"I was almost too late," Veil said tightly. "Mongo, I got the first beep, at ten after. And then I got another beep twenty minutes later. It was when I didn't get a third one that I ran to the building, and found the front door open. I figured the elevator might be just a bit too public, so I started up the stairs. I was about halfway up when I heard all this shouting and commotion above me, so I decided I'd better put a move on."
"The son-of-a-bitch had my apartment bugged," I said with disgust. "Slycke knew all about our security arrangements; he was the one sending you the signals, while he was giving me that hot shot and otherwise taking care of business upstairs. What happened serves me right for being so stupid. When I get out of here, I'm going to order myself a custom-made dunce cap."
"Better order two," Veil said. "I should have considered the possibility of your apartment being bugged."
"No dunce cap for you. But it's a damn good thing you got there when you did; about two seconds later, and you'd have had to mop me up off the ground floor."
Veil smiled thinly, shook his head. "You and your buddy were putting on quite a show, Mongo. I could see you while I was running up. There you were sliding down the railing, falling off, and sliding down another one. . and all the while this maniac with a scalpel is clomping down the stairs, trying to catch you. It was a sight to see."
"I'm really happy Mama Baker and I kept you amused, Veil. Sprinting up those stairs must have been tiresome."
Veil laughed. "You should have seen the look on his face; he was really getting frustrated."
"The look on Mama's face was the last thing I wanted to see, Veil, I assure you. And he wouldn't have been frustrated much longer if you hadn't gotten to me when you did."
"Yeah, well, I should have followed you in like I'd wanted to in the first place. It's the last time I ever listen to you."
I turned to the old man with the soulful eyes and bald head. "So Slycke was K.G.B.?"
"An informant, not an officer," Lippitt replied with a faint note of anger in his voice. "A traitor. He'd probably been feeding information to the Russians for years. They were blackmailing him. From what we've been able to turn up in the past twenty-four hours, it looks like they had the goods on him as a homosexual; he frequented some pretty heavy leather bars in the city. They probably entrapped him with K.G.B. personnel, took photographs and made tape recordings, and then threatened to expose and ruin him if he didn't cooperate by giving them information about who was in the clinic, and what went on there. That's the way these things usually work."
"What the hell's such a big deal about being a homosexual?"
Lippitt shrugged. "It's no big deal, as long as you don't care if people know you're one. Slycke cared very much; he had a wife and four children. The bars he patronized specialize in some pretty gruesome activities. It means I was almost certainly right about the connection with Prolix; it was Slycke who provided the information about Garth-"
"Garth!" I said, sitting up. Pain sloshed around inside my head, and I swayed. Veil grabbed for me, but I pushed his hands away. "Where's my brother?!"
Lippitt and Veil looked at each other. "He's missing, Mongo," Veil said at last.
I looked at Lippitt. "Missing?"
The Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency nodded. "He's not here, and he's not anywhere on the hospital grounds. He's missing, along with another patient by the name of Marl Braxton."
"Oh, shit," I said.
"Lie down, Mongo."
"You're sure. . he's not …?"
"We're not sure of anything, Mongo-except that he's not here at the hospital, and the police haven't found him wandering on the roads in Rockland County. The same with Marl Braxton. Everyone else is accounted for, so we're assuming for now that Garth and this Braxton took off together. There's also a male nurse who hasn't shown up for work for two days, and who doesn't answer his phone-but we're not sure if that's connected with any of this. He wasn't on duty when all of this happened."
"Tommy Carling?" I said.
"Yes," Lippitt replied, his eyes and voice registering surprise. "How did you know?"
"Just a guess; Carling was Garth's nurse on the day shift. You know, Braxton's supposed to be very dangerous. I never saw him do anything violent, but-"
"Marl Braxton is indeed dangerous," Lippitt said in a flat voice. "I've reviewed his file."
"What's his story, Lippitt? I know information about Braxton is classified, but-"
"Marl Braxton is fifty-five years old, although he looks at least a decade younger," Lippitt said evenly. "During the Korean War he organized and operated in a special, very secret unit which came to be known as Reprisals."
"He was an assassin?"
Lippitt nodded. "Of sorts. Reprisals could include assassinations, but they could also be other things-depending on what it was the North Koreans had done that called for reprisals. The North Koreans are a tricky bunch, and they started doing sneaky little things to annoy us and our allies after we sat down to negotiate with them at Panmunjom. That's when the Reprisals unit was set up. Marl Braxton was the principal operative in his own unit, and he was very good at what he did. Then the North Koreans caught him. They had him for five years, and he was severely tortured-with acupuncture techniques, of all things. First they ruined any chance he would ever have for a sex life, and then they ruined his mind. We eventually got him back in a swap of prisoners, but by then he'd become hopelessly damaged goods. He continued to carry out reprisals-killings; but he was carrying them out against our own people-people Braxton felt had betrayed him, or who were guilty of crimes that were only fantasies in Braxton's mind. When he does decide to kill, he's cold and calculating-which makes him far more dangerous, in a way, than the patient who wanted to kill you, Mongo. Marl Braxton gives no warning; but when he decides that a person should die, for whatever reason, that person usually dies. Over the years, the prognosis hasn't changed; he will never respond to treatment."
I swallowed hard, found that my mouth had gone dry. "And this is the man who's with Garth."
"Maybe they're together, maybe not. The police in the county have been notified, as well as the NYPD. There's a Missing Persons bulletin out for both Braxton and Garth."
"I would think you'd have them put out an APB for Braxton."
"We can't have the police put out an APB for Braxton without questions being asked about his background, and things like the Reprisals unit aren't matters we like to see discussed in the newspapers. Also, the police might want to try and interrogate Braxton after they picked him up; not good for Braxton, not good for us-and potentially deadly for any police officer who tried too hard to pick him up, or pushed him too hard afterward. Let's see how far we get with the Missing Persons bulletin. The police are simply supposed to notify us immediately if they spot either Garth or Braxton."
"I have to call my parents," I said huskily.
"I already have," Lippitt said. "They're taking it well. Your parents, as you well know, are strong and positive people. They're grateful for the fact that you're alive. I apologized to them for not removing Garth from the clinic as soon as I suspected something might be wrong. I apologized to them, Mongo, and I now apologize to you."
"You don't have anything to apologize for, Lippitt. You immediately let Veil know what your suspicions were, and he let me know. At the time, I thought you were out of your mind. You gave me the information, and I should have paid more attention to it. It certainly does explain why Slycke was so paranoid about me."