"That was never an official designation," she huffed. "I don't know how that got about, but it's not accurate."
"Okay. But they do house nutcases there, correct?"
"It's a mental research institute. There's never been a lick of trouble since its conversion, not a single incident. The barbed wire is an eyesore, yes, but they mind their business, pay their taxes, and some of the staff have joined the community and become active in local affairs."
"Like Doctor Aaron Levy?"
Her eyebrows lifted. "If you know him, why do you need me for this information. He certainly knows more than I do."
"I know o/him. We'll be having a meeting in the near future, and I wanted to have some background on the place before then."
"Yes, well, he's a nice man, devoted husband and father, and gives generously to local causes, especially the library."
"But as a doctor at the institute, that makes him an employee of the federal government. What branch? Department of Entropy?"
Cilia gave him a tolerant smile. "No one knows. Lord knows I've tried to find out—"
"Why would you want to know?"
"Because someone wants to keep it secret." She smiled. "Why else?"
"Why else indeed?" Jack liked this old biddy. "So no one knows who's running the show? Don't people find that suspicious?"
"Some of us do. I'm one of them. I've been watching and listening and snooping for years, and you know what I think?" She leaned across the table and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Department of Defense."
"But what would the Depart—?"
She held up a finger. "You didn't hear it here. And I'll say no more. But maybe when you meet with Doctor Levy you can wheedle it out of him."
He'd try.
"Odd that that particular branch of the government in question would be funding a mental institution, don't you think?"
She finished her second drink and held up the glass. She weighed all of a hundred pounds, if that, and had downed two Manhattans before Jack had finished his first beer, yet her eyes and speech were as clear as when they'd first sat down.
"Odd and bothersome. If you find out why, let me know. I have an insatiable curiosity."
And one hell of an efficient liver, he thought as he watched Faas approach with a fresh drink.
5
Jack swung by 903 Argent Drive to get a look at the Levy house. The property out here appeared to be zoned for at least an acre and it looked like all the lots had been wooded to start with. A lot of the residents had left a fair number of trees as buffers between the houses, which tended to be of the brick-fronted, high-foyered McMansion design. The house at 903 sported Taraesque columns.
Probably considered a premiere location, what with some sort of forest preserve across the street. That made for enviable privacy. The owners could stand on their front porches and know that they'd never see another house looking back at them.
The Levy place sported a two-car garage which they probably used. That meant no telltale auto in the driveway to signal when the doc was home.
Jack drove past a couple of times, looking for a spot where he could park and watch for Levy's arrival. No such place in daylight—at least none where he wouldn't attract attention, and maybe even earn a call to the police. In the dark, with all these trees, a different story. He'd have to try something else.
He cruised the area looking for a watch post. His problem was he didn't know what kind of car Levy would be driving, so he needed a spot where he could get a look at the drivers as they passed.
Argent Drive had only one access point from the direction of the Creighton Institute. Jack found an empty-looking house—overgrown yard, no curtains on the windows—with a FOR SALE sign out front. He backed into its driveway, left his car running, and waited. The good news was that daylight saving time was in effect and the sun wouldn't set until around seven. He wished the overcast would clear. He'd need all the light he could get to recognize Levy as he passed.
And so he waited and watched, studying the Levy photo between cars. Around four-thirty traffic picked up. His eyes burned and a dull headache started in his temples as he strained to catch the faces in all the westbound vehicles.
The guy was a doctor with a big house. He wouldn't he driving a Taurus or a pickup. Or would he? Jack knew next to nothing about the man.
A little after five Jack saw a Infiniti M35 go by, driven by a guy wrho looked a lot like Levy, but he couldn't be sure. Decision time: follow or not follow? He chose follow.
Turned out to be the right decision. Jack stayed a quarter mile behind and eventually saw the Infiniti turn into Levy's driveway. The garage door began to rise as the car eased toward it.
Jack kept going. He'd been debating his next step after locating Levy—knock on his door right away, or wait till he'd relaxed and had a drink? Jack chose now.
He made a U-turn and headed back. He was almost to the house when he saw the Infiniti pull out of the driveway and race off.
Levy wasn't driving. A bearded man who looked an awful lot like the guy in Gerhard's surveillance photos had the wheel.
Bethlehem?
What the hell—?
6
When Jack saw the guy steer the Infiniti onto the southbound lanes of the Thruway, he knew following had been the right decision. Levy was somewhere in that car. Had to be.
But just to be sure, Jack called the house. A woman answered.
Jack said, "Hi, this is Doctor Bates. Is Aaron there?"
"Doctor Bates?"
"'Yes, I'm new at the institute and I need to verify something with him before I go home."
"Well… he's not here right now. He pulled into the garage a few moments ago but then he pulled right out again. He must have forgotten something at work. Have him call me if you see him.'*
"Will do. Thanks."
Well, that confirmed that. Levy was in the car. Bethlehem—he was going to assume that's who ho was—hadn't had enough time to overcome him and truss him up, so he must have bopped him and tossed him into the trunk.
What the hell was the connection here? And what would make Bethlehem so desperate that he'd abduct the man in his own garage?
A vision of Levy bungeed facedown in a tub flashed through Jack's head. Even though he hated to resort to cops, the best thing to do here was call the staties and report a stolen car on the Thruway. He'd take care of this himself if he'd been hired by Levy, but he hadn't. So make the highway smokies stop hassling honest, hardworking dudes who just happened to be going too fast, and stop a real bad guy.
Let them pull Bethlehem over and find the good Dr. Levy in the trunk. Not only would the doc be safe, but Bethlehem would end up in the slammer for assault and battery, kidnapping, and whatever other charges the prosecutors could come up with. All of which would solve Christy Pickering's problem as well.
Perfectomundo.
As Jack was reaching for the officialdom phone he saw the Infiniti veer into the Ardsley rest stop. Curious, he followed.
The sun was almost down, casting the long shadow of the barnlike stone-and-stucco food court across the parking area. He saw Bethlehem back the Infiniti into a spot in a far corner that he had all to himself. Jack parked in a more crowded area, then hunkered down to watch.
The driver—definitely Bethlehem, wearing a work shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots—jumped out, trotted over to an old maroon Buick Riviera which he maneuvered around until it was parked next to the Infiniti.
So… this wasn't some spur-of-the-moment deal. He'd planned this out in advance. Jack could see what was coming.
Bethlehem opened the Buick trunk and pulled something from his pocket. Sunlight flashed off the blade that unfolded. Then he opened the Infiniti's trunk. Nothing happened for a moment, and then a man was yanked from one trunk and shoved into the other. It happened so fast that if Jack hadn't been watching for it, he would have missed it.