Critical

by Robin Cook

  It had been after the card game that Angelo had finally attended to Laurie. After getting her to promise not to make a scene, he’d removed the duct tape from across her mouth and allowed her to spit out the gag. He’d then asked if she were thirsty, and when she’d admitted she was, he held a glass he’d prepared for her. Laurie had taken it despite its taste, and from then on, she’d been easy to take care of. Angelo had spiked the drink with one of his small, white date-rape pills. Later in the afternoon, they’d added another to make the switch from the van to the boat a piece of cake.

  “Okay, come on, baby doll,” Angelo said, as he shook Laurie’s shoulder. “We’re going for a nice little boat ride.”

  Without any trouble, they got Laurie from the motel room into the van. With two of the Rohypnol tablets on board, they didn’t even need to rely on the duct tape, yet they elected to leave it on. With Angelo driving and Franco sitting shotgun in the van, and Richie and Freddie in Richie’s car, the group made their way to the waterfront. Once there, they headed directly to the marina. All was going well until the pier itself came into view. At that point, they noted something they’d not seen the previous nights: another car.

  Angelo braked and stopped the van. Richie pulled directly behind Angelo.

  “Can you make out the make of the car?” Angelo asked.

  Franco leaned forward so that his nose was practically touching the windshield. “It’s hard to say, but if I had to, I’d say it was a Cadillac. A black Cadillac.”

  Sitting back, Franco looked at Angelo. “Did Vinnie say he was coming?”

  “Not to me he didn’t. You think it’s Vinnie’s?”

  Franco shrugged. “It could be.”

  Angelo put the van back in gear and slowly drove forward. He didn’t like surprises, and he knew Franco didn’t, either. When they were fifty to sixty feet away, Angelo stopped again. This time, both men strained to see forward. “I think it is Vinnie’s,” Angelo said.

  Franco got out. And as he closed on the car, he could see it was Vinnie’s. Franco walked around to the driver’s-side window and knocked. Because of the tinting, he couldn’t see in. But then, looking out the pier, he could see why. A light from one of the lower gallery’s portholes was casting a dim, flickering beam across the water.

  Walking back to the van, Franco approached on the driver’s side. Angelo lowered the window. “It’s okay,” Franco said. “It’s the boss. He’s already out on the boat.”

  “I wonder how come,” Angelo said. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share the upcoming experience with the whole city.

  “Beats me.”

  They parked, got Laurie out of the van, took the duct tape off her ankles, and walked her out the pier. Reminiscent of the snatch that morning, they had to hoist her practically off her feet, but not because she was resisting.

  “I think you might have overdone the date-rape drug,” Franco said. Being nearly comatose, Laurie seemed to weigh a surprising amount considering her trim figure.

  “Hello, men!” Vinnie called to them when they drew near. He had been standing in the shadows of the afterdeck, but now he walked out more into the open. Ice could be heard clinking in his old-fashioned glass. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I realized I didn’t want to miss the fun. And I see you men have already got the quick-set and the other gear.”

  “We got it yesterday,” Angelo said, “and got it on board today.”

  “Good work,” Vinnie said calmly. “I also brought someone else with me.” He gestured back into the shadows. Reluctantly, Michael Calabrese stepped forward with a weak smile. “I got to thinking,” Vinnie explained, putting an arm around Michael’s shoulders. “Mikey here seems to come up with all this work for you guys and for me but never gets his hands dirty. You know what I’m saying? It’s just prudent business practice to have him participate. If push ever came to shove, he couldn’t throw up his hands and say he didn’t know what was going down when these nice people disappear.

  “Angelo, I know this is mostly your show, but I didn’t think you would mind sharing. Is that too much to ask?”

  Angelo held his tongue as he and Franco maneuvered Laurie across the gangplank onto the yacht.

  “I didn’t hear your response,” Vinnie said.

  “It’s okay,” Angelo murmured, as he and Franco helped Laurie across the open afterdeck.

  “There you go, Mikey!” Vinnie said, thumping Michael on the back. “Your fears are over. Angelo’s glad to have you on board, so let’s party.”

  While Franco and Angelo were below, putting the deeply sleeping Laurie in one of the staterooms, Richie and Freddie manned the mooring lines. Vinnie happily climbed to the bridge, and with his scotch at his side, he started the twin diesels and eased the boat from its slip. As they motored out into the middle of the river, Vinnie called down for someone to put on one of his Frank Sinatra CDs. A few minutes later, Hoboken’s favorite son was crooning away and massaging everyone’s mental state.

  It was a pleasant night. There was little wind and the water was calm. A scimitar moon was just peeking over the jagged, twinkling skyline of the city. To the north was the lighted George Washington Bridge with the Martha Washington level demurely beneath. To the south in the middle distance was their approximate destination: the illuminated Statue of Liberty. Within ten minutes, all worries, concerns, or irritation were blown away by the soft breeze and the loud but lulling sound of the engines. Everyone was either on the bridge or sitting on the gunwales in the stern, except for Laurie, who was sleeping off her unexpected medication, and Angelo, who was apparently beginning the preparation for the real reason they were all there.

  Ten minutes later, Angelo appeared and asked Franco to help him move Laurie up to the afterdeck. “You are right. We overdid the date-rape pill. She won’t wake up.”

  Franco followed Angelo below, and Richie went as well, in case they needed more help. A few minutes later, the group appeared, carrying both Laurie and the five-gallon bucket into which her feet were sticking. Freddie jumped out of a folding chair so they could sit her down.

  The group gathered around. Even Vinnie came down after putting the boat on autopilot. While Freddie ducked below for some rope to keep Laurie upright, Vinnie stuck his hand into the bucket to feel the consistency of the cement.

  “Impressive,” Vinnie said, looking down into the bucket. Laurie’s feet were buried up to mid-calf. “It’s almost dry.”

  “It only takes a half-hour,” Angelo said. “It’s actually called hydrophilic cement. The guy at the Home Depot recommended it.”

  Vinnie looked at Angelo and joked, “You didn’t tell him what you were going to do with it, did you?”

  Everyone had a good laugh.

  “The problem is, she’s passed out,” Angelo said, changing the subject. “I wanted her to suffer. Instead, she looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

  “Try to wake her,” Vinnie offered. “Maybe the fresh air will help.”

  Angelo patted Laurie’s cheek with the flat of his hand, but there was no response. He tried it harder. Still no response.

  Vinnie looked across at Richie. “Head up to the bridge and drive this brute of a boat. We shouldn’t leave it on autopilot. We don’t want to take a chance of hitting anything.”

  Richie reluctantly climbed the ship’s ladder. He didn’t want to miss the fun.

  “You and me are just going to have to take what we get,” Vinnie said to Angelo. Then, to the group, he added, “Let’s all have another drink and toast to Angelo’s vengeance!”

  As the boat bore down on the Statue of Liberty, the festivities hit high gear. A second Frank Sinatra CD had been put into the player, and when “My Way” came on, everyone sang. A few minutes later, when they got to the world-famous landmark, Vinnie yelled up to Richie to head out toward the Verrazano Bridge.

  “Hey, it’s my turn to join the fun,” Richie said. “How about someone else run this hulk!”

  Vinnie looked at Freddie and hooked a
finger in the direction of the ladder to the bridge. “Your turn,” he said with a slightly inebriated smile.

  Twenty minutes later, Vinnie poked his finger into Laurie’s bucket. The hydrophilic cement felt like it was supposed to feel. It was even cool. “I think she’s ready,” he yelled at Angelo. Angelo came over and felt as well and nodded.

  Vinnie went over and yelled up to Freddie to ease back on the throttle. Vinnie looked at Angelo. “This looks like as good a place as any.” They were in the mouth of the narrows with the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge dead ahead.

  “Fine with me,” Angelo said, slurring his words.

  “Freddie!” Vinnie yelled up the ladder. “Put it in neutral and come on down if you want.”

  “Hey, everybody,” Angelo said. “It looks like the evening air has done her a world of good: She seems to be waking up!”

  “Yes, she does,” Vinnie agreed.

  “Let’s give her a little time,” Angelo suggested. “I’d like her to know what’s going on when we balance her on the stern with her cement boot on.”

  “Perfect,” Vinnie said. “Time for another round.” Everyone cheered, even Richie, until Vinnie added, “Except you, Richie. Tonight, you’re the designated driver.”

  A half-hour slipped comfortably by as the men sat around Laurie and watched her slowly revive. There had been a lot of jerky movements over a fifteen-minute period, and finally her eyes had opened halfway.

  Although it was obvious to everyone except Angelo that Laurie’s lights were on but no one was home as of yet, Angelo insisted on talking with her in an attempt to get her to comprehend exactly what was about to transpire. Finally, he realized his efforts were in vain.

  Standing up, Angelo steadied himself with his hand on the stern’s gunwale. “Let’s do it,” he said. He undid the rope around Laurie’s torso, which had been holding her upright in the chair.

  “I want you to help!” Vinnie said to Michael, giving him yet another slap on the back.

  “That’s quite okay,” Michael said. “I don’t want to horn in on the fun.”

  “Nonsense,” Vinnie countered. “It’s a community activity. I insist.”

  Michael studied Vinnie’s face. He could tell the man was dead serious. Reluctantly, he moved to one side of Laurie’s rag doll figure.

  “All right, everyone!” Angelo said. “First, we stand her up!”

  Although the boat was in neutral, the engines still made considerable noise, especially when the exhaust pipes went under the water’s surface, a situation that produced loud popping noises reminiscent of gunfire.

  Moving Laurie from the chair to the very back of the boat was more difficult than they had expected. She was so flaccid, several people had to keep her upright while the others had to lift the five-gallon bucket of concrete. At that point, they faced the daunting task of lifting Laurie and the concrete up onto the stern gunwale.

  “All right on three,” Angelo said. Everyone was either grasping the weighty bucket or Laurie’s floppy body.

  Not everyone was immediately aware of a giant presence that had silently loomed out of the darkness, but certainly became so within seconds of each other. On the other hand, everyone was instantly frozen by the powerful and blinding searchlight beam, and everyone heard the word “freeze” as it was suddenly and loudly projected from a sizable directional speaker mounted on one of the larger vessels of the Harbor Police fleet. A second later, a grappling hook dropped over the yacht’s gunwale and the two boats were quickly made fast. A moment later, uniformed police swarmed out of the blinding light and relieved the revelers of the burden of Laurie and her concrete boot.

  EPILOGUE

  APRIL 10, 2007

  2:30 P.M.

  Detective Lieutenant Lou Soldano quickly stubbed his cigarette out in his car’s ashtray when he turned onto 106th Street. Whenever he even got close to Laurie, and even to Jack, for that matter, he always felt guilty about his smoking on account of having promised both of them he was stopping about nine million times. Slowing down, Lou parked in a no-parking access to the neighborhood playground across from Jack and Laurie’s. He tossed his NYPD auto identification onto the dashboard and got out of the vehicle.

  Although spring often would take a long time to appear in the city, it was doing fine as Lou looked around the neighborhood. A few crocuses had poked their delicate heads out of the ground in a small plot in the playground and even in a few window boxes on Jack and Laurie’s side of the street. In the small wedge of Central Park that Lou could see at the end of the street was a patch of lacy yellow forsythia.

  Starting across the street, Lou couldn’t help but notice how Jack and Laurie’s building stood out. They had just renovated it the year before when they had gotten married. Now several other buildings were in the process. The neighborhood was definitely on the upswing.

  Before the renovation, Lou could just push in through the outer door, since its lock had been broken some time before the war and never fixed. Jack used to joke that it was the Civil War. Now Lou had to ring the bell, which he did. Jack and Laurie lived on the top two floors. The rest of the building had been divided into rental apartments, but Lou had the suspicion that Jack and Laurie let them for little or no money to deserving families, particularly single-parent families.

  Presently, Laurie answered, which made sense, since Jack was still hobbled from his recent operation. Her voice sounded disgruntled. Knowing what they both had been through, he asked if he should come back at another time after identifying himself. Having come directly from court, he’d not phoned ahead.

  “Are you joking?” she questioned with exasperation, as if Lou were adding to her woe.

  “I was just asking. Maybe I should have called?”

  “Lou, for chrissake, get your ass up here!”

  Behind him, Lou could hear the door release activated. Quickly, he pushed it open, then held it with an extended foot. “I’m on my way.”

  “You’d better be.”

  Lou had no real idea what Laurie’s mind-set was. At first she’d sounded purely vexed, but then it had seemingly turned to pique. As he climbed the final flight, suffering from all the cigarettes he’d smoked in his life, he vowed once again to quit tomorrow or maybe the next day.

  Before he could knock and with his arm raised to do so, the door opened. Laurie was standing just inside the threshold, with one fist jammed in the crook of her hip. “Am I glad to see you,” she said, motioning over her shoulder with her head. “Would you mind talking to King Louis Quatorze over there?”

  Lou leaned in and looked into the living room. Jack was sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by all manner of treats, including juices, fruit, and cookies. Lou looked back at Laurie. He had to admit she looked good considering her horrid experience less than a week previously at the hands of vengeful two-bit mafioso types. Her face had her normal color, and her eyes were bright and fully open.

  “He thinks he can order in a semirecumbent exercise bike today and just hop on. Can you imagine?”

  “That might be rushing it,” Lou agreed.

  “Now, don’t you gang up on me,” Jack warned, but with a smile.

  “I’m not getting involved,” Lou said, raising his hands. “I’m just calling it as I see it. But let me ask the two of you a question: Are you getting a little stir-crazy locked up in here together?” Lou knew that Laurie had been essentially ordered to take sick leave after her abduction and torture.

  Laurie and Jack glanced irritably at each other, then simultaneously laughed.

  “All right!” Lou ordered. “What’s so funny now? Am I the butt of a joke?”

  Jacked waved Lou away. “Not at all. I think we both realized at the same instant that you were correct. Is that right, Laurie?”

  “I’m afraid so. I think we’ve been getting on each other’s nerves because neither one of us can do what we want to do. We both want to get out.”

  Clearly happier than they had been five minutes earlier, Jack and Laurie
welcomed a visit with Lou, for whom Laurie had quickly made fresh coffee. Laurie was sitting on the couch next to Jack, and Lou in a side chair on the opposite side of the coffee table.

  “So, how are both you guys?” Lou asked, balancing his coffee on his knee.

  Laurie looked at Jack and motioned for him to go first.

  “I’m as good as can be expected,” Jack said. “The surgery went fine, and, thanks to Laurie, I didn’t get anything I hadn’t signed up for, meaning a fulminant MRSA infection. I’m chagrined, to say the least, that I didn’t give the threat more credence. But I have to say, if a doctor tells you you’re going to have a little discomfort after a surgery, don’t believe him or her. Surgeons lie like crazy. But with that proviso, in general I guess I’m doing okay. It’s just hard looking out my living-room window at night seeing the guys having a run. I feel like a kid quarantined.”

  “What about you, Laur?” Louis asked, switching his line of vision. Laur had been the name given to Laurie by Lou’s kids back when Lou had first met her fifteen years previously.

  Laurie flashed a questioning expression. “I feel a heck of a lot better than people think I should. I’m sure it’s a function of the Rohypnol I was given. I mean, I’d heard date-rape pills frequently caused considerable amnesia, but I had no idea how total it would be or that it could involve retrograde events. I remember only sketchily confronting Osgood and then being locked in the storeroom. I’m not sure how I got out, although I do remember being chased by what’s his name.”

  “Adam Williamson,” Lou put in. “A tragic figure, I might add. At least in some regards. He’s an Iraq veteran who went through hell and has a lot of resultant mental problems.”

  “Did he pull through?” Jack asked. He noticed that Lou used the present tense.

  “He did. He’s going to make it. What we’re not sure about is whether he’s going to be willing to plea bargain with us. Obviously, we have him on attempted murder and conspiracy. You do know he was about to shoot you at point-blank range, don’t you, Laurie?”