Dr. O

by Robert W. Walker

  Boas watched them leave, and Riley exchanged a wave with Boas as he got into his side of the car.

  Riley was perhaps thirty, thirty-two, about Robyn's own age. He asked her if she had any intention of taking the FBI exams to become an agent.

  "No, just working this one case with Donna... Inspector Thorpe."

  "You two've become quite close. Staying with her here in D.C. What's the address?"

  "You seem to know a lot about it. My guess is you know the address."

  "Refresh my memory."

  She rattled off the street number, and a silence settled over the car until he said, "Everybody in the club is concerned about her, that's all, Muro. It's got to be tough being the sounding board for a brutal, sadistic man like Ovierto."

  "Yeah, you could say that."

  "She's not... coming unglued, is she?"

  "Thorpe? You kidding? She's like nails."

  He laughed lightly. "I've heard that. But even nails get rusty."

  "What the hell are you fishing for, Riley? What's your job, anyway, some kind of Internal Affairs officer? Checking on Thorpe, chasing buzz-bull and rumors?"

  "I've worked similar cases, and I'm just worried about her, all right! Everybody's worried about her. Everybody."

  "Who is everybody?"

  "The entire Bureau."

  "Her superiors, you mean."

  "You're pretty shrewd at getting answers yourself," he conceded. "Look, if you are her friend, you'll sit her down and tell her she's looking at a lot of flak on this and what happened in Seattle, not to mention her pushing some goddamned four-star general at the Pentagon against the wall."

  "She didn't push anyone—"

  "Pushed, pressed, probed, whatever term you want to apply."

  "Just tell me something, Riley, whose side are you on?"

  They'd arrived at the apartment, and the car came to a screeching halt. Riley had opened his door to come around when she said, "Don't bother. I know my way up!" She slammed her own door and rushed from him.

  Riley pounded the top of the car, obviously unhappy with the way things had gone. He chased after her and caught her at the elevators inside where the light was muted.

  "I thought I made it clear that—"

  He cut her off. "I've got a team of agents working under me, good men, and we'd like to help any way we can. Soon as Boas told me about the note... well, I figured, we have a clue, a way to track Ovierto this time."

  She was interested instantly. "What are you saying?"

  "I've already got my guys canvassing every cold storage facility in D.C."

  "Cold storage?"

  "For the bodies. If he's going to attempt an ex-change, he's got to put the bodies on ice, right, for a while?"

  She considered this, a small half-smile coming over her. "Riley, you may have something there."

  "I worked a few years in morgues to pay my bills. I know a little something about bodies."

  "So, how do we go about this?"

  "Bills of lading have to be worked out, if he ships the bodies to Canada."

  "But he could just fly them himself. He's got a jet."

  "A Lear or something, isn't it?"

  "Beech craft."

  "Hot little numbers, but the bodies would be easily detected, as old as they are. The odor alone—"

  "So he has to send them commercially? In refrigeration?"

  "Unless he's lying to her... unless he has no intention of making an exchange."

  "He'd do it, one way or another... to humiliate her further, to hurt her. So, he'll want the bodies in place."

  "So, you trust he'll take the bodies to the Canadian border, to the St. Lawrence Seaway?"

  She bit her lip and nodded, and then said, "He's sadistic where she is concerned. He very likely has a plan to... to... I don't know, set their remains on fire or send them into the seaway, God or Satan knows..."

  "So, we canvas every possible route out of the city Ovierto's grisly cold storage container might take, check all bills of lading and zero in on any heading to the seaway area either in the States or Canada. My guess is it'd have to be within a hundred-mile radius of the dam and the locks there."

  "You've thought a lot about this."

  "As I said, I've already got men working on it."

  "Orders from above?"

  His hesitation told her it was so, but she didn't push it when he said, "My unit's a troubleshooting unit."

  "Right now, Thorpe can use all the help she can get. I think I speak for her."

  "I'd say you were a good friend, Robyn Muro."

  "I try to be. Right now, Donna doesn't feel she has many left in the department."

  "Perhaps we'll have time to become friends as well."

  "You and Donna?"

  "You and I." Then he qualified it, saying, "All for one..."

  "Maybe... maybe. I'd better go up now, see how she's doing."

  "Right... right. I'll be in touch tomorrow."

  "Good. If we can locate and hold that shipment, we may have the key to destroying Ovierto."

  "Possibly," he replied without the faintest notion of what was swimming about in her mind. "We'll work on it all night, until we're satisfied we have something. Get back to you if we've got anything," he promised with a boyish flick of his wrist in her direction.

  "Thanks Riley, thanks." She turned and went into the elevator, a glimmer of sudden hope filling her mind. She had an idea, a way to get close to Ovierto, close enough to blow him into his own eternal grave, but it all hinged on Riley's success in finding that container and getting to it in time, and on a little assistance from Boas. She imagined it was time that the sting was reversed and that she and Donna now sting Ovierto. It would be risky, very risky. But it was a way.

  Her mind raced with the mad notion, but she knew she'd have to keep a cap on it until every detail was worked out. She believed she'd need Boas's help along with what Riley could supply. She didn't want to raise any false hopes, so when she entered the apartment, finding it darkened, she decided not to wake Donna. But then she realized there was someone sitting alone on the sofa chair.

  All about her, strewn on the floor, were photo-graphs, and Donna Thorpe sat among the images of her parents and her children in the dark, a drink in one hand, her gun in the other. She looked suicidal.

  Robyn went to her, going to her knees, asking for the gun. Donna gave it up without a fight, saying, "I won't make it that easy for the bastard."

  "Good... good girl. Now, come on. I'm putting you to bed."

  Donna kissed her lightly on the cheek and said, "You're so good to me, Robyn." She was in her robe, her voice slurred by the drink. "I thought maybe you'd left me, too."

  "No, no Donna... I'm here... I'm here."

  There was a sudden noise just outside the windows that opened on a small veranda. The sound made her grab the gun back from Robyn, turning for the window, her robe flying open, revealing her body beneath.

  "Donna, away from the window!" Robyn shouted, but Donna tore at it wildly, sending it flying back on its castors, and leaping out with the gun fully extended, shouting, "Come and get me, you son of a bitch! Come and get someone who can fight back! A live target!"

  Robyn rushed out to pull her down, her own gun pointing at the young teens who had snuck out onto the veranda opposite, knocking over a metal table while in the throes of passion.

  The terrified young people rushed inside under a chorus of apologies from what must appear a pair of crazed females. Robyn now confiscated Donna's gun and ushered her back inside. "Jesus, now will you take those sedatives Sam gave you and get to bed!" Robyn was more upset and frightened than she was angry. Donna latched onto her and cried into her midnight blue blouse.

  After that the night had passed quietly. Donna awoke before her and was on the telephone when Robyn stirred. "Coffee's on," she told her, pointing to the kitchen. Robyn heard snatches of her conversation. "Syracuse? That's as close as you can get me? Shit... What about Canada? Ottawa looks clos
est."

  Robyn saw that she had an atlas in her lap. "You're not going up there alone, Donna."

  "I'll do what I have to do. I've always done what I had to do. Why quit now?"

  Robyn went to her knees before her, pleading, "You can't play by his rules. With him there are no rules, only that he gets his prey, and right now—"

  "Don't try to cheer me up," she said. "The die is cast, kid. It's either him or me."

  "This isn't some goddamned wild West show. The man has to be stopped, and you're going up there at his request, alone! It's suicide!"

  "Suicide if I don't do anything."

  "There may be another way."

  "No, there's no other way."

  "Look, we've got people working on running down the... your parents' remains. We figure he's shipped them via a cold storage container of some sort, and Riley-"

  "Riley?"

  "Yes, he spoke with me last night."

  "Paul Riley?"

  "Yes."

  "He's no good... no help! His coming in like this, it means one thing. I'm seen as a liability by my own people. Bastards... they're all bastards... afraid of their own shadows, afraid of what we know about Pythagoras, afraid we'll go public."

  "Aren't you getting a little paranoid about—"

  "Paranoid? Paranoid? Christ, you're naive for a cop."

  "Donna!"

  "Sometimes paranoia is the only thing keeps you on top in this business."

  "But if we can find the crate, we could use it against Ovierto. I have a plan."

  "There's only one way to get Ovierto now. And it's a one-woman show, Robyn."

  "You're talking foolishness, recklessness. I won't let you face him alone, Donna. Never in a thousand years!"

  "I have no other choice, damnit!" She pulled the phone from Robyn, who had grasped it. "Don't try to get in my way, and don't follow. You follow and I lose... I lose my parents... I'll never forgive you, Muro... never."

  "Donna, I could go in your place. You're in no—"

  "No! Not a chance."

  "He's got you rattled. You aren't thinking straight. You aren't thinking like an FBI agent any longer. And that's just what he wants so that he has the edge."

  "I'm taking the dummy package to him."

  Robyn could see there was no dissuading her. Donna went back to the telephone conversation. "Ottawa, fine... fine. Do it." She gave the flight salesman her Visa card number. She obviously wanted to leave a clear trail for Ovierto to follow. She was already dressed and she got to her feet. "I'm taking an early flight. Ovierto will be watching, one way or another. He'll see me clearly enough and follow. He'll contact me about when and where, when he wants to. I'm sure I can count on his being thorough."

  Robyn had every intention of following also, but she said nothing, going for the coffee instead, saying, "Damn you, damn you! Go on then! It's obvious nothing else matters to you any longer! Go!"

  Robyn had hoped she'd hit a chord that might hold her, but she had played her wrong, and now the only sound in the room was the echo of the door as it slammed behind Donna. Robyn rushed to the door and pulled it open. At the end of the hall Donna looked back, holding her bag.

  "The guys call me the Iron Bra! Don't worry, Robyn. I can do this. I can take him."

  "Don't go. Not alone... not like this, playing his way."

  "It's the only game in town."

  The elevator door opened and she stepped in and disappeared. Robyn rushed back into the apartment and quickly dressed, letting her makeup go. She was about to bolt for the airport when the phone rang. She hesitated but then picked it up.

  "Riley here," said the voice. "Agent Paul Riley."

  "Yeah, any luck? Anything at—"

  "As a matter of fact, yes."

  "You're kidding!"

  "Not a bit."

  "I want all the details but—" she stopped, considering Donna Thorpe, picturing her boarding the plane for Ottawa, the capital city of Canada. Robyn had vacationed there once and had marveled at the changing of the guard at the government houses, the lumbering double-decker buses, and other British sights that made the tourist believe she was in London.

  "Where's Thorpe? This ought to go to her," said Riley.

  "Listen, Riley, you and I are going to have to play a little game of hide-and-seek, if you indeed know where Thorpe's parents are."

  "Right now they're in a storage house called Welling-ton's-"

  "In Ottawa, Canada?"

  "Yeah, how'd you know?"

  "Guesswork."

  "Some guesswork."

  "Listen, Thorpe's on her way up there now. Can you get clearance for a jet to get us up there immediately? It may mean the difference in getting Ovierto or not."

  "You're damned straight I can. But where's Thorpe?"

  "Thorpe's taking a commercial flight, to give Ovierto a false sense of security."

  "Good... good."

  "I'm on my way," she said. "Don't leave without me."

  "You've got some kind of plan cooking?"

  "Cooling... cooling, you might say."

  As soon as Riley hung up, she dialed Boas and told him as quickly as possible what the situation was and that she needed some very special medical help. "Will you trust me? Will you come to Ottawa with me?"

  "Yes, of course, but I don't understand what it is you need. You'll have to be a damned sight more specific."

  "When I see you, I'll explain."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ottawa, Canada

  "Benz-PW6, not even the Ruskies know about this shit. Highly experimental, Muro, so you'd better be damned sure... because I don't like bitching vege-tables." Dr. Boas said, holding up the substance in a tube to his eyes as the plane taxied to a stop at Ottawa Regional Airport —a secondary airport where they might avoid detection by both Dr. Maurice Ovierto and Inspector Donna Thorpe. From here time was of the essence, and the drug that Boas had confidence in would soon play a vital role.

  "How does it work?" she asked, a little apprehensive now that they were so near their objective.

  Agents of the Canadian Secret Police had been placed close to Thorpe, watching her every move. These men were in contact with the Mounted Police who were in turn watching Wellington's Cold Storage Plant on the periphery of an industrial park in an area dominated by a stone quarry.

  Boas took her hand in his. "You will be conscious throughout, but your blood pressure, your heart rate, everything will be slowed to a near standstill, a cryogenic live state."

  "Duration?"

  "Time varies with different people, but yes, on average, you should come out within the allotted time, so long as Ovierto doesn't deviate from the course you have designated for him, which is in all likelihood a possibility. In which case, you must go to a second injection, or you will most certainly freeze to death in that damnable box. Are you certain that—"

  "Yes, I'm certain. We'll never have another opportunity like this one. Now, let's move."

  The plane came to a standstill and they were quickly disembarking to the waiting pickup trucks below. They had made it clear to the Canadians that what they required was not limo service but a pair of beat up pick-up trucks. These Riley and another agent took charge of and drove Robyn and Boas in separate trucks to Wellington's, where the waiting frozen container, holding what she suspected were Thorpe's parents, would be found, if their information was good. In the meantime, the crate at Wellington's was being watched closely by Mounties in decoy dress, acting as workmen at the cold storage facility. So far as anyone knew, Dr. Maurice Ovierto had not come for his cold storage container.

  "We've got to rush," Robyn told Paul Riley.

  "Doing the best I can with these road signs, Sergeant."

  They were both on edge, as jumpy as a pair of cats. He said in the quiet of the cab, "Maybe... maybe I ought to go with you, inside the crate, I mean."

  "No need for that."

  "But the weight differential alone will tip off the doctor."

  "We
've got sand bags for that."

  "Suppose the bastard decides he wants to take off another piece of them? Opens it up, and finds you... locked in under the influence of that drug, unable to defend yourself... Christ, I'm not sure I can just stand by and watch them fetch your parts out of there."

  "Where you from, Riley?"

  "What?" The question caught the tall, handsome man off guard.

  "Where the hell are you from?"

  "Missouri, originally. Grew up in D.C."

  "The 'show me' state, huh? Then you get a good dose of the capital and you really get cynical."

  "My cynicism has nothing to do with it. There's any number of things could go wrong with this harebrained scheme of yours."

  "Harebrained? Now's a fine time to voice objections."

  "Now... now, I know who you are. Look, it just makes sense that both of us go together."

  "Thorpe doesn't know about this."

  "What?"

  "She has no idea we're here."

  Riley considered this.

  "It's the way she wanted it. No one but Ovierto and her."

  Riley looked at her as if she were mad. "And you let her come ahead anyway?"

  "Have you ever tried to stop her when she's made up her mind?"

  "Yes... without success... sorry. Look, this just adds to my reasoning. I should be there with you."

  "Why? Because you're a man?"

  "Because, damnit, I'm another gun."

  Robyn dropped her gaze, bit her lip and pouted a moment before saying, "Well, I can't say that I'm not a little scared."

  "You'd be dangerous if you weren't."

  "All right, we both double as the cargo."

  "Let's get to work then."

  At the storage facility they carefully pried open the box that contained Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe's remains, placing them into a second container which was ear-marked for shipment back to Washington, D.C. There was little doubt that Ovierto had no intention of coming near Wellington on his own and that he would send flunkies to do the actual carting; little doubt also that Maurice Ovierto would easily recognize any tampering, that he would recognize the box he had shipped here. They must be careful with the work, every staple and clamp straightened and driven clean.

  Boas was overseeing the removal of the grisly re-mains of Donna's parents, taking great care with them, showing the deceased every dignity when an agent with cold hands dropped Mrs. Thorpe, the sound like a clattering of piano ivory against the icy bottom of the new crate. Boas shouted at the men to be respectful. He cursed under his breath and returned to face Robyn and Paul Riley.