The naked edge

5

"You're lucky I'm on retainer to Global Protective Services." The doctor was a spectacled fifty-year-old, who'd once been a nurse in a mobile military hospital. She nodded toward Brockman, who lay in his bed, groggy from pain relievers.

"He'll need physical therapy on his knees and his torn rotator cuffs," she told Ali. "Considering all the damage you inflicted, another doctor would have phoned the police."

"Talk to Cavanaugh," Ali said. "He'll explain why it needed to be done this way."

Down the hall, in the exercise room, Brockman's cell phone rang. It wasn't the first time. Several times throughout the interrogation, calls had been attempted, none of which Ali had answered. Most callers had left messages, all of them related to GPS business, wondering why Brockman hadn't reported for work in New Orleans.

Only one caller had not left a message. The phone's display had shown the name William Scagel and a telephone number.

Now, as the phone rang again, Ali left the bedroom and walked to the exercise room.

After six rings, the phone stopped. Ali went to a table, where the cell phone sat next to Brockman's pistol and claw knife. Its display again showed the name William Scagel.

Troubled, he unclipped his own phone from his belt and pressed numbers.

Two rings later, Cavanaugh answered. "I hope this is good news."

"Just a question. Does the name William Scagel mean anything to you?"

"Hell, yes. Scagel was a famous knife maker. Where did his name come up?"

"He's been calling Brockman's cell phone and his home phone. But he doesn't leave a message."

The transmission was silent for a moment. "It's Carl."

"Hang on. Let's find out if he left a message this time." Ali pressed buttons on Brockman's cell phone.

"What's the telephone number on the display?" Cavanaugh's voice asked.

Ali dictated the numbers to him, then listened for a message on Brockman's phone. An electronic hiss indicated that something had in fact been recorded. Leaning against the table, shifting Brockman's weapons aside, Ali waited, hopeful. The hiss was interrupted by an electronic shriek.

The exercise room blew apart.