8

Corelli found a parking spot near where he’d picked up Willie Hoyte two hours before. He’d explained to Louise that she was to play the part of a befuddled visitor, should anyone question her-then she was to get the hell out of the hospital as fast as she could. Frank didn’t bother to tell her not to mention his name should she be caught and detained-whoever was behind this operation would figure that out all by themselves. Nor did he tell her about the peril he was placing her in.

After giving her hand a confident last squeeze, he sent her off to do his dirty work, wondering, if there was a God, just how he’d punish a man who’d taken such willful advantage of a distraught woman…a woman he told himself he was beginning to care about.

Louise darted across Fifth Avenue and went directly to the hospital entrance. Having never been sick enough to require hospitalization, she found the precincts fascinating where others viewed them with dread. It never occurred to her that she might walk in one day and never walk out, as it did to so many patients as they kissed relatives good-bye that nervous first day of their stay. The smells of medicine, sickness, and disinfectant that permeated even the lobby were nothing more to Louise than tangible signs she was in a special world mainly peopled by doctors and nurses. She didn’t identify these creatures in white with pain and suffering, and the hushed quiet of the halls, despite the even, heavy flow of pedestrian traffic, was comforting and relaxing.

Louise followed the helpful signs through the maze of corridors to the bank of elevators that would take her to the geriatrics floor. She stopped en route to buy a small bunch of flowers for camouflage. Upstairs, the open elevator doors revealed yet another of the hushed, neutrally painted corridors that, like arteries in a human body, were the basic stuff of hospital life. Unlike the main floor, however, this part of the hospital was almost bereft of pedestrians. Louise assumed automatically that because it was early afternoon, the elderly patients were most probably napping. Indeed, as she slowly made her way down the hall, peering into the partially open doors along the way, she was presented with a vista of white-haired patients dozing in rooms where the sunlight was mellowed and tamed by translucent drapes that rippled gently in the breeze.

Though she strode purposely ahead as if she knew her way and her destination, Louise was keeping track of the room numbers. She realized as she approached the nurses’ station that her destination-room 630-was beyond it. And she also realized that if questioned about whom she was visiting, she would be at a loss for a name. Bearing this in mind, Louise fixed her eyes on the nurse behind the desk, who lazily doodled in a chart. When she finally caught her eye, Louise looked at the flowers and smiled brilliantly, confidently. The nurse acknowledged the smile but said nothing.

Corelli had said that the black man, Lester Baker, was being held in room 630 and that a police guard occupied the adjacent room, 628. Both these doors were closed. Louise paused outside 628 a moment, hoisted her flowers chin-high, then pushed open the door and strode in. “Sorry I’m late, but…” she said as part of the simple routine aimed at throwing off the police guard: wrong floor, wrong room, wrong patient.

But there was no police guard. Nor was the room empty. Room 628 was dark and cool and the bed was definitely occupied. “Are those for me?” an ancient voice inquired from across the room.

“Why, yes,” Louise quickly covered herself.

“That’s very thoughtful, Lilly. Bring them closer so’s I can see them.”

Louise hesitated a moment, then went to the bedside. Before her an elderly woman of indeterminate age lay with her hands folded across her middle. Whoever Lilly was, she was obviously someone important, for the old woman smiled and accepted the flowers as if they were her newborn child. “You’re so thoughtful, Lilly.”

“Only because you’re so special,” she ad-libbed as she examined the room. It looked like any ordinary hospital room. “How long have you been here now?” Perhaps the old woman might know what had happened to Lester Baker and the guard.

“Since last June. In this very room.” The woman touched the flowers with her gnarled fingers. “They’re just lovely.”

“Well, I’m glad you like them.” Louise smiled and edged over toward the door that connected with room 630. Chances were that it too was now occupied-by someone other than Lester Baker. Louise was beginning to get a creepy feeling about all this. She still saw no connection between this hospital and Lisa. Still, what other leads did she have? She opened the door to room 630 and peered in. It was empty!

“Looking for something in particular, lady?” a deep masculine voice blared out from behind Louise.

She turned around to find herself mere inches from the biggest cop she’d ever seen. She swallowed hard for the first time since agreeing to Corelli’s wild-goose chase, knowing this wasn’t a kid’s game-and that she might be in real danger. “I thought I heard someone cry out,” she managed to lie. “I was just visiting my… great-aunt and, well, I don’t much like hospitals…”

“You say this lady’s your great-aunt?” the cop asked suspiciously.

Louise nodded, and as if on cue, the old woman raised her hand. “That’s Lilly, my niece’s girl. Haven’t seen her for some time now. You a friend of hers?”

“We go back a long way,” the cop replied grimly, like he was disappointed he hadn’t really stumbled onto something. “Now, what’s this about hearing a cry?” He returned his attention to Louise’s story.

“Maybe it was my imagination, Officer,” she said weakly.

“Musta been. There’s no one in the next room.” He pushed past Louise and flung open the door farther.

From where she stood Louise saw that the adjoining room was spotlessly clean. Yet Corelli had been so sure Lester Baker was being held there. It didn’t make sense. And though she smiled in delicate, feminine confusion for the cop’s sake, Louise trembled inside. She didn’t like disappearing patients and feared surly cops. And most of all Louise didn’t like to think all this underhandedness might have something to do with Lisa’s disappearance. Louise Hill lived her life never acknowledging the evidence that the modern world was rife with the forces of true evil at work. She chose to ignore the men and women who alone and in groups were able to reach into ordinary people’s lives, filling them at will with pain and suffering and, in some cases, instant death. But now, staring past the belligerent cop into the empty hospital room, Louise felt she was staring into an abyss created by the very people she pretended didn’t exist.

“Satisfied?” the cop taunted.

“Officer, I only thought someone might be in trouble,” Louise protested. “There’s no need to be rude.”

“The nurses are here to take care of trouble,” he said sourly. Then he switched course and took a different tack. “You say this lady’s your great-aunt? Can you prove it?”

“Sorry, but I left the family album at home,” Louise snapped. “I don’t know what all this is about, but-”

“Show me some identification, please.”

Louise was in no position to demur; she fished her license from her wallet and handed it to him. After a minute he looked her up and down. “Louise Hill? I thought it was Lilly.”

“It’s a pet name,” she lied artfully.

The cop studied the photograph on the license, memorizing the address, then studied Louise again. Finally he handed it back to her. “It’s best to mind your own business, especially in hospitals, miss,” he said rudely.

“Perhaps if you’d minded your own business, Officer, this whole unpleasant episode wouldn’t have happened,” Louise growled.

“Save the smart talk, lady. If you take my advice, you’ll finish your visit and leave.”

“Tell me something, Officer: does the hospital provide an armed guard for all the patients? Or is my great-aunt just one of the lucky ones?” The cop’s composure fell away. He blushed and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “You know, the director of the hospital is a personal friend of mine,” Louise pushed on bravely. “I wonder if he knows what’s going on here.” She was so caught up in her role that this dangerous ad-libbing seemed perfectly called for.

“Of course the director knows. He authorized the use of the room and…” The cop, realizing he was saying too much, glared at Louise, then lumbered to the door and left without another word.

Louise took in a deep breath, feeling just how scared she’d really been talking to the cop. But she’d held her own and had now bought time to get away without detection. Too bad she’d had to show him her real identification. Corelli wasn’t going to like it, either. But, hell, if she was to play Mata Hari, she’d do it her own way. That little bit of information about the hospital director okaying the cop’s presence might just come in handy.

“We fooled him, didn’t we?” The old lady smiled and waved a talon-like hand in Louise’s direction. “Come here a moment.” At the bedside, she took Louise’s hand. “Lilly was my daughter. She’s been dead nearly twenty years now. I’m just waiting to join her.” She looked off into the distance for a moment, then back. “They moved me into this room about two hours ago. I had a better room before, but what choice did I have? I’m just an old woman waiting to die.”

“You’ll be around for a while yet,” Louise said, hoping to comfort her co-conspirator.

“Don’t even think that, girlie. I’ve been ready to go for years. It’ll be a blessing.” She squeezed Louise’s hand. “Now you’d better leave. Two to one that cop’s checking on you out with the nurse. They all know me here… and they all know I’m all alone in the world.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Louise gave her hand a little tug and went to the door. The cop, indeed, was quizzing the desk nurse. While his back was still turned, Louise slipped out, ran down the corridor to another wing, and took the elevator to the main floor. In no time she and Corelli were lost in the heavy traffic edging down Fifth Avenue.

Half an hour later Frank sipped a tall iced tea while Louise finished recounting her adventures at New York Mercy. He’d suggested drinks at the outdoor cafe at the Stanhope Hotel opposite the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue. The café, unlike the usual makeshift conglomerations of tables, chairs, and patrons spilling out onto the already congested sidewalks, was discreetly tucked behind a low fence and a wall of shrubbery that cordoned it off from the outside world. Under the protective canopy, sitting there was truly a pleasure. Even if the news one heard was as disturbing as Louise’s.

“I want to know what’s really going on, Frank. That cop treated me like I was selling state secrets. Who is this black kid you’re so interested in? And, more important, what’s he got to do with Lisa?”

Corelli wanted to lie to her, but like it or not, he and Louise were now in this together. He’d seen to that! The cop-the same one Willie mentioned?-had certainly passed Louise’s name on to his superiors-the very same superiors who had arranged with the hospital director to secrete Lester Baker on the geriatrics floor and who had had a hand in allowing Ted Slade’s body to be examined and stored in the New York Mercy morgue.

It wouldn’t take much investigating for men of that caliber to discover that Louise Hill knew Detective Frank Corelli-even Dolchik could verify that. From the looks of it, the fat captain was probably right up to his red neck in this already. So, to lie to Louise now was to expose her to possible danger. It was a long shot, but he’d tell her the truth. What he knew of the truth, anyway.

“You’re joking, of course,” she said hoarsely when he finished. Her throat was suddenly very dry. She had to sip her gin and tonic before going on. “People… things…monsters living in the subway?”

Corelli nodded. “Louise, someone believes it…someone who is trying to keep it quiet. And unfortunately, that now means keeping us quiet.”

“Us?”

“You showed the cop your ID.”

“So now I’m a fugitive from justice?”

Corelli shrugged, relieved that in her confusion Louise hadn’t made the connection between the things in the subway and her daughter-at least for now. Sooner or later she’d piece it together and then all hell’d break loose. “ ‘Fugitive from justice’ is putting it a little strongly. Let’s just say that until we get this thing straightened out, you’d better stay with me for a while.”

“Where?”

“We can’t go to my place. I’ll fix something up with Quinn, he’s a pal of mine.”

“Doubtless he’s arranged these nights out for others of your lady friends?” she said sardonically.

Corelli smiled, wondering if Louise knew she actually sounded jealous. “Quinn is a regular Irish pimp for me. Why, he’s given my libido a helping hand more times than I can-”

“Frank,” Louise interrupted, “what are we going to do? I’m scared. Suddenly, I’m scared.” Her voice trembled and for a moment she looked just like the photograph of her daughter, Lisa.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t scared. But we’ve still got a jump on them. And that means right now we’re ahead of the game.”

“So what’s our next move?”

“I’m going to call Quinn, then a certain Dr. Geary at New York Mercy. He’s got the autopsy reports on Ted Slade.”

“You said you already talked to him.”

“But he didn’t answer the most important question,” Corelli said cryptically as he rose from the table and disappeared into the hotel.

He was back in ten minutes looking worried, but less worried than when he’d left. “Quinn has a nephew with an apartment in Greenwich Village. He’s away for a week or so and he left the keys with Quinn… something about feeding his cat or watering the plants.”

“And I take it you offered my domestic services?” Louise was relieved that they weren’t going to be spending the night at Corelli’s.

“You’ve got a way with living things, Mrs. Hill…if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Louise smiled. Right in the middle of a growing nightmare, Frank Corelli made her feel almost human again. It was no mean feat; she appreciated his concern and his attention and she wanted him to know it. “Detective Corelli, I don’t think I’d mind much of anything you say.” She finished her drink. “So what do we do now?”

“We drop you in the Village.”

“Not so fast, buster. What will you do while I twiddle my thumbs?”

“I’ll just do a little educated snooping.” He signaled the waiter and paid the check.

“I’m coming with you, Frank. All the way.” She pushed her chair back.

“No way. Thanks to me, you’re in enough trouble. I’ve got too much to worry about without wondering if you’ll be okay.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “If you don’t let me come with you, I’ll go off on my own. Promise.” She now folded her arms over her voluptuous breasts. “Now, you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Corelli stared at her breasts a moment, then shook his head for dramatic effect. Louise tagging along could only mean trouble. Whoever was behind the growing list of signs pointing to a major conspiracy to keep news of the “things” in the subway quiet was playing for keeps. They were only one step behind him, waiting for him to make the wrong move or to turn the wrong corner. If-when-that day came, Corelli didn’t want Louise by his side.”

“Let’s talk about what you’re going to do when we get to the Village.”

“I won’t give up, Frank,” she promised as he led her to the car. “And what happened to your doctor? Did you get the news you wanted?”

Corelli shook his head. “The switchboard said he was on vacation, wouldn’t be back for a month.”

Louise shook her head. “Now I won’t give up for sure. You’re going to need me, Frank.”

Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of Louise’s apartment house. “I thought we were going downtown,” she said suspiciously.

“There’s still time for you to get some clothes. I don’t know how long you’ll be away.”

Louise wanted to smile bravely, but she couldn’t. It was one thing to sit at the Stanhope sipping a cool drink and talk of “hiding out”; it was another to be running into her apartment to pack a suitcase, wondering if she’d ever get out again. The connection between Lisa’s disappearance and being a fugitive was still too nebulous. Nothing Frank had told her made sense. And now she was running. But she didn’t know why, or from whom.

“Let’s go.” Corelli opened the car door. The street was busy as usual; traffic to and from Broadway buzzed by them. Once inside the lobby, Frank hesitated and glanced back to the street, just to be sure. As he did, a black car pulled up opposite where he’d parked. The two men inside the car didn’t get out. Corelli squinted his eyes but didn’t recognize either man. He did, however, recognize that they were watching Louise’s building.

“Something wrong?” Louise’s voice jolted him back to reality.

“Just an overactive imagination,” he lied, pulling her away from the door. “Come on. I won’t feel good until we get you out of here.”

While Louise packed a few things and arranged with her answering service to take messages, Frank stationed himself at the front window. The car was still there. One of the men had gotten out and was now assiduously studying the menu in the window of a nearby restaurant. By the time he was beginning to look conspicuous, Louise was back.

“I have to make one phone call-to the police.”

“Call from downtown,” he countered harshly. “Is there a back way out of here?”

“There’s a back staircase that leads down to a service entrance.”

“Good. I’m going to leave by the front door. You take your suitcase, walk downstairs, and leave by the service entrance. If you can, don’t let anyone see you.”

“What is it?” Her voice was full of tinny fear.

“Nothing that we can’t take care of.”

Corelli rode down in the elevator. The operator was fixated on a small throaty portable radio that shouted at him in Spanish from a wooden stool in the car’s corner. On the ground floor, Corelli thanked him and sauntered slowly out of the building onto the street. The car and men were still there. As Corelli appeared on the sidewalk, the man at the restaurant window returned to his companion. They had a brief conversation.

Corelli guessed that Louise’s absence surprised them. To them it must have meant not only that Corelli was unaware he’d been tailed but also that Louise Hill was now alone-and vulnerable. He held his breath. Now was the moment of truth: they either followed him or they stayed to snatch Louise-allowing him time to get back to get her.

Baby, if there’s any justice left in this world, let them stay put, Frank prayed as he started the car and pulled out into traffic. When he stopped at the corner for a red light, he realized just how tightly he was holding the steering wheel and relaxed his grip. He swallowed hard, and hesitatingly, almost daintily, looked into the rearview mirror- the black car was still parked on the street. The two men had fallen for the ruse. And the moment he pulled around the corner, both men left the car and ran across the street to Louise’s apartment house. In another five minutes they’d discover they’d been had. It would be the longest five minutes of his life.

Corelli sped down Columbus Avenue. He was racing against time, and soon Louise would be a sitting duck at the service entrance-unaware she was in danger. He hadn’t told her about the men because she would have panicked, and people do crazy things when they panic-freeze, run the wrong way, get hysterical-things that would endanger her. And in the crunch, if Louise blew it, Corelli would desert her. The idea annoyed him because he genuinely liked Louise, but his affection wasn’t so strong that he’d jeopardize his investigation.

He turned into Seventy-eighth Street and almost ran head-on into a car stopped at the light. Jesus, he’d forgotten…it was a west-east street. He’d have to go all the way to Seventy-seventh, then around the block and up Amsterdam before getting back to Louise. He hadn’t calculated that delay. Shit! A dull panic began to fill his stomach as he swerved back into traffic and ran a red light onto Seventy-seventh Street. But it was no good, for a garbage truck sat squarely in the middle of the block.

Corelli’s hands tightened on the wheel, grinding the hard plastic into the soft pads of his fingers. In his mind he saw Louise with her suitcase waiting for him while four stories above her the two men discovered they’d been had. He imagined her smiling face as she waited for him, staring out into the street as the service door opened behind her and the two men walked quickly, efficiently, silently to her side. She wouldn’t know they were there until it was too late.

He leaned on his horn in a vain attempt to get the truck to move. The truck driver peered out at him from the large rearview mirror, shrugged, then looked away. Corelli ground his car into Park, leaped out, and a moment later stood panting on the running board of the truck.

“Look, you sonofabitch, this is police business. I'll give you exactly five seconds to move your ass or 111 have you in for obstructing justice!”

The driver’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “Sorry, sir, I-”

“Never mind the excuses, just get going.”

By the time Corelli had his car back in gear, the truck had pulled far enough aside to let him pass. He floored the engine and the car squealed by the truck, leaving a thick track of rubber on the pavement. He ran two more red lights and made it back to Seventy-eighth Street behind Louise’s building in thirty seconds. She was waiting for him up near the service entrance. Corelli swallowed hard to digest his fear, smiled, and waved to her.

She smiled and waved back at him, then hoisted up her suitcase and began ambling toward him. She hadn’t seen his panic. Frank wasn’t much for prayer, but for the second time that day he began reciting every verse he’d ever learned as a child. The two men upstairs had had more than their allotted time to discover that Louise was gone-and where she’d gone. If they were smart, they’d already be quizzing the doorman about back exits. It was only seconds to the back entrance, and…

The service door flew open and the two men ran out into the bright sun. They halted, shielded their eyes, and immediately saw Louise heading toward the car. There was nothing Corelli could do to help her. To get out now was to get himself caught, too. To yell was to scare Louise; she’d panic for sure. He only hoped she had enough sense to run like hell once the men made themselves known.

“Hold it a moment, miss,” one of the men yelled.

Louise turned, saw the two men, and broke into a run. She was little more than halfway between the car and the building, but she had a hell of a lot at stake. She hauled her suitcase to her chest and broke into a flat-out run that had her by the car in seconds. Corelli threw open the door, grabbed the suitcase, and pulled her in. He floored the car and sped away, just as the taller of the two men reached into his jacket for a gun. The second man stopped him and shook his head.

All the way downtown Corelli kept thinking of the man reaching for the gun. This time he was playing for keeps, and the image of the gun pointed at Louise’s back angered him just enough to make him silently vow that he’d win, at all costs.