Gray Night

by Gregory Colt

  “So, now you’re immortal?” the man asked.

  “That’s me. Should swing by the hospital though. You know, to keep up appearances,” said Adrian.

  The man laughed. I laughed. Adrian’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body went slack, sliding over the dead man to the floor.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I awoke in the hospital. Warm sunlight filled the colorless room and I decided it was a very good day, mostly because of the waking up part. I rolled my neck and wrists around until a dull pain tightened around my body. It wasn’t sharp or hurtful just intense discomfort. Sort of like when you haven’t moved in a long time. Which I guess is what it was. That, and the IV in my right arm didn’t like being jostled. Neither did my left leg in the stirrup.

  “Easy there, Captain,” Special Agent Bob Coughlin said. He sat in the chair next to my bed reading a newspaper.

  “Not anymore, Bob,” I said.

  He put the newspaper down. “Funny, sure seemed like maybe you forgot that part when you rushed in before backup arrived. What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I didn’t know if I had any backup coming or not and wasn’t going to let someone remain in there one second longer than I had to,” I sighed. “But I didn’t have a choice either.”

  “The drugs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Doc said you were pretty messed up inside. Major overdose inundated your whole system. Would’ve come down hard and fast.”

  “Bingo.”

  He nodded and asked me to tell him how it all happened. I did. Then he told me a story of what all he thought happened, and how based on the testimonies he’d gotten from Djimon, Diamond Jack, Sheriff Clark, Detective Harris, Claire, and others, he seemed satisfied with how the accounts lined up.

  “Claire. How is she?”

  “Brought her in with you. She spent about a week down the hall there. Detox and observation. She’s been fine for several days. Looks a hell of a lot better than you.”

  “She did even before all this mess.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he chuckled.

  “Is she still here? I’d like to talk to her.”

  “She was released yesterday. Detective Harris picked her up.”

  Right. “The missing girls. Did you see them?”

  “Djimon took me to Stratford. He was uncomfortable and repeated that you would be upset about me being there, to which I responded by letting him know how much I didn’t care what you think.”

  I grunted at him. “They all right?”

  “Looks like it. Ms. Summerfield and Djimon brought in several physicians, Dr. Page among them, and saw to their treatment. Most needed detoxification, not unlike you and Dr. Spurling, but it will take longer according to their length of exposure. They suffered from dehydration and malnutrition as well. I’m told most should make a full recovery but, well there’s no good way to say it, there’s some who won’t make it.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “Mm-hmm. Care to tell me why you never mentioned Stratford?”

  “There was a time when someone, anyone, connected to me would be in danger, would be used just to get at me. The less involved, the less connected, the safer everyone else is.”

  “Made a lot of friends over the years, I see.”

  “Lots and lots of them.”

  “I wasn’t thrilled at first, but when I calmed down I started thinking maybe it was something like that. The women, the Auction, action taken during and after, have to go in my report, but maybe I don’t need to be so specific there near the end.”

  “Thank you.”

  I looked around the room and noticed an elaborate display of flowers with a card, and an open book face down on the bedside table.

  “Djimon was here. Irish Page as well. Stayed the night and next day with you while you were in surgery.”

  “Surgery? On my leg?”

  “Good call, Sherlock.”

  “Bite me. I was hoping I’d just need stitches.”

  “You’re lucky to be alive. On TV, guys always get shot in the leg lucky to have missed the femoral arteries. This,” he pointed to the stirrup, “is what happens in real life when you get hit in the middle of the leg.”

  “It cut the artery?”

  “Nicked it. The surgeon was furious and wanted to know who’d let you move around on it after being shot because it ripped open more whenever you moved.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “You don’t seem concerned.”

  “I was a half second away from being eaten alive. Thanks, but I’ll take the blood loss any day. Who are the flowers from?”

  “Makes sense,” Bob said, handing me the card. The design on front and back was the front and back of a Jack of Diamonds. Inside was simply printed: Get well soon!

  “I think maybe we need to talk about that, don’t you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good thing you can’t go anywhere, because I do. I’m aware of Diamond Jack’s involvement in this business and for his cooperation he was granted immunity.”

  Immunity? Bastard belonged in prison as much as anyone. Yes, I’d needed his help. The world wasn’t all black and white and I’ve worked with worse, but then I remembered all those glass walls I’d built and how I needed to keep my love of throwing stones in check.

  “Yeah,” Bob scowled. He must have seen something in my own expression. “I’m not thrilled either, but we got a big win. A big win. The Vitale organization undone, the auspicious Auction busted, the Gray Night spreading across the city stopped, and several missing women found alive. The Governor and the Mayor both gave a speech and everything. Bailey got a promotion.”

  “A promotion? What about you?”

  “Me?” he grinned. “I got the satisfaction of watching the director of the New York field office, my superior, commended on allowing Bailey and I such a free reign with our CI’s, and being encouraged to go above and beyond the call of duty. Never seen anyone so pissed off and honored at the same time. It was a thing of beauty.”

  “So, I’m a confidential informant now?”

  “Adrian, we need to talk about the hearing.”

  “The hearing? You mean they still held it? While I was unconscious?”

  “Easy. Yes, they held it.”

  “Patch me up so I’ll survive the trip,” I mumbled.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Knight,” he said, tossing a laminated badge onto me.

  “I thought they were dead set against me?”

  “They were, but then someone, a noble, brave soul with a silver-tongue who shall remain nameless,” he said smugly, “stood on your behalf and explained the public relations nightmare that would ensue should they be seen throwing two agents and a prize asset under the bus who were instrumental in the most high profile shakeup of organized crime in almost two decades.”

  “So, now what?”

  “Nothing. For now, you’re my CI. Official and in the books.”

  “There was a reason I wasn’t in the books to begin with.”

  “Yeah, but now you don’t have to contend with state and local authorities alone. If you don’t remember, someone matching your description ran around breaking all kinds of laws last weekend.”

  “Is it going to be a problem?”

  “No. Not this time anyway. Everyone’s too busy congratulating themselves at city hall.”

  “Detective Harris won’t be.”

  “Harris is a tough cop, hard line, and an enormous asshole, but he respects the chain of command. He won’t like it, but he’ll accept it.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but I declined to comment.

  “Is Sheriff Clark in any trouble?”

  “Not after Harris talked to Claire. He refused to believe anything except what she corroborated. Which was all of it. I think he was afraid of looking like he was wrong. And, maybe genuinely sorry for it.”

  “Sorry for it? He could have gotten her killed.”

  “I mean legitimat
ely sorry any of it happened to her. But he’s conflicted because he’s convinced he did the right thing, too.”

  All of which could have been leveled at myself as well. “I guess I know how that feels.”

  He nodded. “You know, Adrian, you’ve bought some goodwill here, for a time, but it won’t last. The day will come when someone’s going to want more from you.”

  “Someone? Or you?”

  “Someone. You’ve done all right by me and Bailey. After spending some quality time in your life, maybe I’m thinking some of the conclusions in your file are less than accurate. Maybe.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Hey Bob, what’s with the book?” I asked, pointing to the nightstand.

  He grinned again. “First night you were here, Claire came in and sat with you. Next night you started having seizures and night terrors you wouldn’t wake from. On a hunch, one of the nurses asked Claire to come in and talk to you, and son of a bitch if it didn’t work. Craziest thing I’ve ever seen. She wasn’t sure what to say, and seemed uncomfortable with everyone there in the room, so I grabbed a book from over in Pediatric Care for her to read. She came in every night since.”

  “She doesn’t cut it out, that woman’s going to build up a debt I can never pay off.”

  That caught Coughlin off guard and he cracked up laughing.

  “You too, Bob,” I said when he’d calmed down again. “I mean it. You saved our lives in there.”

  “Not from what I saw. You should have seen her stand over you like a thunderhead. She wasn’t about to let the thing take you and I think maybe she could have done it, too. But, you know, I figured it would be wise to be able to prove to forensics that a federal agent was on scene, so I went ahead and stepped in. So really, I rescued her. You, on the other hand, were saved by a girl.”

  We both laughed. It felt good.

  I was released later that afternoon and Bob sent me down to the lobby to wait on the ride he’d called. My Chevelle pulled to a stop out front five minutes later. Claire was driving.

  I gradually made my way to car without limping. I may not be what any sane person would call extra cautious, but a few days ago I had a hole in the second largest artery in my body and that is not something to take lightly.

  She got out and walked around to wait by the passenger door for me, but didn’t run over to help. She just stood there waiting in jeans, a long sleeved white blouse, and a surprisingly subtle leather criss-cross buckled corset. She smiled.

  However, when I got close she checked her watch and gave a dramatic sigh. I laughed.

  “You’re late,” she said when I got to the curb.

  “A protagonist is never late, nor is he early; he arrives precisely when he is meant to.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes,” she grinned. “Here, I have something for you.”

  She opened the passenger door and pulled something from the back seat. It was a dark wooden cane with silver trimmings and scrollwork near the top. The head was a silver chess piece. A knight.

  “Here,” she said, handing it to me.

  I took it, but fumbled my thank you. I hadn’t been given a gift in a long time, and now Claire had done it twice. I held it firm and set the tip on the ground to lean some weight on it. I didn’t have any pain or discomfort, but it did take the stiffness out of my leg and hip. It was nice.

  “Th…Thank you.”

  “The surgeon said you would begin feeling more discomfort, even some pain, after several minutes of walking on it for the first couple of weeks and that it was normal. I thought this might help.”

  “Yes, it makes a difference,” I said, coming to a decision. “I have something for you, too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Come on.” I gestured for her to get in the car.

  We did, her easier than me, but the cane helped. It really did.

  She looked over at me from the driver’s seat, expectantly.

  “Head for the Hollow, Spurling. On the way you can fill me in on what I missed.”

  “Deal.” She started the car.

  She started from the beginning, right after Lewis—sleazy ponytail guy, I corrected—kidnapped her outside the café, but she remembered very little. She recalled almost breaking free once, then later being stripped and chained down when Roman returned from the Auction. That part she remembered in excruciating detail. That, and everything that followed.

  She hit the highlights of her stay at the hospital, and I understood something more about her. She never said it, but I got the distinct impression she talked more about everyone who called, and sent flowers and cards, because no one cared enough to come and see her. Sometimes I felt like the most isolated person on the entire planet. I only had three real friends and the two who were in town came to see me several times. Only Nick was absent, and he’d called twice while I was unconscious. Hell, Bob had even stayed the whole time. Okay, he may have been obligated by the federal government, so maybe I shouldn’t count that one.

  I watched her as she drove through the city and saw the girl who was liked by everyone and close to none.

  She’d spoken with Djimon one of the times he was at the hospital and asked him about the stolen artifacts that were supposed to be at the Auction. She was so excited, so relieved, that we’d managed to get so many of them back. The two made arrangements to deliver the artifacts to the museum and Richard Allison called the next day to verify everything had arrived, except the book.

  Djimon told her someone else had acquired the book and he was not able to outbid him, having spent all his money on the rest. I’d need to talk to Djimon about it, but apparently he told her he thought he could get it back, in time. Claire was happy to have everything accounted for, and at the very least, someone knew where the remaining item was. It was enough for now.

  I had also missed Henry Wagner and George Wilkins funerals while in the hospital. Claire didn’t go into much detail, but she had been very happy with the ceremonies. I guess the turn out for both was huge which, knowing the two men even as little as I did, didn’t surprise me in the least.

  When we were far enough north, I directed her off the highway, through town, and into the countryside several miles. We turned off onto a long wooded drive through large wrought iron open gates opposite the low evening sun slipping behind the trees. At the end was a small parking area in front of a massive old structure of brick and stone sitting atop a low hill in the middle of a cleared field.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  I opened the door and got out, making liberal use of my cane, and she followed into the brisk air.

  “Welcome to Stratford Home,” I said. “It’s a school. A boarding school.”

  “And why are we here?”

  “Most of the girls Roman took were between fifteen and twenty. None of them had any family. Most had no home. Djimon brought them here after the Auction. After receiving proper medical care, and given food and rest, some decided to head back into the city. Some decided to stay. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Djimon and Ms. Summerfield opened the front doors and walked out to meet us in the driveway.

  “Dr. Spurling, you already know Djimon,” I said, making introductions.

  He bowed to her and she grinned.

  “And this is the indispensable Ms. Summerfield,” I introduced the older woman in her fine cotton dress.

  “Pleasure, dear,” she said, shaking Claire’s hand. “Mr. Knight, it is so good to see you on your feet, sir.”

  I got a hug. It hurt.

  “Give me a couple of weeks and maybe I’ll take you dancing,” I said.

  Ms. Summerfield giggled. “You wish.”

  The front doors opened again. Brandon led Ruby by the hand out onto the porch, pointing at something in the distance before he saw us in the driveway. He waved.

  I waved in return and looked at Claire.

  “Is that…is that Ruby Jordan?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I thought you
would like to meet her after so much trouble.”

  She grinned great big and practically skipped to the front porch.

  “He decided to stay,” Ms. Summerfield said. “Brandon. He wants to wait with Ruby. He proposed as soon as the poor girl was lucid. He was lucky she said yes the way he smothered her. Then they both talked about staying on, volunteering and such. Maybe find a place to stay back in town.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” I said, watching Claire cover her mouth all of a sudden. I swear I heard her squeal. I assume they were discussing the coming nuptials. “See to it, Ms. Summerfield.”

  “Right away, sir,” she said. She didn’t show it, but she approved.

  I asked Djimon if he would spend some time with the boy for his own good. Djimon laughed an agreement and Ms. Summerfield went back to the porch.

  Djimon spoke once everyone was out of earshot. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m out of commission. For a while at least.”

  “Good. You need a vacation.”

  “Me and my femoral artery.”

  “I heard. A few weeks rest before light exercise increasing in intensity over several more.”

  “Aye. Djimon, Claire said you got everything but the book.”

  “I purchased them all as a lot. Then Diamond Jack and I watched you pinned in by the state police while we were in the rental shop. I knew you wanted what we’d found no matter what, and Jack offered his assistance.”

  “The cop who let me go. He was one of Jack’s men on the force and got me out in exchange for you giving Jack the book didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, that presented a whole host of new problems, but at least I knew where the hell it was. Besides, as much as I hated it, I knew it was in good hands with Jack. Good being a relative term.

  “We’ll deal with that another time,” I said.

  Djimon nodded.

  I looked at Claire and Ruby talking and laughing. At some point Thomas had come outside to join them and both women were taking turns rubbing his head. He hated it.

  “How much did the Auction set us back?” I asked.

  “All. I held back a few pieces that would be the most difficult to replace, but the bulk of arms from the Concordia had to be sold to come up with enough.”