So what was the explanation?
Simple. The person who killed Martino was not the same person who attacked Dr. Riker.
Well, if Winston O'Connor did not kill Martino, who did?
The Gay Slasher.
Then why didn't the Slasher stab him like the others?
Hmmm. Good question.
Like that one, Max? I got a million more for you. Is the person who hired the Gay Slasher targeting the cured patients like Trian, Whitherson, and Martino? Or is he (or she let's not be sexist) after the secret patients like Jenkins and Michael? Or both? And what about the order of the deaths of the cured patients the three early patients dead, the three later patients alive? Is there any significance in that or is it just a faulty wire in the brain that keeps bringing you back to that seemingly irrelevant point?
And the bigger question, which Max doodled on the top of his desk repeatedly:
Who benefits from the murders?
Good question. Crucial.
The phone on his desk rang. Max dropped the doughnuts onto the floor.
He reached for the receiver without bothering to pick them up.
"Bernstein here."
"Good," Sergeant Willie Monticelli said, "you're still there.
You ain't gonna believe this." The tone of Willie's voice told Max that this was no routine call.
"Where are you?"
"Downstairs. I got a police station in Bangkok on the phone.
A guy named Colonel something. I can't pronounce it."
Bangkok! Max sat down.
"What does he want?"
"I still have him on the line, Twitch. I want you to hear this for yourself."
"What is it?"
"I'd rather let him tell you himself."
"Patch him through."
"Just hold on. Damn, which button do I push?"
"The yellow one."
"Oh, right. Here goes."
Click. Static. Then: "Hello."
"Hello, Colonel," Max said, speaking slowly.
"My name is Lieutenant Max Bernstein. I am with the New York Police Department. With whom am I speaking?"
"Colonel Thaakavechikan. Bangkok Special Forces."
"Colonel Thaka-"
"Colonel will suffice, Lieutenant. I went to school in California so I know that Thai names are difficult for Americans."
"Thank you, Colonel. You have some information for us?"
"I believe so. I understand that you are in charge of the Gay Slasher homicides and the disappearance of Michael Silverman."
"Yes."
"Well, something has come to our attention which might be of interest to you. Have you ever heard of George Camron?"
"No."
"He is a professional hit man who lives in Bangkok, though he travels frequently. He is quite good and very deadly. We estimate that he has killed over two hundred people in the past decade."
"Jesus."
"When Camron is in Bangkok, he works out of a bar called the Eager Beaver on Patpong Street. He has been seen there quite frequently in recent days."
"Just recent days?"
"Yes. According to our sources, George Camron arrived in Bangkok within the week."
"Interesting," Max remarked.
"It gets more interesting, Lieutenant Bernstein."
"How so?"
"I have an American named Frank Reed sitting beside me.
Mr. Reed is a patron of the Eager Beaver Bar."
"Oh?"
"Let me preface this by mentioning that Mr. Reed admits to being drunk at the time he was in the bar."
"Go on."
"It seems that Mr. Reed was engaging in sexual activities with a prostitute in the upstairs section of the Eager Beaver. He accidentally opened the wrong door and saw a man chained at the ankle." "I see," Max said. His fingers plucked at his hair and mustache.
"Isn't that fairly normal? Whips and chains at a whorehouse?"
"Oh, yes, quite normal," the colonel agreed.
"Mr. Reed, however, swears that the man he saw was Michael Silverman."
The words slammed into Max's solar plexus.
"What?"
"He claims Michael Silverman is being held captive at the Eager Beaver Bar."
"Have you checked out his story?"
"That might not be as easy as you might think," the colonel explained.
"George Camron is more than a dangerous hit man, Lieutenant Bernstein he is very clever and careful. If Michael Silverman is being held in the Eager Beaver and it would not be the first time Camron has kept someone there it will be nearly impossible to get him out. Camron probably has the place wired with explosives and if he gets even slightly suspicious, he will blow the place up."
"Can't you take him out by surprise?"
"It is too risky, Lieutenant Bernstein. If we failed to kill Camron immediately or if he is working with an accomplice, I assure you that Mr. Silverman's life would be forfeited. Because Mr. Silverman is something of an international celebrity, our government would frown upon such actions. That is why I am calling you. I am not saying that the place is definitely wired.
I am just giving you Camron's past history."
"I appreciate it. Willie, are you listening in?"
"Yeah, Twitch, I'm here."
"Get me booked on the next plane to Bangkok."
"Already did it. I have you booked on Japan Airlines flight 006 which leaves Kennedy in about two hours. You connect in Tokyo with JAL flight 491 that'll bring you into Bangkok in the evening. Problem is, I don't think the department will pay for it."
"I'll worry about that when I get back. Colonel, do you mind my coming over?"
"Not at all, Lieutenant, as long as you understand that we are in charge of the situation."
"Understood."
"Then we have no problem. In the meantime we will do our best to monitor the Eager Beaver as inconspicuously as possible."
Max rifled through his drawers until he found his passport underneath a jar of mayonnaise. He wiped it clean with an old napkin.
"Then I'm on my way."
They were all seated in the study.
John Lowell sat behind his large oak desk with Senator Jenkins on his right and a few feet behind him. Facing them on the other side of the desk were Sara and Cassandra. For a moment they all just studied one another. Then Sara broke the silence:
"Is Michael still alive?"
John glanced at the senator and then back toward his daughter.
"We don't know, honey."
"But you know something about his kidnapping?"
"We may know something about it," Senator Jenkins corrected.
"We can't say for sure."
Sara shook her head.
"Dad, what's going on?"
"I'm not sure where to begin actually." Dr. John Lowell rose and moved toward a bookshelf filled with large medical volumes.
His eyes passed over the titles, but they read nothing.
"You know how I feel about the Cancer Center, don't you?"
"Of course we do," Sara replied, "but what does that have to do with "
"Everything, Sara," John said simply. He pulled out a book, glanced at the binding, and put it back in the shelf.
"You see, focus can be a dangerous thing. Your view of the world narrows.
You grow obsessed. Blinded. You see everything in terms of your obsession and nothing else. You cannot accept defeat. You cannot understand why everyone else does not share your passion. Don't get me wrong. Concentration and focus are good and necessary.
But when they slide unchecked, they can distort your perspective.
In the ultimate pursuit of knowledge, you can easily become ignorant."