Wolf Hour

34 Orange, October 2016

The joint terrorism task force consisted of people from MPD and the FBI. They had a building all to themselves, within walking distance of the city hall. As soon as Kay walked into the reception area with Walker and Hanson, she noticed that the place was superior to their own — and when they entered the well-lit meeting room which already held eight people she noted that the suits and the outfits were better quality too.

Following a quick round of introductions she learned that four of them were MPD, two FBI and two were from the mayor’s own security office.

‘Thanks for making it here to JTTF at such short notice,’ said Ted Springer, who was wearing a pinstriped Wall Street suit instead of the standard undifferentiated FBI black. Kay picked up at once that he was appointing himself head of whatever was about to happen. But Springer also understood that, at this stage of the proceedings, it was Homicide Division that had all the information, and so he handed over to Walker, who in turn handed over to Kay. She didn’t have time to feel the nerves she sometimes felt when addressing a group but went straight into an account of the murder and attempted murder Tomás Gomez was believed to have committed, the hunt for him and the suspicion that Gomez was now focusing on the US Bank Stadium and Mayor Kevin Patterson. A couple of seconds’ silence followed her account. Then Springer spoke.

‘So this Gomez has twice evaded you by the use of restrooms?’

Kay noticed the implied criticism but ignored it.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It almost seems like he plans to let us know where he is, get us on his tail, and then disappear.’

‘You don’t think he just got lucky twice in a row? What motive would Gomez have for this kind of game?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Kay. ‘Maybe he just wants to send a message.’

‘What kind of message would that be, Myers?’

Kay exchanged looks with Walker before responding. ‘That he’s a ghost. That if he wants to hit Kevin Patterson at the US Bank Stadium then we can’t stop him.’

‘You are aware that it’s forbidden for members of the public to bear arms at a sports stadium, even when it’s not being used for a sports event?’

‘Yes,’ said Kay.

‘And yet you still believe he thinks the US Bank Stadium is a good idea?’

Kay noticed how Springer tugged at the sleeves of his suit despite the fact that it must be, she was guessing, made to measure. ‘Yes.’

‘And you think he believes he can outsmart the MPD which alone has over a thousand operatives, as well as the FBI?’

‘I’m not saying he’s right about it, just that that’s the way I think he thinks.’

‘Well, Miss Myer,’ said Springer — Kay suspected he omitted the final ‘s’ on purpose — ‘murder is your business, and there are all sorts of sad and banal stories behind every case and the guilty parties are almost invariably inadequate people. But terrorists on the other hand, no matter how crazy they may be, are often rational and intelligent people, and certainly as regards their operational methods. So if that is what Gomez is planning, he knows perfectly well that in threatening the life of the mayor he is going to have every police officer in the city on his trail. Of course, it is not unheard of to get terrorists with deep personality disorders, but in the majority of cases the terrorist does everything he can to ensure the success of his mission. Put bluntly, if we’ve uncovered a plan to kill the mayor at the stadium then Gomez has screwed up already. This tells me that we’re dealing with an amateur. Sure, he’s still dangerous. But this is someone we have the competence and the professionalism to stop before the situation becomes critical.’

Something in the way he said ‘we’ gave Kay the feeling that the ‘competence and professionalism’ didn’t necessarily include the Homicide Department.

‘I hear what you’re saying,’ said Kay, noticing that her voice sounded harsher than she intended. ‘But if I were the JTTF I would not underestimate Gomez.’

Springer gave a thin smile. ‘Yes, but that’s true of most things in life. In dealing with terrorism the trick is neither to underestimate nor overestimate. We simply don’t have enough resources to follow up on every threat, and that means being sure you make the real threats your priority.’

‘Like vegetarians at a potluck dinner?’ It just popped out of Kay’s mouth and the silence in the already quiet room deepened. A few years back, JTTF had been ridiculed in the press following revelations that they had infiltrated a group of vegetarians who sometimes gathered to share meals with each other. And not much else, as it turned out. Walker sent her a warning glance and she read his message: don’t trip up.

Springer turned to Hanson. ‘How about you, Detective? Do you share your colleague’s view of this man Gomez?’

Hanson gave a start, obviously taken by surprise.

‘Hm,’ he said. He thought about it, linked his hands behind his head in an exaggerated attempt to look relaxed. ‘On this I’m more in line with you guys in the JTTF.’ A wide grin spread across his face. ‘I mean, we’re talking here about a Mexican with no papers who’s been living in a rathole up in Jordan. Doesn’t exactly sound like a criminal mastermind, does it?’

No one laughed.

‘What does the mayor’s office say?’ Springer asked, turning to the man and the woman sitting further along the table.

‘Well,’ said the woman, a blonde with blue eyeliner, ‘the mayor is very clear that he doesn’t intend to cancel his participation. If the threat becomes public, we’ll quote him to that effect in a press statement.’ She put on a pair of glasses and read from the screen of her computer: ‘...I would view it as an admission of bankruptcy for the city if one single illegal immigrant should succeed in preventing me from doing my job as the city’s democratically elected mayor.’ She looked up. ‘So unless anyone here has information that indicates we’re dealing with powerful forces here?’

Kay was on the point of responding but stopped when she saw Walker’s almost imperceptible shake of the head.

‘Right,’ said Springer. ‘We’ll have a threat assessment ready in a few hours, and I suggest that meanwhile we grade this orange, does that sound OK?’

Kay saw the others round the table nodding. Springer looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

‘You disagree, Myer?’

‘Myers. I don’t know what orange means.’

‘In this instance it means that the level of security around the mayor and his family is raised immediately and maintained until after the arrangement ends. Same goes for the NRA leaders currently visiting the city. That sound OK to you, Myers?’

It wasn’t what he said, nor the exaggerated stress he laid on the final ‘s’ of her name that made her cheeks flush, it was that thin, ironic smile.

‘By all means,’ she said. ‘This is your field of competence, not ours.’

From the corner of her eye she noted the discreet nod of approval from Walker.

‘Good,’ said Springer. ‘Which of you two detectives has seniority status?’

Given that Hanson looked an obvious ten years older than Kay the question was superfluous. But Kay guessed that Springer needed an answer to legitimise the decision he had already taken.

‘That would be me,’ Hanson said quickly.

‘OK, then you report to me — unless there are any objections from the Homicide Department?’

‘Fine by me,’ Kay said before Walker could answer.

I’m stalking the memories. The words were still on repeat in Bob’s head as he parked the Volvo in front of a driveway next to Town Taxidermy, jumped out and tried the door. It was locked. He checked the time. Three thirty. There was no note on the door. He knocked on the window, shaped his palms into a diving mask and peered through the glass into the darkened interior. The door to the workshop was open, but there didn’t seem to be any light on in there. Bob sat down on the step and pulled out his phone. He was scrolling through the list of previous calls looking for Mike’s number when the phone rang. A premonition that it was Mike, telepathically aware of what was happening, turned out to be mistaken and was instantly forgotten, the way we always forget premonitions that don’t work out. He sighed. He had deleted the number from his phone but not from his memory.

‘Yes, Alice?’

‘Hi. Got a moment?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Let me see... yes.’

‘I saw the video on YouTube.’

‘What d’you think? Regret dumping me now that I’m a celebrity?’

‘Don’t joke, Bob.’

‘OK.’

‘You probably think this isn’t the right time, but I feel I have to.’

‘Have to what?’

‘Urge you to seek professional help.’

‘As in... a psychologist?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought you might say that. For someone with a hammer every problem looks like a nail. Heard that one before?’

‘Bob.’

‘I’ve seen three psychologists, including you and that anger management specialist of yours. Look how much that helped.’

‘Bob, I see all the signs that you’re on your way into a psychosis. Are you taking your antidepressants?’

‘I don’t like them.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because of that ugly pink packet they come in. And they make me drowsy. Flat. Boring.’

‘And what are you like when you don’t take them, Bob?’

‘Moody. Angry. Aggressive. Suicidal. And a lot more fun.’

‘Take them, please.’

Bob tried to swallow the lump in his throat. That damn concern in her voice. It always hit him in a place where he had no defence against it.

‘Bob?’

‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me for my signature on the house?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not today.’

‘Maybe you know I still visit there, the house I mean?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘But maybe you don’t know the reason. I didn’t know myself. I thought I did it to spy on you and Stan the Man. But it’s because that’s where Frankie died. What I mean is... it was where she lived.’

Bob listened. Heard the tremor in her deep breathing.

‘Just wanted to say that so you know,’ he said and hung up.

I was headed toward Town Taxidermy when, turning the corner, I caught sight of him. He was sitting on the step outside the store, talking on the phone. I stopped at once and ducked back around the corner. Peered out. Doubted that he had seen me, he was concentrating so much on the call. Even if he had seen me, he wouldn’t have recognised me from such a distance. But my gaze was sharp, and he was easy to recognise in that special coat. A guy walking past the store gave him a second look, maybe someone else who’d seen that video on YouTube and thought he must be that cop in the orange coat, the guy who had made such a fool of himself on live TV.

He sat there talking into the phone, but that wasn’t just any old random place he happened to be, he was sitting there waiting for me, I told myself.

So what did I do then?

Phone booth.

I went back the way I had come. There were still a few of the old phone booths left in the smaller towns scattered around, but this one here had to be the last in all Minneapolis. It stood on the outer edge of the sidewalk and had scratched-up concertina doors that clapped together when you opened them, and a phone book for the sister cities. I fed in a few coins and dialled a cell number. The call I was making was to the taxidermist, Mike Lunde.

Bob continued to sit there studying her face on the screen after he had ended the connection. He missed the picture of her that used to come up when she called. How beautiful she was. And how beautiful he had been in the brightness of her aura. As he was on the point of calling Mike’s number the phone rang. And this time it really was Mike.

‘Hello, Mike, some telepathy going on here.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I was just about to ring you. Where are you?’

‘At home.’

‘Not well?’

‘Tired, that’s all. I finished the Labrador this morning, finally got the eyes right. So I closed up and drove home to get some sleep. What’s this about?’

‘I think I know where Tomás Gomez is hiding out.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s circling round the place where his family died. He can’t let go, it’s the same as with that cat he wants you to stuff. Just like...’ Bob stopped.

‘Yes?’ said Mike.

Bob swallowed. ‘It’s the same as I’ve been doing with Alice and Frankie. We stalk memories.’

‘I understand.’

‘You said Gomez and his family had lived in Phillips West. Do you have that address?’

‘He said something... I can’t remember, Bob, I just woke up. But anyway, remember, his family didn’t die in that house.’

‘No, but that’s the place where they were happy. Happiness is what we cling to, Mike.’

Bob heard a yawn from the other end.

‘I suppose you might be right. Let me make some coffee here and I’ll dig around in my memory.’

‘OK, I’ll call back in half an hour. Talk then. Wait, you were the one who called me. What is it?’

‘Just keeping my word.’

It took Bob a moment to understand. ‘You mean...? Has he...?’

‘Yes. Tomás has been in touch.’

‘How?’

‘Just now. He called my cell phone.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Just said his name.’

‘Just his name?’

‘Yeah. He hung up almost straight away.’

‘Where was he calling from?’

‘I don’t know, but it sounded like from a payphone. You know, the clink when the coins drop.’

‘Do you have the number he called from?’

‘Guess it’s here in the Calls log. Just a moment...’

As Mike read out the number Bob noted it down.

‘Can you repeat for me the conversation in as much detail as you can, Mike?’

‘Sure,’ said Mike. ‘But that won’t be necessary.’

‘Why not?’

‘I used that app of yours.’

‘You recorded the conversation?’

‘Yes,’ Mike said with a quiet sigh of resignation.

‘Great. Great, Mike! I’m on my way over to you now to hear the recording.’

‘OK.’

‘What’s your address?’

‘It’s quite a way, Bob. Know what, I’ll meet you halfway. There’s a McDonald’s on 2nd Avenue and East Lake Street. See you there in thirty minutes?’