Saboteur: A Novel

by J. Travis Phelps

  Tackett’s car pulled around the corner at the top of the hill and he rolled down his window yelling out to Sullivan. “That better not be Tina you’re blowing off in there.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he said “but she’s cool, we’re gonna meet later.”

  “What is this emergency that pulls me away from my drunken self-loathing at such an hour?”

  “We need to talk about the case,” he said jumping into the car.

  “Ex post facto, my man. Nothing left to discuss.”

  “Wrong.”

  “Come again?”

  “Look, sometimes when you pull at a single thread you unravel an entire rug, and this is one crazy ass rug man.”

  “I forgot my poetry translator at home, detective. Could you say that in stupid for us slow city folk?”

  “I showed Downy the picture of Samara’s corpse in interrogation and he said she was wearing different clothes from the ones he remembered. She was found in a t-shirt and light colored jeans, right? So on a hunch I go to Woody’s,” he said pointing back over his shoulder, “where they ate that night to see if anyone remembered what she had on, maybe their waiter, a bartender. Pretty girl, you know. People remember pretty girls. So the waiter does, and the guy knows Downy too.”

  Tackett looked at him sideways, seeming unconvinced.

  “He confirms that she was wearing the same black sweater and dark jeans that Downy claimed she was.”

  “Yeah, but they went back to Downy’s house. What does it matter what she wore to dinner? She coulda just changed there for bed, the way most people do. What are you getting at?”

  “Why would she change into jeans for bed? Think about it. No, no. Not if he gave her the drugs in the drinks. There were still 50 milligrams of Darvocet in both their systems. They had at least two or three drinks each. Two tiny girls, they should have been toast by then. Yet, the waiter says they left in a semi-normal state, not clearly drunk. They weren’t drugged until later, I’m sure of it. Those kids found the body at 2:30 am. They left Woody’s around 1 am according to Downy’s wife.”

  “Did you see her by the way?”

  “Jesus, I know. Smoking. Anyway, that’s not enough time to get the girl home, drug her, then murder her, change her clothes, and then dump the body. The extra step doesn’t make any sense anyway. It takes twenty minutes at least to even get to that lake and don’t forget, his wife said they had sex when they got home. The fact that both girls had almost the same amount of Darvocet in their systems suggests they were drugged at the same time. If he was planning all along to kill her, as this supposed sword theory suggests, why was he in such a hurry to do it? Once his wife was out cold he should have had plenty of time and yet in our version he barely has time to do any of it with any margin of error whatsoever. Look he at least had help. Or?”

  “Goddamn you Sullivan.”

  “What?”

  “I knew this wasn’t finished somehow. This case is going get me I just know it. Ten thirty-two is cursed, fuckin always has been.”

  Tackett gunned the car as they pulled onto the interstate.

  “So what’s our next move?”

  “We have to get to the station, to Downy’s phone. He claims his agent knows more than he’s telling. I wanna talk to the guy and see what’s what.”

  “Ok, but this stays quiet. Do you understand? Tierney finds out what we’re up to and I’ll lose my goddamn pension.”

  “We can’t have that.”

  “Screw you, Sullivan. You’re a royal pain in the nuts, you know that?”

  “I’ve been called worse by better men,” he said staring straight ahead with a goofy grin.

  Tackett shook his head in disgust. He pulled his flask out of his coat pocket and drove the two silently back to the station.

  Chapter IV

  The man stared silently into the black of the pond. He dipped his fingertips in for a moment and then pulled them away suddenly, as if the water were scalding. The place both fascinated and terrified him. He could understand why so many claimed they saw serpents in the water’s depths, the way the water undulated. The teacher had called it black energy. “How many more times could he make it through safely?” he wondered. The last trip would be the hardest of course, but he couldn’t think about that now. Killing a good man was against his nature, but then again his nature was changing lately wasn’t it?

  Low clouds hovered over the pond, partially obscuring the sun. You could taste the moisture almost. There was a large marble statue only a few feet away of Poseidon holding his trident, scowling in concentration, aiming at something unseen in the water. He wondered who’d put it there. In the ruined corridors that surrounded the pond there were statues of many varieties, at least one of which seemed to move of its own accord. He had never seen it move, but its position was changed each time he returned. There was the flowering vine that died right in front of his eyes and of course the childish laughter that seemed to emanate from nowhere. Other sounds of exultation, fear, horror, the roar of an invisible crowd that lay hidden somewhere in the water’s depths. Nothing much made sense, but he’d grown accustomed to the feeling. The cubes helped, but they always wore off and that meant there were moments of unbearable anxiety and fear. He sensed that many were trapped in this place somehow, though of course he could not explain who they were or how they had gotten there.

  Something on the far side of the pond surfaced suddenly, breaking the water’s inky silence. Bubbles appeared all around and the man moved around the perimeter to get a closer look. The thing moved slowly toward him until he could clearly make out the shape. It was the sword. Goddamn it, he thought to himself, it had come through with him. How could he not have noticed? It was a problem potentially. Without the sword there was still a chance they could find him. So far his plan had been flawless and this was a very unfortunate oversight. What were the odds it would cost him? Slim. But he hated tempting fate. The sword floated, as everything did, inexplicably on the glassy surface, but he could not reach it.

  Now he had to weigh his options. Leaving his captive was dangerous, but in all likelihood he was safest right where he was. The bigger issue was an unforeseen calamity on the other side of the pond. The book had warned of it explicitly. Each time he went through he was leaving little remnants, clues, of his presence and he felt somehow his luck must be running thin, whatever was left of it anyway. Then again only days ago it seemed his luck had run out completely. Maybe he had a clean slate now. He looked down the staircase into the darkness and sighed. Why did every move of his life have to be so full of risk? He looked across to the crumbling rocks and saw a young fawn walking unevenly over the crags. He stared at it for a long while to make sure it was real. Many things that passed through were simply illusions, mirages. It was headed for the pond, probably mistaking it for water. It stopped suddenly, then looked to him, putting its head low so as not to be seen. Then, like a flickering flame it simply vanished. Some marble from the statue of Poseidon cracked off and fell to the ground. The statue creaked, seeming to turn on its base.

  “You move too slowly,” the man spat to the lifeless statue. “You’re never gonna catch a wild animal like that.”

  Poseidon’s expression was frozen in concentration and the man thought he looked even more severe than before. It was probably his imagination.

  There was no reason to wait for events to take shape he realized; he could shape them, as he always had. Sitting and waiting was simply not in his nature. He’d go back. There was no other way. He pulled two tiny sugar cubes from his pocket and plopped them in his mouth. He owed it to the teacher to show him something beautiful, something amazing and already he was beginning to like the professor very much. The professor was going to teach the whole world all about him in fact, he just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter V

  Sullivan and Tackett cruised into the station, which fortunately was all but abandoned, save for the night watch.

  “Remember, you don’t check anything ou
t, just get the digits and then we go.”

  “Yeah of course,” he said. I’ll be right back,” he said jumping out.

  Tackett sat in the lot tapping his finger against the steering wheel, absent-mindedly humming a tune from Sullivan’s Frank Sinatra collection. He closed his eyes for a moment when he felt the cold steel behind his neck and then a calm voice from the rear. He jerked forward lurching, but a hand wrapped around his mouth pulling him back hard against the headrest.

  “Move again and you’re dead. It’s a big gun you feel there and will leave an awfully big hole. Drive quickly, but not too quickly.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Never mind that now.”

  “Look, killing me won’t solve anything,” Tackett said slowly pulling the car into gear.

  “Yes, you’re quite inconsequential it’s true, but I need you nevertheless. Now drive.” The man pressed the gun into Tackett’s temple to emphasize the point.

  “Ok, Ok.”

  Tackett pulled the car out of the lot, looking into the rearview for Sullivan, hoping he might emerge in time to see them, but then had to pull onto the road, finally disappearing completely from sight.

  ***

  Sullivan leaned against the desk of the night clerk. “Hey’a Tim,” he said buoyantly.

  “It’s Mark, actually.”

  “Mark, yeah that’s right, sorry bud. Hey man, I logged in some evidence earlier on the Downy case, wondering if you could let me just double check something.”

  “Uhm, you know what policy says, once it goes in nothing goes out and Chief Tierney even made a special trip down earlier to--”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, “he knows I’m here actually. It’s probably nuthin’, but I just need to confirm something. You can follow me down if you want.”

  “Yeah ok,” Mark said hesitantly. “I will have to, actually. Sorry man, it’s nothing personal.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell Bob what a good job you’re doing.”

  “Thanks,” he said jangling his keys for the evidence room as they walked.

  He opened the door and watched from a few feet as Sullivan pulled out the basket, shuffling for the cell phone.

  “Hey, can I ask you something?” Mark said smiling nervously.

  “Yeah, shoot man.”

  “Rodriguez. You uh…you, you know…hittin that?”

  Jesus, Sullivan thought. He looked Mark up and down realizing he was no more than twenty at best.

  “Nah, man. I got a girlfriend.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, we’re getting hitched later tonight actually.”

  “No shit?”

  “No, not really,” he said flatly.

  “I’m sorry dude, I didn’t mean--”

  Sullivan scribbled down the digits on his notepad and looked up at the kid.

  “You want to hear a rumor that’s true though, Mark?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I heard Tierney cross dresses on the weekends.”

  The kid burst into nervous laughter. “No shit, man. Rodriguez saw him at a lesbian bar two weeks ago, was calling himself Tina Bubbles, sumthin like that. Keep it on the down low, ok? Have a good night kid.”

  Sullivan sauntered out of the station into the night and saw before him an empty parking lot. What the fuck? he thought to himself. He reached into his pocket for his cell and saw a message from Tackett:

  Rodriguez needed back up across town…take the truck parked at the end…key is under the left back tire.

  Sorry…

  He walked shaking his head to the SUV parked at the end and reached under the tire for the key, then let himself in. Scrolling through his phone he looked up the London time zone of eight hours and realized it was morning there already. He could call then. He dialed the digits carefully from the paper and waited while it rang. A voice picked up with a distinct British accent. It was a woman’s voice.

  “Hallo, this is Wingate Publishing. How may I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m looking for Clellon Holmes; I believe he works there. This is--well I’m calling from the San Diego Police department actually.”

  “Oh, ok sir. Mr. Holmes is out on vacation at the moment, I’m afraid. Could I take a message for you?”

  “Yes, this is rather an urgent matter actually. Is there some way he can be reached?”

  “He’s abroad. I can send him a message though, if it’s urgent.”

  “I see. It’s crucial he return my call as soon as possible. One of his clients is in well…some trouble here. Maybe you know him, Noah Downy?”

  “Of course, I hope it’s nothing--”

  “I can’t say too much more, but it would really help if he called. It would help Noah.”

  “Let me send a message immediately, sir. Should he call you at this number?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sure if he knew he…he will do anything to help Mr. Downey. Oh dear, I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

  He couldn’t help but think of Money Penny from James Bond.

  “Please make certain he knows it’s urgent.”

  “I will, sir. Yes, I will.”

  He held the phone in his hands and looked at the clock. It was 11:57 and he thought of Tina, who should by now be lying in a bed with one helluva view, stomach full. He would have to find some way to bill the department. He popped the glove compartment and sure enough there was a flask inside. He unscrewed the lid and took a shot. Jack, but he had no chaser. He leaned his head back and started to daydream. He thought of Tina’s skirt and those crazy sexy high heels. She was waiting for him hopefully right now. He realized the many dangers of a younger woman, but there was something about Tina that he couldn’t shake. She was unusually strong, and well, he liked her. What was she, twenty-three maybe? It was Richmond all over again. He hadn’t even thought of the place with all that had been going on. It felt far away and long ago somehow. He took another deep pull from the flask and let himself doze for a moment. His phone vibrated. It was an unknown number; it had to be London. He punched at the green accept button.

  “Yeah, this is Sullivan.”

  “Yes, uh hallo, this is Clellon Holmes calling. I received a message from my secretary that you needed to speak with me urgently.”

  “Yes, thanks for returning my call so quickly. This is Detective Sullivan calling from the U.S., San Diego, actually and I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me regarding Professor Noah Downy?”

  “Yes, of course. I hope everything is ok.”

  “No, as a matter of fact Professor Downy is in a great deal of trouble here. He’s been arrested for the capital murders of two police and a young woman by the name of Samara Patterson.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Oh good gracious no, you cahn’t be serious. That poor girl.”

  “I’m afraid I am. I spoke to him earlier today and he says you might have some information that can help him.”

  “You know her then, Samara Patterson, sir?”

  “Yes, of course. Her father was a client here. This is such devastating news.”

  “Professor Downy wanted me to ask you about a couple of things. Have you ever heard of a place called the pond?”

  “I know lots of ponds I suppose, but none in particular, no.”

  “Yeah, ok. What about a man by the name of Nazim, who I believe resides in Cairo? Downy claims this Nazim has been behaving strangely regarding Charlie Patterson, in particular that Patterson isn’t deceased, or at least that’s what he’s claiming.”

  “Dear lord, what sort of madness is this? Charlie has been dead more than five years now. Nazim was his boat handler and guide, but I don’t know anything about this frankly.”

  Both men took a breath.

  “Is Noah ok? Forgive me, but I’m just deeply concerned. He’s such a good man, he cahn’t be responsible for this. I’m just sure of it.”

  “Yeah, there is a good bit of evidence he is, unfortunately, but I’m sure t
he two of you can talk at some point. He’s claiming he’s been framed, and it’s a pretty unbelievable story he’s telling frankly. So just to clarify, Downy says he called you two nights ago and you made some comments that were suspicious. He’s claiming you must be somehow involved.”

  “I haven’t spoken to Noah in months. He hasn’t written anything for us in a couple of years. We usually only chat when he’s actually working. He’s a top client though and this is all coming as a terrible shock.”

  “Sure, I understand. I think that’s all for now. Look if you can stay available for the next few days, it might be necessary to--”

  “Of course, of course. You have my number, anything you need.”

  “Thank you and I’m sorry to interrupt your vacation.”

  “It’s no problem. Please tell Noah and his poor wife, well, I will try and phone myself.”

  “Sure I will pass along your well wishes.”

  He hit end and stared at the phone. Superpowers were neutralized over the phone, weren’t they? The guy sounded genuinely shocked and befuddled though. Oh well, he had done his due diligence. It was onto Tina now.

  ***

  Sullivan pulled his SUV into the waiting attendant and dropped his key to him without stopping.

  “Have this car waiting for me in exactly this spot in three hours and I’ll make it worth your while.”

  The kid nodded an emphatic affirmative as he tossed him his keys. “It’ll be here waiting, mister?”

  “Cranston, Lamont Cranston,” he said realizing the kid couldn’t possibly remember such a reference, as he disappeared into the lobby of the hotel.

  Running to the front desk he found his room number from the attendant and got on the elevator. It was one of those glass cylinders, clear all around and he could see all the way down as he climbed to the top floor. He pressed his face against the glass and rested. The honeymoon suite. He was going to need all his energy. He slid in his keycard and opened the door expectantly to a stunning 365 view of the skyline. The master bed was placed just under a smaller dome of clear glass, where the room’s master suite and bed lay. The room was dimly lit and he could see something lying on the bed. He knew what it was immediately. Shit. A note. Tina had gone. He walked to the bed and let out a long sigh, running his hands through his hair in frustration.