The Deadliest Game: An Edward Mendez, P. I. Thriller

by Gerard Denza

  The police outside formed a human gauntlet to get people out of the immediate area and off the block altogether. Despite this, curious onlookers gathered across the street.

  Inside the building, Sgt. Rayno and his men were waiting for their elevator that would take them directly up to the 50th floor.

  -Come on, already.

  Another officer was with him and two men in radiation gear.

  -Is the damned thing stuck?

  -It's coming down, Sergeant. What happens when we get up there?

  -We take every inch of that floor apart. And, I mean everything – carpets, desk drawers, paintings...everything. And, just pray we're in time.

  -Or?

  -Or we'll be blown sky high with the top half of this building.

  -Sorry I asked.

  The elevator arrived and the four men got in.

  -Press for the 50th floor, officer.

  The elevator started up.

  -Sgt, Rayno?

  -What is it?

  -What happens when we find it? This thing is “hot.”

  -If you spot it, mover away real quick and alert these two boys right here.

  The elevator passed the 20th floor.

  -We're almost halfway there.

  Sgt. Rayno turned to the two technicians.

  -You boys all set? Once we find this- this bomb, we've gotta clear it out, pronto. The demolition truck should be arriving any second now. Once we hit the 50th floor, we'll put this elevator on hold.

  -What about the tenants in the building? Shouldn't they be evacuated?

  -No time and it would only cause panic and get in the way of our own operation. Every damn second counts here.

  -Look. We just passed the 40th floor. My ears just popped.

  -Start getting ready, boys. You know which office we go into first.

  -To the right as we step off.

  The office door was locked. Sgt. Rayno took out his gun and blasted the lock open and kicked in the door.

  -Okay. Go to it!

  Sgt. Rayno went straight to the room where Octavio had been. He pulled open every desk drawer and ransacked through it. Then, he pulled it out, flipped it over and tossed it to the floor. He checked under the desk and the chair. He went to the filing cabinets and emptied out each and every file folder. He found nothing. He called one of the technicians in.

  -Scan this room. Hit every corner with the friggin' Geiger counter.

  The technician did as he was ordered and found no trace of radiation. Then, the Geiger counter gave off a crackle.

  -Christ!

  Before the Sergeant could react, the other technician called out from the hallway.

  -Sgt. Rayno! Out here in the hallway. It's pretty strong.

  Sgt. Rayno cursed himself.

  -We should have turned the damned things on when we got off the elevator. Let's get out there.

  The four men followed the Geiger counter's readings along the narrow hallway until-

  -Man! The needle's skipping off the machine, Sergeant. You two better stay out here.

  The two technicians went into the Men's room and let the Geiger counter do the searching. It didn't take long to find the piece. It was hidden in the cistern of the first stall.

  -Here. Open the box and I'll take it out with the tongs.

  Carefully, the technician dipped the metal tongs into the cistern and pulled out the segment and the timing device that was attached to it. He placed them into the lead container.

  -Got it! Let's get the hell out of here.

  They rejoined Sgt. Rayno and the police officer in the hallway.

  -You got it?

  -It's in here. It's just a fragment. It's affixed to some kind of timing device.

  -Can we get the timer off of it?

  -Too risky, Sgt. Rayno. We don't know what we're dealing with here. Let's get it downstairs and out of the building first.

  Sgt. Rayno was forced to agree.

  -Okay. Into the elevator, men. Hurry!

  The four men started down and the timer did not go off, but something in the elevator triggered off the piece. It went off when the elevator car reached the 35th floor. All four men were killed instantly along with every occupant on the five floors above and below. Other occupants in the building were either seriously injured by the initial explosion or poisoned by the intense radiation. The building's structural integrity remained intact.

  Debris and glass rained down on to the street below. Pedestrians and police dodged the radioactive debris, but some were hit and injured.

  The area around the building was cordoned off while the remaining occupants were evacuated along with the injured. The elevators were out of commission and the tenants had to be escorted down the one remaining stairwell in the dark. No electricity, the building's main generator was damaged. Ambulances arrived on the scene and more squad cars. Chaos was being replaced by order and a grimness that matched the catastrophe.

  Louis Octavio was removed to St. Luke's isolation ward. He was a dying man. He was unconscious when taken out of the precinct house. His deal making days were over along with his murderous acts.

  Dr. Claire Ingram was called in. Lt. Donovan and Edward were waiting for her to come out of the contamination unit. Finally, she emerged.

  -He's dead.

  Dr. Ingram was her usual brutally frank self.

  -The body will have to be buried as radioactive waste. It's interesting though how his body's interior was so highly infected and yet the epidermis was relatively low level radiation. It's as if the internal organs soaked up the contamination like some sort of sponge which I know makes absolutely no sense.

  Edward and Lt. Donovan were listening, but their thoughts strayed to their dead colleague, Sgt. Rayno. Neither man had spoken to each other about it nor to anyone else. Miss Raymond had quietly wept, but had not given voice to her feelings nor had Ginny Gray who was down at the crime scene and making a nuisance of herself.

  Dr. Ingram continued.

  -I'd like to see this “stone” or whatever it is. The radiation and its intensity and the inexplicable falling off could be applied to certain cancer treatments being worked on right now. It's not as far fetched as it sounds.

  Neither Edward nor Lt. Donovan responded.

  -Gentlemen? Just one last word. The radiation poisoning in Mr. Octavio suggested a sudden build-up. He wasn't sick for that long. He was only infected – and this is an educated guess –no more than a week ago – ten days, at most. Gentlemen?

  Edward spoke up.

  -I'm sorry, Doctor Ingram; but, we just lost a colleague and good friend. Sgt. Rayno was killed in that midtown blast.

  Dr. Ingram took off her glasses.

  -I'm sorry. Truly. Anyway, you may want to exhume those two men who were murdered in the Diamond District the other day. I'd like to do an autopsy on them.

  Professor Moreland was having a cup of coffee with Miss Raymond at the 86th precinct house. The coffee was good because Miss Raymond had made it. The Professor had taken the initiative of visiting the precinct house after hearing of the midtown explosion.

  -Cream and sugar, Professor?

  -No. Thank you, Miss Raymond. I take it black.

  -Here you go. Professor? You're sitting across from me, but your mind is someplace else. Whereabouts' is it, if I may ask?

  He took a sip of the hot coffee.

  -You're a perceptive young woman.

  Miss Raymond waited for him to continue. When he did not, she picked up the slack

  -It would have to be a problem of considerable consequence because the one we're tackling now is pretty intense. Professor, are you with me?

  -I'm afraid, Miss Raymond, that my problem is theoretical for the time being.

  -You mean that the problem doesn't exist yet? Is that what you're saying?

  -It's on the perimeter of existence.

  -It might help to get another opinion.

&n
bsp; -You've enough on your plate as it is. They have recovered the bulk of the stone and the money, I take it. I'm aware that Central Park was closed off.

  Miss Raymond did her professional best not to react to that last statement. This man knew too much.

  -Is that what brings you here, Professor Moreland?

  -What will happen with the stone that was recovered today by Mr. Mendez? It's been shipped to the Aberdeen proving grounds?

  Now, Miss Raymond had to ask her question.

  -Who gave you that information?

  -An educated guess. I worked with the military during the war. So, it is now in our possession.

  Miss Raymond wasn't about to answer a disguised inquiry. Let this man guess all he wanted to.

  -I'm not following your line of reasoning, Professor Moreland. Are you implying that the stone is better off someplace else?

  He put down his coffee.

  -Not at all, Miss Raymond. The stone, at the present time, doesn't concern me. Perhaps, I'd better leave. Good day.

  Miss Raymond finished her coffee.

  -Don't go. What does concern you?

  -A woman by the name of Marlena Lake,

  -I know of her.

  -She is a pompous ass who had the gall to engage me in my own office the other day. She asked the wrong questions, Miss Raymond. Miss Lake wanted to know about the Earth...she should have been asking about the satellite that orbits it.

  Professor Moreland got up.

  -I must go. Good day.

  December 4, 1948

  Friends From the Past

  Seventeen

  THE RADIATION count in the BMT subway tunnel had diminished to a safety level. The LL train that was destroyed could be removed along with the remaining corpses. At 500 5th Ave. the level of radiation that engulfed the surrounding floors was also beginning to level off. The building had been evacuated along with the adjoining buildings and the main branch of the public library across the street.

  Edward Mendez was in his office and listening to the radio. The Mayor reopened the transit system both above ground and below with the exception of the LL line. Ridership had not been affected despite the ongoing fear and uncertainty. Fifth Ave. between 40th and 43rd St. was closed to traffic.

  Edward turned off the radio and lit a cigarette. As far as anyone knew, one piece was still missing and could go off at any second. Every available cop was on duty and guarding the city. The undercover unit was searching every possible hiding place in all five boroughs which was a pretty daunting task considering the size and population of the city. Chances were that if it didn't go off, it might never be found.

  Edward was doubtful about that last chance. It was meant to go off. What triggered the damned explosion...the timer...the vibration...what?

  He took a deep drag on his cigarette. His mind kept coming back to his murdered sister. She was dead and the little there was in her diary was not helpful.

  -Those two friends of hers: Linda Silverman and Rachel Schwartz. I think I'll track those two characters down. I can't just sit here on my backside.

  He picked up the phone book and sorted through it for the two girls' surnames. He had no trouble finding them. He dialed Linda's number first.

  -Hello?

  -Edward Mendez calling. May I speak with Linda Silverman, please?

  -This is she. Why are you calling?

  Christ! She even sounds like Catrina, that same clipped manner of speaking.

  -Miss Silverman? This is Catrina's brother, Edward. You knew my sister and that's the reason I'm calling. You may have information vital to a case I'm working on.

  -How is that possible? I haven't spoken to your sister for quite some time.

  Edward's patience was almost gone with this bitch.

  -May I come over sometime today?

  -Very well, Mr. Mendez. Six this evening and I can't spare you much time, so please be prompt.

  -Thank you.

  Edward slammed the phone down. He took a few drags on his cigarette to get his usually even keeled temper back. He dialed Rachel's number. It took a few rings for someone to answer.

  -Hello?

  -Hello. Edward Mendez calling. May I speak with Rachel Schwartz, please?

  -Of course, I'll get her for you.

  A human being!

  -Hello? Is this Edward Mendez? I'm Rachel. I've read about you in the papers. You're Catrina's brother.

  -Yes. I am. Rachel, I need to speak with you about a case I'm working on.

  -Me? How exciting! What can I do to help?

  -May I come over? I'd like to speak to you in person.

  -Sure. What time?

  -Say around six-thirty this evening if it's not interrupting your dinner.

  -Heck no, Mr. Mendez. I'm the bohemian type. I keep real odd hours. See you around six-thirty.

  How did Catrina ever become friends with such an affable person? He had a thought: he'd take Yolanda with him. It might be a little intimidating for those two ladies to face him on their own. Having a woman with him would soften the effect.

  Eighteen

  EDWARD SPENT the rest of the morning and early afternoon catching up on paper work, going to the barber's downstairs for a haircut and getting his shoes polished.

  He was in his car heading uptown to the ice rink to pick up Yolanda. He was driving by 14th St. when he noticed a '31 Buick turn the corner behind him. But, his thoughts at the moment were about Sgt. Rayno. His ice hockey friend was dead. The one person at the 86th St. precinct he trusted. They had tickets for tonight's Rangers game at Madison Square Garden. Edward still had the tickets in his coat pocket.

  The P. I. pulled up to the ice rink and waited for Yolanda. The '31 Buick drove by but Edward barely noticed it.

  Yolanda came out of the front entrance with her duffel bag and after a welcoming kiss and embrace, the couple headed out to Brooklyn.

  -So, you want me along to soften that masculine blow?

  -You're perceptive, baby, and you've got that feminine insight. This Linda chick sounded as cold as the North Pole.

  -And, you want me to chip away at the ice?

  -Something like that. You'll know what to do when we get there. Just play it by ear.

  -And, this other woman...Rachel? You know, Edward, they won't be so young anymore.

  The P. I. laughed. He turned on the car's windshield wipers. A light snow was beginning to fall.

  -I hadn't thought of that. You see? We haven't even gotten there and you're already two steps ahead of me.

  -So, what about Rachel? Was she nicer than ice cold Linda?

  -By a couple of football fields. Said she was the bohemian type.

  -Edward, you know, they're thinking about declaring Marshall Law. I just heard it on the radio before I left the rink.

  -I'll be damned. But, I can understand why. You know, baby, I've got one problem with this: if Octavio didn't plant this hypothetical third bomb, then it must have been one of the goons in the gray van.

  -What about that woman, Eileen Kobe, the one Octavio killed?

  -Maybe.

  -But, you don't think so.

  -I don't. From the little we know of her, she just doesn't fit the pattern.

  -So, why are we seeing these two women?

  -Because, my sister had to confide in someone. I'm counting on that.

  They crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge and headed toward Borum Hill which wasn't that far from the Mendez home. Edward found a parking space easily enough.

  -Well, here goes nothing.

  Yolanda looked at her wristwatch.

  -It's almost six o'clock, so we're on time. She said that she couldn't spare you much time.

  Edward turned off the windshield wipers.

  -Which is probably a blessing in disguise. Let's head on in.

  The door was opened by Linda Silverman. She was a petite and thin woman who was well “coiffed” as Edward's sister Victoria wou
ld phrase it. She showed them into an over decorated living room.

  -Linda? I know that you can't spare much time.

  -I stated that over the phone.

  -Yes. You did. I'll get straight to the point. My sister was murdered two days ago. She was beaten to death.

  No reaction.

  -Go on.

  -Yes. Did she ever confide in you-

  -We had many confidences which I will not betray.

  Edward took out a cigarette, but didn't light up.

  -You may have to. I came here on a matter of life and death. Did she ever – and please don't interrupt – mention a Mr. Louis Octavio or a Mr. Ricardo Montenegro? This concerns the recent bombings in the city.

  Edward and Yolanda waited for an answer. Yolanda could see that the woman sitting opposite her had had a face-lift recently. It hardened her look and even accentuated the tiny lines around the woman's eyes.

  -I don't know how I can help you. Your sister and I have not been in contact for years.

  -Did you part friends?

  Yolanda asked that question and it took Linda by surprise.

  -Why do you ask?

  Yolanda smiled coyly at this acerbic woman.

  -You haven't answered my question, Miss Silverman.

  -The name Octavio was mentioned...but I don't remember the context.

  Edward leaned forward.

  -I think you do, lady.

  -Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Mendez?

  -What did Catrina say about Mr. Octavio?

  -I don't recall.

  Liar! Edward tried a different tact.

  -Did Catrina ever give you anything? A keepsake or present?

  -We never exchanged presents.

  -Never? I don't believe you. Don't hold out on me, Miss Silverman. If I have to, I'll bring the police with me next time and that's not an idle threat.

  Linda got up.

  -I've answered your questions. And, now I must ask you to leave.

  Edward knew it would be useless to press her. He and Yolanda left.

  Back in the Ford.

  -Edward, she was lying. Did you notice how her eyes kept darting to the upstairs part of the house?