an ashtray, but the food was so good we ended up stayin'. Time to move on, though. I'm about to split a seam.”
“Where are you heading next?”
“Well, Ray wanted to drive down to the French Riviera to see some more beautiful people but this really isn't what you'd call high season at those topless beaches. I said we know two beautiful people right down in Klosters and why don't we drive down come morning and see if we can't get you and Susan out for lunch.”
“I'm afraid it's not a good time, Caroline. Susan's had an accident.”
“Oh, shoot, no.” Her voice fell. “One day there and she busted herself up?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“How bad, Paul?”
“Listen, Caroline…are you in your room?”
“Down at the bar.”
“There's a policeman here. Can I call you back in five minutes?”
“You better.” She read him the number.
Paul put down the phone and stared at his watch. Three minutes. Enough time. He dialed information first, then the hotel switchboard and asked for their room. No answer. But now he knew they were registered. He dialed the number of the bar and asked for Mrs. Bass.
”A policeman? Paul, how bad is it?”
“She's umm….” Paul paused and swallowed hard, as if to keep his voice from breaking “She's in a coma. They're not sure whether she'll come out of it or not.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” Paul heard the sound of a loud, frantic whisper. She was calling Ray Bass to the phone. He could make out the words alive, and coma, and head injury. ”
“Caroline. . . .”
“Paul, this is Ray.”
“Ray, it's not exactly a head injury. It's…” he stopped himself. “Look we're not going to know anything until at least tomorrow afternoon. I know you're concerned but it's not a pleasant situation and it might be better if you two just go and enjoy your vacation.”
“I know you don't intend the insult, Paul, but that's what it is. What hospital's she in? Map looks like we could be down your way in two hours.”
“It's already half past nine. I've got to get some sleep. Why don't you do the same and, if you still feel like it, meet me at Davos Hospital first thing tomorrow?”
“Try keepin' us away. Meantime, we'll be prayin' real hard, Paul.”
“You're good people.”
“You just get some rest.”
Bannerman held the phone against his chest. His eyes were blazing. He looked at his watch. Two hours. He could safely sleep for most of that. Then he'd go sit with Susan and wait for the two people Susan knew in all fucking Europe—her father's words—well enough to buy them lunch.
He still wasn't sure. He'd wanted to ask Ray what he'd be driving but he could think of no way that would not be transparent.
But if they should turn up in a black Saab with a blue ski pod on its roof, good old Ray and good old Caroline were going to die very hard.
CHAPTER 24
It being a midweek flight, Lesko, Molly Farrell and Billy McHugh had the curtained first-class section on the Swissair 747 largely to themselves.
Lesko had an aisle seat, Billy the window, and Molly the aisle seat opposite. He had little to say to either of them. The flight attendant had served a meal that Lesko barely touched, and they'd shown a movie he didn't watch. He drank through both of them, more than he should have. Now the plane was darkened, windows covered, although the morning sun was still far to the East.
Molly Farrell was asleep. According to Loftus she'd been up all the night before, driving down to Virginia, snatching his family before Palmer Reid could grab them and use them for leverage. Loftus owed her for that, he said. In his eyes, that made her okay. But Lesko didn't owe her shit. She'd tried to be friendly. He wasn't having any. He knew he needed them. He'd be lost in Europe by himself. But that didn't make them pals.
He had one too many pals already. Fucking Katz was along. Lesko would doze or his mind would wander and there would be Katz, kneeling on the empty seat in front of him, arms folded over the back, grinning at him like some jerk kid all excited about being up in a plane.
“Dumbrowski,” Katz kept snickering. It was the name of the fake passport they had given him. Katz thought this was hilarious. ”1 bet they picked Dumbrowski on purpose. It suits you, you dumb shit.”
Mostly Lesko ignored him. Earlier in the flight he'd tried to get Katz to help him think. Asking him the same question he'd asked Bannerman. Who could have done it? Who did she know so well that they could catch her off guard? But Katz was no help. Anyway, he still had a bug up his ass about Elena. Katz heard him call her from · the airport. First Bannerman, then her. Telling her he'd be coming. Did she know who did this? She hedged. Will she help him find out? Yes. Can you get me a gun? She answered with silence.
“What are you, out of your mind?” Katz railed at him. “How do you know it wasn't her who set Susan up? If she did this to me, you don't think she'd give a little taste to Susan for what you did?”
“It wasn't her. Forget it. ”
“I was right, wasn't I? You got the hots for her. She gives you a little sweet talk, probably just to throw you off, and all of a su
dden, by you she's Doris Day.”
“Listen…Katz. I got other things on my mind, all right?”
”l know,” “he said, softening. “Me, too. I'm her Uncle David, remember?'' Then he brightened. “Hey, you know what? Maybe l can talk to her. A coma 's like being asleep, right? Maybe I can ask her what happened.”
“You do that.”
“And God forbid she doesn't make it, l can take care of her, I think. ”
The thought brought a clammy sweat to Lesko's face. “David…shut up about that ”
“All I'm saying is if….”
“That happens, ” Lesko said darkly, “I'm going to shoot everybody involved, starting with Bannerman and the Reid guy, then I'm going to bite it myself so I can get my hands on you because none of this would have happened if you weren't dirty.”
“Shhhh.” Lesko heard the sound. “Mr. Lesko.” A woman's voice. Molly Farrell. She was shaking his arm.
He stayed quiet. And awake. In an hour the shades were lifted and the pilot announced that they had crossed the coast of France. The sky was still a deep purple. The flight attendant brought orange juice. Billy McHugh leaned close to his ear.
“Can I ask you something?”
Lesko was mildly surprised. The bartender-killer hadn't spoken since they left Westport. He'd been all business. “What?” he said.
“Before, were you dreaming or were you talking to somebody?”
Lesko closed his eyes. “Drink your juice.”
“Don't get embarrassed. I do that, too.”
“You do what, too?”
“Talk things over with a partner. It's good to do even if people think you're nuts sometimes. Even Paul does it. He told me.”
“That's very interesting,” Lesko squirmed.
“Anyway, you don't want to shoot Paul.”
Lesko moaned to himself. He'd said it aloud. That's why the shushing. He wondered if the washroom was free.
“You can't shoot him now, anyway. Molly and I both heard you. Don't take this personal, but either of us, we'd kill you the first time you looked cross-eyed at him.”
Lesko considered this. It brought up something he'd been wondering about. “You, I can believe,” he said. “But the lady with the sad eyes, she doesn't look so tough.”
“See?” Billy turned in his seat. He was warming to the subject. “That's another thing I always thought. Some people think looking big and ugly like us is bad, but it can be good. It can save you a lot of trouble, right?”
Lesko had to nod.
“People who look like Molly, and like Paul, too, they surprise you. People like you and me only surprise people when we're nice. That's funny, isn't it?”
Lesko resisted rolling his eyes. This was like talking to Katz. But he didn't mind. Maybe he could even learn something. “What kind of guy is Bannerman?”
“The best. You don't want to shoot him.”
“Who do I want to shoot?”
“You already said it. Palmer Reid.”
“I said that, too? Out loud?”
“Yeah.”
Lesko glanced across the aisle at Molly Farrell, whose hand was pressed against her mouth and whose eyes were shining. She was pretending not to listen but it was clear that she found this exchange amusing in the extreme.
Billy nudged him. “Your partner's name is Katz, right?’’
“Listen,” Lesko lowered his voice. “What do you say we get off this subject.”
“And he gets jealous,” Billy nodded understandingly. “I had one like that. I had another one who didn't like to work when it's hot.”
Lesko looked at him, scowling. “You're jerking my chain, right?” From across the aisle he heard a heave of Molly Farrell's chest.
“It's true,” Billy insisted. “You shouldn't be embarrassed, either. Paul had an Indian named Running Wolf and a girl in blue jeans named Jennifer. He told me.”
Lesko looked skyward. This conversation was approaching lunacy. All the more so because he now had no doubt of Billy's sincerity. He tried again, dropping his voice still further. “This Palmer Reid I should shoot. I know I should shoot him for Donovan but how about for my daughter?”
“For everything. It's always Palmer Reid.”
“There aren't times when it's someone else?”
“When it looks like someone else, that's when it's Palmer Reid the most.”
“Let me see if I got this.” Lesko looked pained. “We go down to Davos, we figure out what happened and who did it, and if the answer isn't Palmer Reid we know it's Palmer Reid.”
“Lesko,” Billy's eyes turned dead again. “You don't want to make fun of me.”
Lesko matched the look. “My daughter's in a coma. I look like I'm in the mood for jokes?”
“You asked me. I told you. You do what you want.”
The seat belt sign came on.
Bannerman returned to the hospital just before midnight. He'd napped, off and on, for two hours. Better than nothing. And it helped to clear his mind.
He was even less certain than before that the Basses were responsible for the attack upon Susan. It was a possibility, nothing more. If they were the ones, however, they might well not wait until morning to make another attempt. Granted they would have to get past the security guard and the night nurses. But a resourceful professional would always find a way. Better not to take the chance.
He checked the little room where the call director was. No one on duty. The security guard, however, was in place outside the glass partition in full view of Susan's curtained bed. He went in to look at her. Her face was different. There was a frown, a grimace, that had not been there earlier. A hand twitched. A leg quivered. He walked to the nurse's station.
“The cocaine is wearing off,” the duty nurse told him. “Her body is trying to purge itself of the poison.”
“She looks like she's in pain. Isn't that a good sign?”
“Perhaps,” the nurse said. But her eyes told Paul that it meant very little. A bodily function. A mechanical process involving her brain's circuitry but not its intellect. He returned to the corridor and sat.
An hour passed. His head had begun to nod when he heard movement at the outer glass door of the hospital. He stood up, tensed and waiting. Carla Benedict pushed through the inner door, Gary Russo following close behind. She approached him, hesitated, then hugged him. Gary Russo put his arms around them both.
They stayed for half an hour, Russo checking Susan's charts and talking to the duty nurse, Carla more subdued than usual. She'd blown an assignment, she knew it, but it was not within her to express remorse. Paul told them both to go. Get a few hours sleep. Carla was to take the first morning train to Zurich Airport. Be there to meet the flight. Report at once if they are detained by Swiss police or Immigration. Gary was to be back at the hospital by six. Watch the main entrance from outside. Warn him of any suspicious activity. Keep an eye open for a black Saab with a blue ski pod on top. If he sees one, let Paul know at once. Bannerman told the security guard he could quit at five. He found a coffee machine at the rear end of the main corridor. He settled down to wait.
It was half-past six, not yet full daylight, when he saw the young switchboard operator enter the front door and walk to her office. He stood up, walked toward it from the opposite direction, and as he did so, he noticed two figures standing in the half-light outside the hospital entrance. They stood motionless for a second or two, then, abruptly it seemed, pushed through the doors. Caroline entered first, Ray Bass close behind. Ray carried a box marked with the logo of the Dolder Grand Hotel. Caroline approached Paul with her arms extended, embracing him. They'd been up half the night, she said. Sick about this. No use trying to sleep so they came on down. Ray held up the box. Got the hotel to pack up some coffee and rolls for you, he said. How is she?
The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) Page 41