Me being lion bait did not seem to be working. Which could mean that Khalil and his local contacts had no idea I was out and about. Or they knew, but they smelled a trap. Or Khalil was gone.
No. He was here. I knew he was here. And as Kate suggested, and as I suspected, Khalil had his own plan for John Corey. He hadn't come this far with that much hate in his heart to let me live.
Back in my apartment building, I spoke to the two surveillance guys in the lobby, said good evening to the night doorman, got in the elevator, drew my Glock, and so forth.
My apartment was terrorist-free, and I made myself a Scotch and soda and collapsed into my La-Z-Boy.
I decided not to barricade my door tonight-I am available at home. I swiveled my recliner so it faced toward the foyer, put my Glock in my lap, and fell into a half-sleep.
I had a recurring dream that the door burst open, and in some of the dreams I was pumping rounds at the dark figures silhouetted in the hallway light. In other dreams I couldn't find my gun. One time, my gun jammed.
Where does this stuff come from? I used to dream about sex.
Friday morning. The sun came through the balcony doors and it looked like it was going to be another nice day. Today would also be a good day to kill Asad Khalil.
The shower is a dangerous place, as everybody knows who saw Psycho. I mean, you're naked and defenseless, and you can't hear anything with the shower running. So I took a nice bath, with my Glock, which will fire when wet.
I visited Kate at Bellevue, and she'd had a bad night and had made up her mind that she was breaking out today.
She said, "I am not spending the weekend in this place."
I really didn't want her back in the apartment yet, so I said, "Tell you what. If something doesn't happen by Monday, you and I will fly out to… where your parents live…"
"Minnesota."
"Right. But just hang in here a few more days."
She didn't reply.
I really didn't want to go to East Cow Meadow, Minnesota, but maybe I could deposit Kate with her parents and get back here. Her father has a small arsenal in the house, and her crazy mother is a skeet shooter who can handle a shotgun better than most men. Also, ofcourse, Khalil didn't know Kate was even alive. To the best of my knowledge.
On that subject, I asked her, "Did you ask Tom about a gun?"
"I did. It's against hospital regulations for a patient to have a gun."
"That's a silly rule. I mean, maybe the convicts on the floor shouldn't have a gun, but why can't everyone else have their own gun?"
"John… please."
I took my revolver out of its holster and slid it under her pillow. I said, "You'll sleep better with Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson."
She nodded, but didn't reply.
I put her laptop on the bed and said, "Get into the Sullivan County Medical Examiner's Office."
She hesitated, then logged on and found the site, and discovered that Katherine Mayfield Corey had died in the Catskill Regional Medical Center. The cause of death was listed as homicide.
She stayed quiet awhile, then said, "I guess your point is that I shouldn't complain about being here."
"Better here than downstairs." Meaning the city morgue.
"Okay… Monday."
I stayed for lunch-broiled stool pigeon with plea bargain peas-and as we dined, Kate asked me if I was going out again Monday night, and I replied, "I haven't heard."
She said, "It's a waste of time."
"What would you suggest?" I asked.
"I don't know, but… Khalil's not going to fall for an obvious trap."
"It's not that obvious." I added, "It's good for everyone's morale and it makes the bosses happy. Plus, you just never know."
She took my hand and said, "John… Khalil has obviously thought this out. I told you, he has his own trap. For you."
"I hope so."
"Don't hope so."
"Look, Kate, I can spot a trap, too."
"I know you can. And I also know that you'll walk right into it because you think you can turn it around." She suggested, "You have a big ego."
Leading cause of death among alpha males.
She said, "Monday, two tickets to Minneapolis."
"I thought you wanted to go to Minnesota."
She said, "I'm looking forward to getting out in the country. It will do us a lot of good."
"Right." Should I remind her about what happened last Sunday when we got out in the country? Probably not.
I stood and said, "Okay, I have to go."
"I'll go online and book the trip."
"Great." Actually, of course, I wasn't going with her. Unless Asad Khalil was dead by Monday. And if I was dead by Monday, then I certainly wasn't going to Minnesota. That would be redundant. I reminded her, "You have a revolver under your pillow."
"Maybe that will improve the service here."
"See you tonight."
She suggested, "Take the night off, John. I'm fine here."
"Are you sure?"
"I'll see you in the morning."
"Okay… I'll call you later."
She also suggested, "Do not give your protective detail the slip and go out to see if Khalil is waiting for you."
Wives become mind readers. Or maybe I was predictable. I replied, "I wouldn't do anything that dangerous."
"Of course, you wouldn't." She suggested, "Let's talk every hour."
"Right."
We kissed and I left.
I spent the afternoon on paperwork and thinking, and also working out. A sound mind in a sound body. The body is easier to work on.
I had eaten my last can of chili, and there was nothing left in the apartment except things in bottles. So at 6 P.M. I called down to my protective detail and ordered a pepperoni pizza, which is good for the soul.
At seven, my intercom buzzed and the SO guy said, "Pizza coming up."
I unlocked the door and left it ajar, then drew my Glock and moved back into the foyer. If the pizza had anchovies, the delivery guy was dead.
There was a knock on the door, then it opened, and there was Captain Vince Paresi carrying a pizza box. I wished I had a camera instead of a gun.
Paresi noticed me holstering the Glock, but didn't comment.
He said to me, "I thought I'd keep you company tonight."
That sounded like it could have been Kate's idea. Or Walsh's. Or Paresi had the same idea himself-Corey needed company and needed to be watched. I'm flattered.
I said, "That's very thoughtful of you."
"Yeah. Take the pizza."
I took the box and noticed that Paresi also had a bottle of red vino under his arm.
I suggested, "Let's dine al fresco."
He reminded me, "You're not supposed to go out on your balcony."
"Live dangerously."
I took the pizza out to the balcony and set it on the cafe table. Paresi remained in my living room while I went back into the kitchen and collected a corkscrew, glasses, a few napkins, and a bottle of Scotch.
At my urging, he joined me on the balcony, and we shared his wine and my pizza. It was a nice night, and below on the street the city was coming alive on this Friday evening.
The wine wasn't bad and the pizza was okay, and the conversation was sort of strained. Also, Paresi kept looking at the buildings up and down the street. Vince was not a good date.
Finally, he said to me, "Those bastards could nail both of us up here."
"Don't be paranoid. More wine?"
He suggested, "Let's go inside."
"It's nice out here." I let him know, "If Khalil wanted to whack me with a sniper rifle, he'd have already done it." I added, "He has something else planned for me."
Paresi replied, "I was thinking about me." But not wanting me to think he was any less brave or crazy than I was, he produced two cigars and we lit up.