He did that, all right, standing there over the body and chewing me out royally, his eyes as tired and bloodshot as my own. Outside the windows the sky had turned to a slate gray, the rain had stopped, but poised and waiting until it could be at its most miserable best when it let loose again.
The body of Larry Beers had been carted off in a rubber bag, the room photographed, the basics taken care of, now two detectives were standing outside the door getting a muffled earful as Pat lit into me.
All I could say was, "Listen, I told you I had a witness."
"Fine. It better be a good one."
"It is."
"You better have a damn good excuse for the time lapse in reporting this mess too."
"Once more for the record, Pat, my witness got hurt in the shuffle. I took her to a doctor who will verify it."
"He had a phone."
"So I was in a state of shock."
"Balls. You know the kind of lawyer Ballinger has to protect his men? You think that other guy's going to admit laying for you? Like hell .. . they'll say you set a trap and touched it off youself deliberately in front of a witness. Nice, eh? You were even supposed to get the other one, but he got away. So maybe your bullets aren't in him. The other guy was firing in self-defense."
"Look at the office."
"You could have done that yourself. You told me you didn't see them in the act of wrecking it. Your witness couldn't help there, either."
"Well, you know better."
"Sure, I do, only I'm just a cop. I can investigate and arrest. I don't handle the prosecution. Your ass is in deep trouble this time. Don't think the D.A.'s office is going to buy your story on sight. What you think happened won't cut any grass with that bunch. Even the shooting at Lippy's won't help any. That could have been staged too. You try using the witness you got there and all you'll get is a cold laugh and a kiss-off. Even your own lawyer wouldn't touch them."
"Okay, what do you want from me?" I asked him.
"Who's your witness, damn it!"
I grinned and shrugged my shoulders. "You know, you forgot to advise me of my rights, Captain. Under that Supreme Court decision, this case could be kicked right off the docket as of now."
Pat let those red eyes bore into me for ten seconds, his teeth clamped tight. Then suddenly the taut muscles in his jaw loosened, he grinned back and shook his head in amazement.
"I don't know why I'm bothering with you, Mike. I'm acting like this is the first homicide I ever stumbled over. After all the nitheaded times you and I ... oh, shit." He swabbed at his eyes with his hands and took a deep breath. "The whole damn country's in line for extermination and I'm letting you bug me." He dropped his hands, his face serious. "Anyway, by tomorrow you wouldn't even make the back page."
I didn't say anything. His face had a peculiar, blank look.
Finally, Pat dropped his voice and said, "They found a canister at the bottom of the Ashokan Reservoir. It was a bacteriological device timed to open six days from now."
I couldn't figure it. I said, "Then why the sweat if you got it nailed down?"
Pat brushed some torn remnants off the arm of the chair and lowered himself down to it. "The guy found dead in the subway was the same one those honeymooners spotted, all right. They searched the area where they saw him and came up with the cannister." His eyes left the window and wandered over to mine. "It must have been the last one he planted. It was marked #20-ashokan. Someplace scattered around are nineteen others like it, all due to release in six days."
"And the papers got this?"
"One of the reservists in the group that handled the stuff was a reporter fresh out of journalism school. He figured he had a scoop and phoned it in. He didn't know about the other nineteen they didn't find."
"There's still time to squelch the story."
"Oh, they're on that, don't worry. Everybody connected with that guy's paper is in protective custody, but they're screaming like hell and they're not going to be held long. There's a chance they might have spouted off to their friends or relatives, and if they did, it's panic tune. People aren't going to hold in a secret like that."
"Who's handling it ... locals?"
"Washington. That's how big it is." Pat reached for his hat and stood up. "So whatever you do doesn't really matter, Mike. You're only an interesting diversion that keeps me from thinking about other things. Six days from now we can all pick out a nice place to sit and watch each other kick off."
"Brother, are you full of piss and vinegar tonight."
"I wish you'd worry a little. It would make me feel better."
"Crap," I said sullenly. There was no mistaking Pat's attitude. He was deadly serious. I had never seen him like that before. Maybe it was better to be like the rest of the world, not knowing about things. But what would they be like when they found out?
"Six days. When it happens you can bet there's going to be some kind of retaliation, or expecting it, the other side fires first. A nuclear holocaust could destroy this country and possibly the bacteria too. If I were on the other side I'd consider the same thing." Pat let a laugh grunt through his teeth. "Now even the Soviet bunch is thinking along those lines. I heard they all tried to get out of the country when we found the thing, but the Feds put the squeeze on them. In a way they're hostages for six days and they'd better run down a lead before then or they've had it too."
"Sounds crazy," I said.
"Doesn't it?" Pat waved me to the door. "So let's have a coffee like it all never happened and then we'll check into the ballistics report on those slugs that tore up your buddy Beers."
I lay stretched out on the bed, not quite awakened from the druglike sleep I had been in. The window was a patch of damp gray letting the steamy smells of the city drift into the room through the open half. The clock said ten after two, and I pulled the phone down beside me and dialed the office number. Nothing. Velda's apartment didn't answer either.
Where the hell was she? Until now Velda had always called in at regular intervals, or if necessity warranted it, longer ones, but she always called. Now there were only two answers left. Either she was on a prolonged stakeout or Woody Ballinger had found her. I tried another half-dozen calls to key people I had contacted, but none of them had seen Woody or any of his boys. All his office would say was he had left town, but Chipper Hodges had gone into his apartment through a window on a fire
escape and said his bags were in a closet and nothing seemed to be missing.
Pat had slept in his office all night and his voice was still a hoarse growl with no expression in it at all. "Sorry, Mike," he said, "still negative. Nobody's seen Ballinger around at all."
"Damn it, Pat ..."
"We'd like to see him, though. Ballistics came up with another item besides those slugs in Beers coming from that same gun that shot at you in Lippy's apartment. That same gun was used to kill the cop who stepped into the cross fire when he was raiding that policy place uptown. Supposedly one of Woody's places."
"And now you got men on it."
"Uh-huh. As many as we can spare. Don't worry, we'll find Ballinger."
"He might have Velda. There isn't much time."
"I know," he told me softly, "not for any of us," then hung up.
Back to that again, I thought. Six days ... no, five days left. In a way there was almost a comic angle to the situation. The ones who didn't know what was impending couldn't care, and those who knew about it didn't. A real wild world, this. Trouble was coming in from so many sources that another one, no matter how big, was no more than an itch to be scratched. Maybe the world wouldn't give a damn either if it did know. Nobody seems to think that big. Sufficient unto the day are the evils thereof. How long since Hiroshima and Nagasaki? You sit on a time bomb so long you get to ignore it. The object of destruction gets to be a familiar thing and one more wouldn't matter anyway. Defusing the problem was somebody else's job and somehow in some way it would be taken care of. That's what we have a government for, isn't it? So why worry, have another beer and watch the ball game. The Mets are ahead.