Sue called from Florida. After three days of watching Janet Clury, she'd seen no change in the woman's pattern.
"Work. Mail. Gym. Store. Home. Then she watches crap on TV.
Meantime, it's hot down here and I'm getting bored. Just give me the word, Frank-I'm ready to move in on her and squeeze."
"I'm going to send down Aaron to do that," Janek said.
Silence. "Any particular reason?" She couldn't hide her disappointment.
"I think it'll be more threatening coming from a man. But you'll still have plenty of fun."
"How's that?"
"When Aaron leaves you'll be waiting outside, ready to follow Janet when she makes her move."
"And if she doesn't?"
"She will. Or I've got this whole thing wrong." "Okay," Sue said, breathing steadier. "I can get off on that. Maybe you're right, maybe Aaron will scare her more. Still, I hope one day you'll let me show you what I can do."
He wrote up his report on Dakin, added the tape he'd made of their final conversation, addressed a covering letter to the Manhattan D.A. recommending prosecution for obstruction of justice, then sealed the package and locked it in his filing cabinet. He wouldn't send it until he captured Clury. But he wanted it ready to go.
The following morning, cloudy and raw, Aaron picked him up at his apartment. They ran into heavy traffic on the FDR, but still had time to make the flight. In the car, Janek explained what he wanted Aaron to say to Janet Clury and exactly how he wanted him to say it:
"Start out casuaclass="underline" ' your husband been in touch with you lately?" That should make her jump. ' the hell're you talking about?
Howie's been dead nine years!" When she says that, look her straight in the eye, then give her a half-snicker. Start in on her pension. That'll be the first thing to go. Then we'll seize all her property to pay back nine years of pension fraud. When she asks, ''s fraudulent?" explain she obviously knew Howie hadn't been blown up. Tell her there'll be criminal charges. She'll be extradited to New York for trial. Could be a lot of jail time because New York jurors don't like folks who defraud their impoverished city. Whether she plays it cool or frantic, doesn't matter, so long as you leave her with the feeling she's in terrible trouble.
Remember, you're sending a message: It's not that we think Howie's alive, we know he is. Try not to spend more than fifteen minutes with her. When you leave, you want her panicked. When you get to the door, hesitate, then say something like: ' you hear from Howie, tell him Janek might be willing to deal." Don't stick around, don't explain. Leave, drive straight to the airport, fly back here tonight."
"What about Sue?" Aaron asked. "Shouldn't I stay with her and help?"
"Sue will handle her end fine."
At La Guardia, Aaron patted the fender of his Chevrolet, then handed Janek the keys. "Take good care of her, Frank." "Right," Janek promised.
"I'll even fill up the tank."
He drove the car out to Newark to pick up Gelsey and bring her back to the city to be booked. He had promised her that it would be quick, that Netti had everything arranged. She'd be photographed, fingerprinted, arraigned and immediately bailed out. He'd have her back home right after lunch.
On their way in, he could see she was nervous. To distract her he asked questions about painting. What did she like best about it?
Creating the images? Moving around the paint? Working with her hands? Or was it the result, taking pride in what she'd achieved, reliving the feelings she'd released?
"It's all of that," she said, "and something more. I call it soothing the hurt. See, I think that's what artists do. We're injured people.
We paint, sculpt, whatever-to try and heal our wounds. At least a little bit."
A few moments later, the Manhattan skyline came into view. The towers loomed, silver forms against a dark, cloudy sky. The clouds looked almost purple, Janek thought-purple like a bruise.
He stood beside her during the booking procedure. Rain poured down outside. Stiegel, as expected, didn't show, so Janek listed himself as the arresting officer. There were papers to be signed for the bondsman.
Netti worked hard to move things along. But there was still a sleaziness about the process that he wished Gelsey could have been spared.
Beaten-up furniture, scuffed floors, disinterested guards and cops, people yelling, quarreling, whimpering, faces creased with helplessness and fear. The air was stale, tainted with the mingled aromas of whiskey breath, body odor, exhaled cigarette smoke. Once, when the thunder clapped, Gelsey grabbed for his hand. He held hers tight, finally felt her relax. Then, when they took her away, she looked back at him, panicked, with the eyes of a frightened doe.
As he stood in the rear of the courtroom waiting for her to come out, he was again struck by the tawdriness of the system-the alienated dialogue between judges and lawyers; dehumanizing deal-making; battered, abused public facilities he'd always taken for granted. Where, he wondered, amid all this filth and taint, was the vaunted Majesty of the Law? As Netti had predicted, the entire procedure took two hours, but Gelsey was shaking when she emerged. She had. to Janek that although she had often been frightened in men's hotel rooms and apartments, she had managed to keep her cool because she knew she was in control. At Central Booking she'd had no control over anything. She'd been but one in an endless stream of beasts prodded and Coaxed through the Stock yard-, of life.
"It's not that I'm so fancy," she said when they were outside the courthouse. The rain had stopped but the steps still were slick. "I've eaten plenty of shit in my. life, but in there I felt helpless." She paused. "Jail's like that, isn't it?"
"No one wants you to go to jail, Gelsey," Netti said. They were walking on either side of her, descending the broad granite steps to the street.
"Yeah, sure. No one except Carlson. Look, I know I did bad stuff."
She was fighting back her tears. "I deserve to be punished. I know that, too."
She looked at Janek, again grasped hold of his hand. "I just don't know if I can take it."
Janek took her to lunch at a fish joint on South Street, a rowdy place filled with workmen talking loudly over plates of mussels and clams. The moment they sat down, Gelsey began to castigate herself, saying how it was good for her to have gone through booking and arraignment, how the experience had helped her to see what she really was: a doper-girl, a felon, a thief.
Janek didn't quarrel with her, just listened. He thought: She needs to bruiz herself down, needs to let it out. But the whole time his heart was crushed with grief.
When their food came, Gelsey brightened. "Know what I'm going to do when this is over'?"
"What?"
"Destroy the maze. Sell the building. Look for a loft here in the city."
"Sounds good. But why not sell the building with the maze intact?"
She shook her head. "Nobody'll want it. Nobody'll understand it. And for me, now it's finished. You helped me solve the mystery of it, Janek. I look at it now and all I see is a lot of stupid glass."
"So, it's no longer art. That's what you're saying. One day it's a great maze work, the next it's a pile of shit."
She shook her head. When she spoke it was with the same bitter contempt she'd just applied to herself. "Oh, sure, it's art. It just doesn't feel like art anymore. To me now it feels like terror and pain. So, why not tear it down?"
He didn't challenge her. He understood why she would want to destroy it, considering the evil ways her father had used it against her. But he hoped she'd change her mind. The maze was magnificent, and once broken up it could never be rebuilt. More important, he felt she would do nothing for herself by trying to punish the scene of her suffering.
Yes, the maze had terrorized her and held her in its thrall, but now, having understood her pain and having rendered harmless its source, she could leave it to dazzle and entertain others. He resolved to broach this to her when she was in a less bitter state.