Silent Treatment

Chapter38

Four o'clock. . five. . five-thirty. . The phone in Harry's apartment continued ringing almost incessantly. Thebizarre events surrounding the gunman at Manhattan Medical Center, followed bythe execution-style slaying of Caspar Sidonis, had thrust him into the centerof the media spotlight. Maura sat alone in the den, watching the story evolveon local and national TV as she used the answering machine to screen calls. TheSimpson and Tonya Harding cases had dominated the airwaves more, but not bythat much. Stations were breaking for updates every five or ten minutes, andone was rehashing the events continuously. Footage of Sidonis's life and manyaccomplishments was beginning to appear.

Maura was emotionally and physicallyexhausted. But she was far too keyed up and worried about Harry to sleep.Tucked between the pillows of the sofa was the note that a man named White haddelivered just a few hours before.

Maura-

I'm okay. Meet me at 10 a.m.right in front of the place where we first met with Walter. If I don't show up,try again in three hours. I will do the same. Take several different cabs, thenthe subway, then walk. Be careful. You will probably be followed.

Love, Harry

White would say nothing to her except thatHarry was unharmed and safe. An hour later, Albert Dickinson had come up to seeher. Guns drawn, he and another policeman had searched the apartment. Despitethe other officer, Dickinson was as abrasive and disrespectful as he had beenin the hospital. He had no patience for hearing any stories from her aboutHarry Corbett's innocence, Anton Perchek, or anyone else. All he wanted to knowwas where he could find his man.

'Miss Hughes, do you know the penalties inthis state for aiding and abetting a fugitive wanted for murder?' he asked. 'Ifyou know where Corbett is, and you don't tell us, I promise that you will spendmost of the rest of life in prison.'

'I can't imagine a prison that could beany more unpleasant than this conversation,' Maura said, smiling sweetly.

'Being a wiseass must be generic. I'mpleased to tell you we just gave that detective's job away to someone who wasmore of a team player and less of a wiseass than your Yalie brother.'

'Lieutenant, if you're going to smoke,you'll have to do it outside.'

Maura pointed to the sixth-story windowrather than the door. For a frozen moment, she thought Dickinson was going tostrike her. Finally, with a fuck you, he stormed out. She triple-lockedthe door behind him, actually managing a smile at the new definition of 'policelock.'

Now, she sat back and watched reruns ofthe interviews with MMC officials, nurses, police, the electrician victimizedby the gunman, and Max Garabedian. The only news was the old news that thebogus Garabedian had been neither apprehended nor identified, but thatfingerprints lifted from the hospital room were being analyzed.

Go Ray, she silently cheered.

She was pleased that at no time during thedifficult, stressful night had she felt the urge to drink. But she also knewthat she needed to sleep. She set the alarm for 8:30, turned off the ringer onall the phones in the apartment, and positioned the answering machine not farfrom her head. If Harry did call with a change of plans, she at least wanted achance to hear his message. Finally, she picked up one of the phones.

'You guys get some rest,' she said. Thenshe slammed the receiver back down.

At eight A.M., a message from the producerof Inside Edition worked its way into her consciousness. He waspromising Harry enough money to hire a first-class defense team in exchange foran exclusive on his story. She showered, made some coffee, and glanced out thewindow. Cloudy, but no rain. C.C.'s Cellar wasn't all that far from the co-op,but she wanted to allow an hour to get there. She would take a cab across townand down to somewhere near the UN. Then she would cut back by foot to a subwaystation. Then another cab and perhaps a trip through a store with multipleexits. And finally, a third cab to within a block or two of the club. It seemedto her that in a place as crowded as Manhattan, with subways and so many storesto duck into, it shouldn't be that hard to ensure that she wasn't beingfollowed.

She dressed in jeans, sneakers, and aplaid button-down shirt, and then selected a deep cloth bag from a collectionof them in Evie's closet. She dropped in her wallet, the dark wig she had wornin the hospital, and a white shirt in case she needed to change her look. Then,just in case, she threw in a shirt, jeans, and sneakers for Harry. It wasdoubtful he was going to be returning to the apartment in any hurry. Therevolver she kept strapped in front of her in her leather fanny pack. Thesecurity of having it at hand felt greater than the fear of being arrested forcarrying an unlicensed handgun.

She took the stairs down six flights,startling Rocky Martino when she came through the stairway door behind him. Hebolted to his feet and stepped back, but not before Maura caught a strong whiffof alcohol. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands slightly tremulous, but hemade a laudable stab at decorum.

'Miss Hughes, you gave me a bit of afright,' he said, moistening his lips with his tongue. 'What can I do for you?'

Maura wondered how many times she had doneas ineffectual job at covering up her intoxication as Rocky was doing, all thewhile thinking, as he probably was, that she was pulling it off.

'Could you please call me a cab?' shesaid, fumbling through the bag for her wallet.

'Yes, ma'am,' Martino said. 'No problem.Any word from Dr. Corbett?'

'No, Rocky. Nothing.'

'Well, my fingers are crossed that he'sokay.'

He stepped back from the desk. Withexaggerated broad-based steps, he shuffled outside and waved up the street.Moments later, a cab pulled up. Maura handed Rocky a one, hesitated, and thengave him a five as well.

'Take a break and have breakfast on me,Rocky,' she said.

He jammed the bills in his pants.

'Oh, I will, ma'am. I will.'

Something about his smile made Maura feeluneasy. She hurried past him into the cab.

'The UN,' she ordered, immediately lookingbehind them as they pulled away. 'I'll tell you how I want you to go. Don'tworry if it's not the most direct way. I'll pay.'

The cabby nodded.

If there was someone following them, theywere damn good. Within a block, Maura was convinced that the street behind themwas clear. It was possible that someone was driving in front of them with aradio, but she could take care of that soon enough. They passed a newsstand.She could see Harry's photo on every front page. Hey, read all about it!Doctor Death Strikes Again! There was nothing the least bit witty orromantic or adventurous about any of this anymore. For a time last night,perched in that tree by the landfill, thinking everything was about to work outfor them, she had felt like Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief or AudreyHepburn in Charade. This morning she felt deflated, exhausted, andfrightened. She tried to imagine how Harry had felt when he lifted up the trunkof his car.

They were on Broadway now, heading south.She counted off three more blocks.

'Turn right here,' she ordered. The cabcontinued going straight. She rapped on the Plexiglas shield. 'Hey, I said,turn right here.'

The cab made a sharp left, heading for thepark. Halfway down the block, it began to slow. Maura stopped pounding on thePlexiglas. Desperately, she tried to figure out what was happening. She thoughtabout the gun in the pack strapped around her waist, but she sensed that whatshe needed was just to get the hell out of this cab. She reached for the doorjust as the electronic locks snapped open. The cab was still rolling. Suddenly,her door was snatched open. A man jumped in almost on top of her. He was agiant, perhaps six-six, and broad across the shoulders. He shoved her asidewith one hand as if she were a doll. Her head struck the window, just behind herhealed incision. Without a word of instruction, the driver accelerated, cuttingback west, toward the Hudson.

Maura recognized the behemoth immediately.He was Perchek's thug — the survivor from the pack. Snarling, she leapt at him,pounding at his face with her right hand as she tried to unzip the fanny packwith her left. Her first blow, with her fist, caught him on the bone just abovehis eye. He cried out, pawing at it with one hand, lashing out at her with theother. She ducked under his first blow and felt her hand inside the pack closeon the grip of the revolver. In one motion, she pulled it out, jammed themuzzle into his ribs, and fired.

Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Theone chance she might have had was gone. The killer snatched the gun away andslapped her viciously across the face. Her lip split and tore against herteeth. Her head snapped back against the window. Then she pitched face-forwardalmost on to his lap.

'Safety, safety,' he teased, his voicesurprisingly high-pitched. 'We mustn't try to shoot our little gun until werelease the safety.'

He grabbed her by the neck and pulled herupright. She spit at him, spattering his shirt and face with blood. He wipedoff his cheek with the back of his hand, slowly, furiously. And then he hit heragain, as forcefully as the first time. Now, she was limp. He pushed her downto her knees and roughly pressed her face on to the seat.

'We're looking for your pal Corbett,' hesaid.

'I don't know,' Maura managed. Her facewas throbbing and his grip on her neck was hurting as well. But she wasdetermined not to give him the pleasure of making her cry. 'I don't know wherehe is or even if he's alive.'

The killer pulled Harry's shirt out of herbag. He jerked her face up to show her.

'Sure you don't,' he said.

'Even if I did know where he was, I'dnever tell you.'

He pressed her face back into the seat.

'The Doctor will be pleased to hear that,'he said.

The most sought-after fugitive in New Yorkcarefully maneuvered the huge Winnebago Luxor through the streets of Manhattan,trying not to attract any unnecessary attention. He was sticking as much aspossible to the broad, north-south avenues, terrified of turning on to acrosstown street that was narrowed with trucks or construction. Spending mostof his life in the city, where his car often remained in the parking garage forweeks at a time, his driving was rusty. Backing up the BMW often presented achallenge. Backing the motor home out of a narrow city street lined on bothsides with cars would be potential disaster. His picture was all over theplace. A fender bender, a cop, an arrest. It would probably be that simple.

It was ten minutes of ten. Harry waseasing his way down Columbus Avenue, trying to time it so that he turned on toFifty-sixth at exactly ten. Once he had Maura, they could get out of the cityand find a place to stop and sort things out. There were those who knew, or atleast believed, he was innocent — Maura, Tom Hughes, Mary Tobin, KevinLoomis, Steve Josephson, Doug Atwater, Julia Ransome, Phil, Gail. Harry glanceddown at the console-mounted clipboard and the pad on which he was writing downthe names, and added Ray Santana to the list. He had a number of friends, workassociates, and even patients who would be hard-pressed ever to believe he wascapable of any crime, let alone murder. But the question was who amongthem would be willing to take chances for him.

Together, he and Maura would be able tofigure out something — especially if they were somehow able to locate Ray.Santana had contributed mightily to the mess he was in, but he certainly hadn'tcaused it. Now, if he could be brought together with Loomis, a breakthrough wasquite possible. If. First Harry had to reconnect with Maura; then he hadto do what he could to ensure that Kevin Loomis stayed alive; and finally, hehad to find Santana — and do it all while keeping himself out of jail. FirstThings First, he thought, recalling one of the blue and gold banners he hadseen on the wall of the AA meeting. First Things First.

He turned on to Fifty-sixth Street.Gratefully, there were no delivery trucks, road crews, or double parkers. Butthere was also no Maura. The front of C.C.'s was deserted, and the place lookedto be locked up. Harry slowed and considered stopping to check the door. But aninsistent horn from behind saved him the trouble of making a decision. He droveup Amsterdam for a few blocks, then swung over to Columbus and made anotherpass. Nothing. He tried calling her apartment and his, but got answeringmachines in both places. There was no answer at C.C.'s. Finally, he paged Phil.

'Hey, Harry,' Phil said. 'Good to hearfrom you. I think I caught some little item about you on the news orsomeplace.'

'Very funny. How are Gail and the kidsholding up?'

'Let's just say we're all having to defendthe family name a bit. How're you doing?'

'Thanks to you, I'm still on the loose.Phil, that note I gave you set up a meeting with Maura. But so far she hasn'tshowed. Are you sure it was delivered?'

'Positive. I spoke to Ziggy this morning.He put it in her hand personally at about three A.M.'

'Shit.'

'Anything I can do?'

'Not for now. You've done more than enoughalready. Phil, thanks, I'll be in touch.'

'Just take good care of my baby, there.I've been promising Gail a weekend away in her. Now that you've gotten firstdibs, I'm going to have to deliver.'

Harry cruised around his loop for almostan hour, careful to widen or shorten it each time. No Maura. Something wasdefinitely wrong. He got Kevin Loomis's home phone number from information andtried him there. Daddy was at the store getting ice for a party, a childinformed him. Mommy was in the bathroom. Harry said he'd call back in an hour.

It was nearly eleven — almost two hoursbefore the second scheduled try at connecting outside C.C.'s. Harry would bethere, but he felt almost certain that Maura would not. Perchek? Dickinson?Booze? Of the three, only a fall off the wagon seemed unlikely. He checkedthe gas gauge and the rest of the jet plane dashboard panel. No problems … sofar. He headed downtown.

The only option he had, it seemed, was totry and find Ray Santana. He had no desire to put Mary Tobin at risk, but hereally had no choice. Besides, he thought smiling, in any match between theauthorities and Mary, his sympathies would have to go out to the cops. Hereached her at home. As he expected, she was anxious to do whatever she couldto help him and had an enormous extended family who were willing to help out aswell.

'My son-in-law, Darryl, is the only onewho has bad-mouthed you,' she said. 'He'll be back home just as soon as theyfinish the X rays and the stitches. An' that's just from my daughter. He'llstill have to deal with me.'

It took almost forty-five minutes for herto get Walter Concepcion's address and number and make it back home. As soon asshe entered the office, the two policemen who were staking out the place hadbarged in and questioned her.

'We're going to get him,' one of them hadsaid. 'Just don't you be helping him when we do.'

'I've got twenty-one grandchildren andseven great-grandchildren, young man,' Mary replied. 'I'm sure you'll be a bighit with your family and fellow officers when you haul me off to jail.'

At precisely noon, she called Harry withConcepcion's number and address and a report of her conversation with police.He called immediately and got no answer. Then, when he was a block away fromthe rooming house, he tried again. This time, Santana picked up. Three minuteslater, he loped out of the house and jumped into the passenger seat. Harry knewthe moment he saw the man that his anger had gone. He was merely grateful thatwhere there had been one, now there were two. He swung on to the Harlem RiverDrive, heading north.

'Now this is my idea of a getaway car,'Santana said. Ray was well past needing a shave and looked as wasted and hyperas Harry had ever seen him.

'It's a loaner from my brother. I'm gladyou got away. Are you all right? You don't look so hot.'

'Just the usual, only more of it thanusual. I screwed up at the hospital. I'm really sorry.'

'Was it Perchek you saw?'

'No, not Perchek. It was Garvey, Harry.Sean Garvey, the bastard who served me up to Perchek. I was lying there halfasleep when I heard his voice outside the door. It's been seven years, but Iknew in two seconds that it was him. Our eyes met and he recognized me, too.I'm certain of it. He was with a bunch of people in suits. He's lightened hishair and had some sort of stuff done to his face, but it was him. By the time Ireached the doorway of my room, he was pulling away from me. I … lost my cooland fired at him. The rest I guess you know.'

'Do you have any idea who Garvey is now?What he might be doing at a hospital in New York?'

'None. After Nogales, he disappeared,almost into thin air. He either had some powerful friends in high places, or hehad the goods on them. I pulled every string I could to find him. Nothing. Norecords he ever worked for the government. No Social Security number. No taxreturns. Nothing. Witness relocation times fifty. I called in ever marker Icould think of around the agency and the CIA. Zip. You have coffee in here?'

Harry motioned the thermos. Santana pouredhimself a cup and then flipped on the nine-inch television bolted on a swivelatop the passenger-side dash. The reporter was updating developments in thedual manhunt for Dr. Harry Corbett and a man tentatively identified as RaymondSantana, a former DEA undercover agent, whose fingerprints were among thosetaken from Grey 218.

'So much for the element of surprise,' Raysaid. 'It was only a matter of time. You think Maura's in trouble?'

'I know she is. Listen, I'm goingto head back to the club soon. The note I sent her said we'd try again at oneif either of us didn't show up.'

'That body in your trunk sounds like Perchek'swork. Do you suppose he's got her?'

Harry shook his head. 'I don't want tothink about it.'

'First this Roundtable, then Perchek, andnow goddamn Sean Garvey to boot. This is really the mother lode, Harry.'

'Where do you think we should start?. .Ray? …'

Santana, eyes narrowed, was peering at thescreen from just a few inches away.

'Douglas Atwater, vice president ofManhattan Health. You know him, Harry?'

'I know him well. He's one of my fewenduring supporters at the hospital.'

'He's on this station live, right now,issuing a plea for you to give yourself up before anyone gets hurt.'

'So?'

'Well,' Santana said, 'your enduringsupporter at the hospital is also the man I tried to kill yesterday.'

'Garvey?'

'In the flesh.'