Head Wounds

by Dennis Palumbo

  “But we’d always assumed he’d tracked your movements using the GPS we found in your car.”

  “You mean the one we were supposed to find…that Maddox wanted us to find. To throw us off. Make us think he couldn’t track me anymore.”

  I heard Gloria cluck her tongue. “Now I get it. That’s also how he knew about the safe house. At least its location.”

  “Right. When I showed up there, I’d inadvertently led him right to us. This whole time, he’s had me belled like a cat.”

  “Well, not for long.”

  It was Barnes, coming out from the bathroom. Holding the scalpel by its slim handle, he gave it to Gloria.

  “Let the butchery begin.”

  She must have been too nervous to come up with a snappy comeback. Instead, she patted me on the shoulder and took a number of fairly audible deep breaths.

  Lyle Barnes bent his tall frame and peered sideways at me.

  “Want a shot of whiskey? For the pain? I always keep a flask in the car. For medicinal purposes such as this.”

  “No, I’m good. I just want the damned thing out.”

  “Suit yourself.” Barnes reached behind him and pulled one of the motel’s thin washcloths from his back pocket. “At least you oughtta bite down on this.”

  He rolled it up and inserted it between my teeth. As instructed, I bit down. Hard.

  At the same time, I felt a cold liquid splash on the back of my neck. From the smell, I knew that Barnes had found another use for the whiskey. A makeshift antiseptic.

  “Here goes,” Gloria whispered.

  l l l l l

  It was the longest ten minutes of my life.

  Then, finally: “Got it,” she said.

  The pain had been considerable, but biting down on the rolled-up washcloth did indeed help. Though not much. Especially when I felt Gloria digging around the edges of the incision, to work the scalpel’s tip deep enough to get under the chip.

  I let the washcloth fall from my mouth, but stayed on my stomach as Gloria bandaged the wound. Luckily, along with the flask, Barnes had a first aid kit in his car. I can’t say that this surprised me. In many ways, he was a combination of a hardened, world-weary Federal agent and overgrown Boy Scout.

  Another tap on the shoulder was my signal to get up to a sitting position. The back of my neck throbbed with pain, and the towels beneath me were spackled with my blood. But I seemed to have come through the procedure in one piece.

  Barnes and Gloria were both looking at me expectantly, even as she daubed at the sweat on her forehead with her sleeve. Her eyes still wide and brimming with apprehension.

  “Thank you, Gloria.” I tried on a smile.

  Somewhat speechless, she could only nod. Meanwhile, Barnes was examining the bloodied metallic chip in the palm of his hand. Poking it with a long forefinger.

  “Looks like an RFID transponder,” he said. “Nifty little gizmo. Long-range transmission. Very nifty, indeed.”

  I frowned at him. “Well, I’m glad you’re impressed, Lyle. I’d hate to see you disappointed.”

  “It’s always good to know your enemy, Doc. It’s even better to show him the proper respect. Later on, it can save your ass.”

  He showed the chip to Gloria. Slowly coming out of her post-op trance, she took a moment to examine it.

  “Pretty advanced subdermal implant. Encased in silicate glass. I’ve seen one before.” She looked up at us. “We have to assume it’s still functioning. So now the question is, what do we do with it?”

  “Good point.” I stirred slightly, sending a shaft of pain up the back of my skull. “If we destroy it, Maddox will know we’ve found it.”

  Barnes considered this. “Then let him go on thinking it’s still where he put it. This way he keeps getting its signal.”

  “Which means we get to lead him around by the nose.” Gloria gave a weak smile. “Instead of the other way around.”

  I nodded. “I like that.”

  “Speaking of other way around,” Barnes said. “I think it’s time for me to tell you to get some sleep, Doc. You look pretty damned done-in.”

  “Not yet.” I slowly stood up from the bed. “Not before I see if the story broke about Angie, and what the police are saying about it. If they’re saying anything.”

  Despite their half-hearted protests, I scooped up the TV remote on the bedside table and clicked on the set bolted to the wall across the room. In moments, I found the early morning news. The assault on Angie was the lead story.

  “According to a police spokesman,” the bland anchor said, “there has been an attempt on the life of a high-ranking member of the Department’s administration. While the name of the victim has yet to be released, Chief Logan confirms, through that same spokesman, that the crime happened last night, and that the well-regarded member of his staff is in critical condition.”

  “They’re keeping things pretty close to the vest.” Barnes was watching from his seat on the edge of the bed. “Like I expected. Especially given how little they actually know.”

  “At least until Angie wakes up and can talk.” I quickly corrected myself. “If she can talk. Even so, I’m sure Maddox was too careful to let her get a look at him. Just in case.”

  Gloria murmured her agreement.

  The news anchor then switched to another segment, detailing the police department’s admission that there was little progress in its ongoing investigation into the death of Harvey Blalock. The piece ended with a video of a press conference the day before, at which the new acting-president of the Pittsburgh Black Attorneys Association promised she would continue to pressure law enforcement, and the Mayor himself, until the cowardly killer had been apprehended.

  Finally, there was a shorter piece about last night’s fire at the abandoned movie theater in Wilkinsburg, including some aerial footage shot by the station’s news chopper. When they cut to an on-scene reporter, he explained that the building had been deserted for years. Further, that Captain Welch of Fire Company 27 had confirmed there’d been no loss of life. As to the cause of the explosion, it was still under investigation.

  I clicked around to other news channels, but they all relayed pretty much the same information about the various crimes. However, I was struck by the fact that no mention was made of the hit-and-run death of Stephen Langley.

  “That’s old news,” Lyle said bitterly. “Concerning an old guy that nobody gives a damn about.”

  Something in his wan countenance suggested to me that he was implicitly referring to himself. But whatever I thought I saw there, it quickly faded from his face.

  Meanwhile, Gloria was still holding the tracking chip between her slender fingers. Brow knitted in thought.

  “Guys, if we’re right in assuming this thing’s still working, Maddox now knows where we are. And that means—”

  “We have to move again,” I said.

  l l l l l

  Which we did, after Barnes used his throwaway cell to book two rooms in another motel, about four miles south of Pittsburgh International Airport.

  Each in our separate cars, we drove through the pale dawn light to a motel that was practically a duplicate of the one we’d just left. As part of the same nationwide chain, the only difference was that the L-shaped building was smaller, and located in a much more sparsely populated area.

  Though before I joined Barnes and Gloria there, I got off at a nearby exit ramp and searched the near-rural roads for a vacant lot. Finding one not too far from the parkway, I pulled up beside it and tossed the tracking chip into a clump of weeds.

  With any luck, Maddox would think this was the location where the three of us had holed up next.

  Not that our luck had been so great up till then.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sitting on one of the twin beds in the motel room, hazy morning light streaming throu
gh the shutters, I swallowed two of my pain meds. Not that I’d need much help getting to sleep. Barnes had been right. I was physically and emotionally spent.

  As at the previous motel in GreenTree, Lyle had gotten a room for the two men and a second for Gloria. It was ludicrous on the face of it, but something about the arrangement soothed Barnes’ sense of propriety. He’d also pointed out that renting one room for the three of us would attract the desk clerk’s notice, which was something we certainly didn’t want.

  Regardless, Gloria had spent the past few minutes in here, making sure I was really going to go to bed. Which I dutifully did, pulling the threadbare covers over me.

  “And don’t worry,” she said now, closing the shutters against the light. “I won’t climb in later and molest you.”

  Gloria gave me a smile somewhat brighter than our situation warranted, bent and kissed my forehead, and then left the room.

  Despite the images from the past days’ events swirling in my mind, and the persistent pain at the back of my neck, I fell almost instantly into a deep, enveloping sleep.

  l l l l l

  I woke up at three in the afternoon, both reasonably well-rested and ravenously hungry. As I’d expected, the room’s other bed hadn’t been slept in. Pulling on the same clothes I’d stripped out of to sleep, I went over to the shutters and let in the somber half-light. Another gloomy, overcast day. But at least it wasn’t raining again.

  I found Barnes and Gloria in her room, on facing chairs at the writing desk, a tray of empty paper plates and Styrofoam coffee cups between them. Next to the tray was another paper plate, covered in plastic wrap. They’d gotten me a toasted BLT and fries, with a lidded coffee cup to one side.

  “Good, you’re up.” Gloria nodded at the covered plate. “I was just about to split that with Lyle.”

  Balancing the plate on my knees, I sat on the edge of the bed. After two huge bites of the sandwich, I started to come back to life. More or less.

  “Before you ask, Doc,” said Barnes, turning in his seat toward me, “there’s been no contact from Maddox.”

  Instinctively, I glanced over at Gloria’s laptop, uncovered and with its lid open on the bedside table. The screen blank.

  “We’ll see how long that lasts.” I sipped the strong black coffee. “Until then, I better check my office voice mail. I don’t like spending so much time out of touch with my patients.”

  Gloria stirred. “About your voice mail…You realize we can’t assume it’s secure. Maybe it’s not something you should keep using.”

  “Hell, Gloria, I’ve never assumed Maddox hasn’t hacked it. But my patients have to have access to me, even now. Besides, it’s not as though he doesn’t know who they are. Or all about them. From the files in my laptop.”

  Barnes weighed in. “We should also assume he’s broken into your house by now and bugged your landline phone. The one connected to an answering machine. Remember, he opened the lock on your Mustang without leaving a trace, and I’ve already proven—twice—how easy it is to get into your house.”

  I frowned. “Thanks for reminding me. And you’re probably right about my home phone. But, frankly, I’m starting not to care. I’m tired of giving him that psychological edge.”

  “What do you mean?” Gloria sat up in her seat.

  “One of the ways Maddox keeps spooking us is by seeming to be omnipresent. All-seeing, all-knowing. Which in turn makes us tentative, reactive. Always playing defense.”

  Barnes scowled. “That’s because it’s his game, so he gets to make the rules. Whether we like it or not.”

  “But that’s my point. It’ll stay that way until we figure out a way to change the rules.”

  Gloria folded her arms. “Well, I’m open to suggestions.”

  “I’m working on it,” I said.

  And I was.

  l l l l l

  At Gloria’s insistence, I finished my meal. Then I used my throwaway cell to check my voice mail. Two messages. One was from a long-time colleague, following up on our plans to have drinks together soon. The other was from Noah Frye.

  After listening to his anxious, rambling message, I hung up and regarded Barnes and Gloria.

  “Noah called me. He said he was just watching the news and heard about Angie.”

  “So they’ve released her identity,” Gloria said. “I’m kinda surprised they didn’t withhold it longer.”

  “Me, too. Though it’s probably to get out in front of the media. I know from experience that it’s better that her name comes from Pittsburgh PD than the press. This way, they can take some control of the narrative.”

  Barnes grunted. “Son, you’ve been hanging around with the Department brass way too long. You’re starting to sound like one of those lame-ass suits.”

  “Maybe. But wasn’t it you who said something about knowing your enemy?”

  I swallowed the rest of my coffee and stood up.

  “I’d better return Noah’s call. Give me a couple minutes.”

  However, the first thing I did when I got back to my own room was check the TV news. As Noah said, the police had released Angie’s name, and a vague description of what had happened to her. Omitting, of course, any specific details. They also confirmed that she was still listed in critical condition.

  Clicking off the TV, I used my throwaway cell to phone Noah at the bar. If memory served, there was still a little time before Happy Hour, when he’d be too busy to talk.

  Noah picked up on the third ring.

  “Sorry to hear about that Angie lady, Danny. Ain’t she your cousin or somethin’?”

  “Or something. Hard to keep track of all the branches on the family tree. But I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

  “Right. But promise me that don’t mean you’re gonna play amateur detective and try to do somethin’ about it?”

  “Don’t worry, Noah. Never entered my mind.”

  “Right,” he said again, voice thick with doubt. “Ya know, Danny, it ain’t always easy bein’ your best friend. Havin’ to worry all the time about what you’re gettin’ yourself into.”

  “Believe me, I know the feeling.”

  “Whatever. By the way, forget about comin’ to see the old trio back in action. Rufus, my bass player, just split for Atlantic City. Says he got a better gig with some sax player he knows from when they were in rehab. What a douche.”

  I didn’t mention that I’d forgotten all about it.

  “’Course, I shouldn’t be surprised,” he went on, oblivious. “Rufus is just like everyone else. Christ, I hear it every day at the bar. Guys get hammered, then start bitchin’ and moanin’. Sayin’ how they shoulda done this, coulda done that. If only this would happen. That’s the trouble with people, Danny.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, nobody’s happy. And ya know why? ‘Cause everybody thinks the party’s happenin’ somewhere else.”

  I was still digesting his words when I heard a rapid knock on the door. Then Gloria’s urgent voice.

  “It’s Maddox, Danny. And it’s bad.”

  l l l l l

  Back in her room, the three of us gathered at the bedside table, our eyes riveted to her laptop’s screen.

  Sebastian Maddox, in a collared denim shirt, glared out at us. Livid.

  “Now you’ve done it, Danny. You fucked with me and my plans, which means I’m going to have to fuck you back.”

  I’d never seen his normally mocking, self-possessed face this dark with anger. His green eyes narrowed to icy points.

  “What are you talking about?” I leaned in to the screen.

  “The chip I implanted, as you damn well know. It’s not there anymore.” He shook his head. “Jesus, are you that clueless? Did you think I wouldn’t know? Wouldn’t find out?”

  Barnes couldn’t help himself. “How, da
mmit?”

  “The wonders of nanotechnology, Lyle old boy. I improved on the transponder by adding software I designed myself. I coded it to send me a digital signal if the chip’s core temp changes from 98.6, plus or minus five degrees. I gave it a little range in case Danny here got a fever or caught a chill. Just to cover all contingencies. Sweet, eh?”

  For a brief moment, he permitted himself a smile.

  “I don’t know where you hid it, dropped it, or threw it, but it’s sent me the warning signal. So I know you and the chip have parted company, Danny. And after I went to all the trouble of planting the GPS tracker in your car where you’d find it.”

  “Yeah,” Gloria said coolly. “We figured that out already.”

  Ignoring her, he aimed those merciless eyes at me.

  “Like I said, since you messed with me, I’m going to do the same to you. Change things up a bit. Raise the stakes. I’m sure there’s a philosophical pretext for doing so, but as Aristotle said, ‘It is unbecoming for young men to utter maxims.’”

  Barnes looked as though he wanted to respond, but suddenly Maddox disappeared from the screen. Instead, we only heard his voice, returned somewhat to its didactic tone.

  “As you know, Danny, I’ve spent a good deal of time and energy compiling the names of those who are close to you. A pool of people from which I can select my victims. My kill list, so to speak. And while I trust you can guess who they might be, I always think visual aids make a much deeper impression.”

  The screen flickered for a moment, and then a still photo of Sergeant Harry Polk appeared. Some recent candid shot, taken on a city street in daylight.