I knew I couldn't hope to find Esobus in the time I had left-not after both Daniel and I had been beating the bushes without success for three days. What I needed was more time, and there was one person who just might be able to give it to me.
Esteban Morales was absolutely the last button I had to push. It was a decision I'd unconsciously made the moment I'd walked out of the hospital. Either Esteban could heal, or he couldn't. It made absolutely no difference what I believed.
I needed Garth at the station house-Garth and Garth alone. There was no time to go looking for him. Wallowing through the traffic, I was surprised to find I had-at least temporarily-renewed a lapsed membership of my own; for almost twenty minutes my lips had been moving in a silent prayer that Garth would be there.
I made it-by a few seconds. As I pulled up to the curb, Garth was just coming down the steps with Johnny Barnard, his partner. I nodded to Barnard and pulled Garth to one side.
"Jesus," Garth said, real concern in his voice. "You look like hell. What did you do to your finger?"
"Harley Davidson's dead. His body's in that apartment on Farrell Street."
"You always bring such interesting news," Garth said wryly. "Who'd have thought that the Messenger of Death was a dwarf?"
"That's not funny," I snapped.
"You're right," he said after a thoughtful pause. "I'm sorry. That's what comes from hanging around with cops all day."
"I need an hour or two of your time. Now."
He ran a hand through his thinning, wheat-colored hair, then glanced toward his partner, who was waiting beside an unmarked squad car. "I work for this city, Mongo. Sorry, but I'm on a call. Grave robbers. We've got three teenagers with an apartment full of skulls they stole from a cemetery over in Queens. That's not funny either."
"Two hours, Garth," I said, struggling to keep my voice even. "I need you. If you feel you owe me, I'm cashing it all in now. If I owe you-well, I'll owe you some more. Two lives are at stake."
We looked into each other's eyes for a few moments; then, without another word, Garth went back down the steps and spoke a few words to Johnny Barnard. Barnard shrugged, got into the car and drove off. Garth came back up the steps slowly.
"What's the matter with you, Mongo?" he asked quietly, peering at me through narrowed lids. "You look and talk like a stranger. If I weren't afraid you'd yell at me, I'd say you look like you'd seen a ghost."
"I'm goosing one. I want to spring Esteban on bail, and I need your help."
"What? You think I'm going to smuggle Morales a file inside a cake?" He slowly shook his head. "Go home and go to bed, brother; you've got to be running a fever. We've had this conversation before. The man's charged with premeditated murder. If that weren't enough, he's considered a transient. Forget it."
"Two hours, Garth. That's all I want. I'm going to try something; if I can't pull it off in that time, it'll be too late anyway. Okay?"
"First tell me what you plan to do."
"What kind of lawyer does Esteban have?"
"I told you: Legal Aid."
"He'll need better."
"No, he won't. The guy's name is Herman Spiegel. I know him; he's young, enthusiastic, and he's damn good. You won't find better."
"Call Spiegel and get him over to the Criminal Courts building. The two of you have to round up a judge to hold an emergency bail hearing." I glanced at my watch. "It's one thirty now; let's make it for three thirty. I'll need you as a witness to tell what you saw and heard yesterday in Esteban's cell. Was there an autopsy performed on Samuels?"
Garth nodded curtly. "You were right; he had cancer."
"Esteban was right. He knew about Samuels' cancer, and he knows about my condition. You can testify to that."
"You'd better come up with more than that, Mongo. A judge-if I can find one to listen to you-will laugh you right out of the hearing room. If you don't mind, I'd just as soon my colleagues didn't get a chance to spread the rumor that you and I are idiots."
"I know I'll need more; if I can't come up with it, the whole thing's off."
"What kind of evidence do you think you're going to find?"
"I don't want to say yet."
"Aw, c'mon, Mongo," Garth replied wearily. "I said Spiegel was good, but F. Lee Bailey couldn't get a judge to stand by for two hours with the kind of tap dance you're showing me."
"I've got somebody better than F. Lee Bailey; I've got Senator Bill Younger."
That impressed him. "The Senator Bill Younger, I presume. What does he have to do with Esteban?"
"You'll find out at the hearing; or sooner, if he wants to tell you. He'll be here ten minutes after I make a call. He'll help you and Spiegel find a sympathetic judge. What about it? Are you with me?"
Garth grinned crookedly. "Aren't I always? Hell, I'm your biggest fan."
"Thanks, brother." Baby time: the first props for my magic act were in place, and the pressure that had been building up inside me emerged as tears. I quickly wiped my eyes, blew my nose. "Is Esteban still inside?"
"Yeah." Garth slapped me lightly on the back and glanced at his watch. "He's being transferred to Rikers Island at four."
"I want to talk to him."
We went into the station house, and Garth took me back to Esteban's cell. As before, the old man was squatting on the cot, his back braced against the wall. He looked up and smiled broadly as I entered. His face was still serene and peaceful; perhaps there was a bit more sadness in his large brown eyes.
"Hello, Mongo," Esteban said, getting up from the cot and placing a gnarled, mahogany-brown hand on my shoulder. "It's good to see you again."
"It's good to see you, Esteban. I don't have much time, so I'll get right to the point. Senator Younger is in town with Linda. She needs you badly. And there's a little girl who also needs you to give her the strength to stay alive a few days longer."
Esteban lifted his hands from his sides, then let them drop loosely in an elegant gesture of helplessness. "I will do anything I can, Mongo. But I am here-"
"Well, I'm going to try and get you out on bail. But I have to ask you some questions. You may not want to answer them, but you're going to have to if you want your freedom. First, is Dr. Jordon a negative healer?"
Esteban looked puzzled. "I do not know what you mean, Mongo."
"You seem to have some kind of positive effect on people; being around you helps them to get better. You once said Dr. Jordon shouldn't have become a doctor. What did you mean?" When he hesitated, I stepped close to him and gripped his arm. "Esteban, two people are going to die in a very short time unless you can give me some answers."
"Dr. Jordon had a had effect on patients," Esteban said quietly. "I saw it in his patients that I treated. It was harder for them to get better when he treated them."
"How did Samuels and Jordon get along?"
"They were. . not friendly," he said with obvious reluctance. "They tried not to show it in front of me, but I sensed tension when they were together."
"Thanks, Esteban," I said on my way out of the cell. "I hope I'll be seeing you again in a couple of hours."
I hurried to my apartment, where I had a miniature cassette recorder. I taped the machine to my body, then called Janet Monroe. She wasn't home, but I finally reached her at her university office.