CHAPTER 33
A shrill sound jolted me awake. It repeated, and I pulled the air phone from its cradle. I checked my watch. Two hours had passed.
“What have you got for me?” I asked.
“We’re guessing Semtex,” Lou said.
Semtex is the explosive of choice for international terrorist groups. It’s cheap, odorless, readily available, has an indefinite shelf life, and slides through airport security scanners like a pair of silk panties.
Lou said, “You were right; the hotel blast originated in the area of your bedroom.”
“How’d they verify that?”
“Lack of a crater. Ground floor detonation would have left one a meter deep. A charge placed above the second floor would have taken out the roof.”
“What are the Feds working on?”
“Hotel cameras, cross-referencing faces with suspected terrorists and sympathizer lists, checking for connections by address, criminal records, religious and political affiliations. Darwin said to give them Jenine, so they’re working up a profile on her as well.”
I looked across the aisle at Quinn. He appeared to be asleep again, in the exact same position as before. From what I could see he hadn’t moved a muscle since finishing his second drink. I envy any monster that can crash like that.
“I wish he hadn’t given them Jenine,” I said. “They’re going to want to talk to me about it, and we’re liable to cross wires in the field. Better to solve the case for them and let them take the credit afterward.”
“The Feebs have you on the lobby camera checking in. They’ve got your name and credit card on the registration. They’ve got Jenine twice on the lobby cameras. They know about your clearance to fly out of Edwards. Darwin said if we didn’t give them Jenine, the Feds would detain you and Quinn as material witnesses when you land.”
That made sense. Still, I hated having everyone in law enforcement know about my dalliance with a twenty-year-old escort. Every Feeb I deal with from now on will find a way to work that into the conversation.
John Locke
Lethal People: A Donovan Creed Crime Novel
CHAPTER 34
By surviving Joe DeMeo’s attack, I’d put my family in danger, so I asked Callie to keep an eye on Janet and Kimberly until further notice. I’d also tipped my hand by demanding money for Addie, so I put Quinn in the burn center to protect her.
“Victor’s story is a sad one,” Lou said.
It was Sunday afternoon. My shoulder was freshly bandaged, and I’d gotten caught up on my sleep. Lou had gathered a ton of information for me on Victor, but all I wanted to know was the source of his funds and his connection to Monica Childers.
“They’re both related,” Lou said.
“Enlighten me with the short version.”
“Victor was born with serious respiratory problems. About twenty years ago, he was in the hospital for a minor surgery when a nurse gave him an accidental overdose that put him into cardiac arrest. Someone wheeled him into an elevator on the way to emergency surgery and somehow managed to leave him there. Up and down he went from floor to floor in the elevator for more than thirty minutes before someone realized what had happened. They rushed him to the OR, but the surgeon botched the procedure and Victor suffered a stroke. Subsequent attempts to save his life rendered him a quadriplegic.
“Then the hospital made a feeble attempt to cover up the incident. Victor’s attorneys sued both the hospital and the drug company and managed to win the largest settlement ever paid to an individual in the state of Florida. After being released from the hospital, Victor’s parents placed the proceeds from the lawsuit into Berkshire Hathaway stock. By the time he was of legal age, he was worth more than a hundred million dollars. By then, his parents were dead, and he surrounded himself with the best financial people money could buy. He became a venture capitalist, funded several internet startups that hit the big time.”
“How big?”
“We’re talking close to a billion dollars at this point. Beyond his incredibly sophisticated computer system, state-of-the-art apartment, and cutting-edge electronics that have allowed him to function at the highest possible level, he had nothing else upon which to spend his wealth.”
“The doctor that severed his spinal cord,” I said.
“Baxter Childers,” Lou said.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have motive,” I said.
CHAPTER 35
Tourists are often surprised to learn the true size of Little Italy. The entire area runs only three or four blocks along Mulberry Street, between Canal and Houston.
One of the cross streets is Hester, where Cafe Napoli has been in business more than thirty years. It’s open eighteen hours a day, beginning at 9:00 am. Victor had called in a favor and got us a table an hour before the breakfast crowd.
“Thank… you for… com… ing,” Victor said. He did have the dreadlocks Sal Bonadello told me about, and they grew long and filthy and hung down the sides and back of his body like thick ropes of dust. Were he able to stand erect, at least two of the strands would drag the floor. I wondered if they ever got caught in the spokes of his wheelchair.
Speaking of which, his wheelchair was incredibly high tech. I had no idea what bells and whistles it contained, but it seemed to have enough electronics on board to launch the space shuttle. It looked like something you’d find in the distant future. The back was enclosed and swept in an arc over his head, where it attached to a sort of roll bar that was at least an inch thick.
Victor moved his index finger on a touch pad, and several small computer screens silently retracted from the roll bar and positioned themselves at various angles about a foot in front of his head. Though I couldn’t view any of the screens from my position, one of them must have displayed a digital clock, because Victor glanced up at it and said, “Time… is limi… ted so… we should… get… star… ted.”
He wore a long-sleeved navy warm-up suit with three vertical white stripes on one side of the jacket. It was very expensive looking, probably hand-tailored, which made me realize how hard it must be for little people of limited means to find clothing. It’s one of those things you wouldn’t think about until you find yourself in this type of situation.
We were in the main dining area, where the walls were brick and covered with pictures and other memorabilia from Italy. Our table was larger than the others, but they all had white, floorlength tablecloths and small vases with colorful fake flower arrangements.
Hugo had been standing when I arrived, and he continued to stand. I wondered about that until I realized he didn’t have a choice. The table and chairs were too tall to properly accommodate him. So he stood and glared at me.
I nodded at him. “Hugo,” I said.
I saw a flash of dark yellow and realized Hugo had bared his teeth at me. If intense staring could cause a person to explode, I was doomed.
A young man approached us and said, “The kitchen’s not open yet, but I can bring you a pot of coffee and a bagel or pastry if you wish.”
“No liver?” Hugo snarled, without taking his eyes off me. I suddenly realized what made his stare so intimidating: he never blinked. In fact, he hadn’t blinked once since I’d arrived.
The server seemed confused. “I’m not a waiter. I’m just a busboy, so I don’t know the menu very well. I can probably scrounge up some lox or cream cheese.”
No one said anything, so I said, “I think we’ll just talk, but thanks for the offer.” Then I thought of something and added, “Could you remove the flowers?” I didn’t think Victor would put a bug in the flower arrangement, but why take a chance?