The Judas Heart

by Ingrid Black

  One time, I recalled, we’d been swapping ghost stories, late at night with a beer and a cigar, and I’d make the mistake of telling JJ about something which happened to me as a child. The incident itself had stayed with me since childhood, the kind of thing you find yourself remembering in unexpected moments, or revisiting in dreams.

  I must have been eight, nine, something like that. I’d been playing hide and seek with friends in a broken-down rooming house at the end of the street in Boston where I lived with my mother and brother and sister - my father had never been around much in those days, or any days come to that, and I can’t say I’d ever missed him much - and I’d seen a little girl like myself, dark-eyed and sad, sitting on a chair in an empty room where wallpaper was peeling from the walls and foul water was dripping from a leak in an overhead pipe and making a large pool at her feet. She’d stared at me and smiled and held out her hand, as if for help.

  When I walked towards her, she vanished.

  I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast.

  My friends all laughed, and said I was crazy, said I was seeing things. Maybe I was. All I know is that I never dared go back there to play again – and neither did they.

  Years later, I tried to find out whether anything had ever happened in that house, whether what I’d seen was a trace of something bad that had happened there long ago, but of course there was nothing of the sort. It was just a regular house on a regular street in Boston. I don’t know what I expected. To learn that the house had been built on the site of an old Native American burial ground or something, I guess.

  Like I say, sometimes I think I’ve watched too many movies.

  The last time I was home briefly, I saw they’d pulled the house down, and nothing had been put up in its place. I saw my mother shuffling to the corner store in her slippers too, though I didn’t approach or stop to say hello. I hadn’t come to see her.

  That was an ordeal I tried to avoid as much as possible.

  Kaminski, needless to say, had found the whole incident in the house when I was a kid hilarious. Serves me right for telling him about it. Next day he and another friend of his in the Bureau by the name of Lucas Piper had made up a mock old-style black and white Hollywood cinema poster with my picture on it and the words Saxon Is Back As... Claire Voyant - The Girl Who Saw Ghosts written along the bottom like the title of a movie. Then they’d posted it onto the wall of the office above my desk where I couldn’t miss it. Nor could anyone else. Boys will be boys.

  I smiled now, remembering it, as I made my way to the fridge for another beer. Being in the FBI had taken its toll, but there were happier moments too. I shouldn’t forget that.

  And then I stopped, feeling foolish.

  Of course, why hadn’t I thought of it before?

  Lucas Piper had been Kaminski’s closest friend in the Bureau. Perhaps his only true friend, the only one who penetrated the surface and got to meet the real Kaminski underneath.

  I know I certainly never had.

  The two men had grown up together in Ohio, though Piper’s family was as blue collar as Kaminski’s was trying desperately to be white bread. Half Piper’s folks worked in the steel mills. The other half didn’t work at all. Despite all that, they were inseparable at high school, went on to the same college, joined the Academy at the same time. They’d double dated, gone on skiing holidays each winter, even shared an apartment together for a while. They were nicknamed the Siamese Twins and some people even used to joke that they should get married and be done with it. If anyone knew what JJ was doing in Dublin, it would be Piper.

  Though whether he chose to tell me was another matter. I’d never got on as well with Piper as I had with Kaminski.

  Never got on with Piper much at all, truth be told.

  I’m not saying he had a problem with women, but he was always competitive with me. Like he felt threatened. He once admitted that he thought I’d only got where I was because I was a woman, which would’ve made me laugh if it hadn’t been so ridiculous.

  Then as now, the Bureau had certainly been pulling out the stops to get more women to apply, but once they applied was another matter. There were still more than enough of the old guard at the training academy who considered it a personal failure if they gave a woman an easy time. You simply didn’t make it through an intensive course mastering a range of disciplines from behavioural science to criminal law to firearms tuition, on some kind of half-baked politically correct favouritism. So much as even fall short on the two mile sprint and the push ups, and you were out. Gender didn’t come into it.

  Piper’s kneejerk hostility had eased over time, but he’d never truly accepted my right to be there. No matter how many cases I worked, he never stopped insinuating behind my back that I was only where I was because I’d got on my back for the right people at the right time. He made it clear I’d never be his equal in his eyes.

  That never bothered me particularly, since I didn’t like the way the world looked from his eyes anyway. But right now it left me with a potential problem.

  Would Piper talk to me?

  I’d just have to call him and see what happened.

  I snatched up my cellphone and tapped in the number of his office in New Jersey. I knew I didn’t have to worry about the time, since they were five hours behind Dublin time there. The night was still young. I just hoped that, after all this trouble, he hadn’t changed his number.

  Or blocked mine.

  He hadn’t done either. The phone rang briefly, and then there was a series of clicks as the call was transferred to wherever he was - out in the field on another case, I guessed; Piper was always obsessive about people knowing where he was, and set up endless diversions to hide his trail.

  Then Piper answered.

  I recognised his deep, rich, slightly sardonic voice at once, though I hadn’t been prepared for what he was going to say.

  “You’re late,” he said.

  Chapter Four

  “That’s a nice way to greet an old friend, I must say,” I remarked when an awkward pause made it clear that I wasn’t exactly who he’d been expecting to hear from.

  “I’m sorry, I was waiting for a call from someone else,” he answered eventually, gruffly, pointlessly. I’d figured that much out for myself. “Who is this, anyway?”

  “It’s Saxon,” I said.

  There was another uncomfortably long silence.

  “You remember me, don’t you, Piper?”

  “Oh, I remember you alright, Saxon. How could anyone forget you?”

  “I’m a hard woman to forget.”

  “You’re a hard woman, period,” Piper said. “What you calling for? Old times sake?”

  “In a way. How are things at the FBI?”

  “You want to know that, you’ll have to talk to someone in the FBI.”

  “I thought that’s what I was doing,” I said.

  “Not me, sister. Not anymore. You know that old proverb about what to do when you’re in a hole? Well, I stopped digging.”

  “So what’re you at now?”

  “I set up my own company. Surveillance. Phone tapping. That kind of thing.”

  That fit. Piper had always been a bit of a communications boffin. Hence the diverts. His house had been like something out of an electronics catalogue. Closed circuit TV in every room. Switches everywhere. He was obsessed by security. Never felt safe.

  Some people thought he was paranoid, but then paranoid is arguably a good thing to be when you’re a Special Agent. He’d even hooked up some kind of system which meant he could phone home and turn on his lights in New Jersey even if he was in Nebraska, Europe, wherever.

  Why he’d want to turn his lights on in New Jersey if he was in Nebraska’s another matter. I guess geniuses don’t get where they are without thinking outside the box.

  “Best decision I ever made,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I got tired of being passed over for promotion. Every other agent seemed to be going place
s whilst I was running faster than ever to stay in the same place.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “It’s the curse of service. Besides, you know what the pay’s like. Sucks. Now I’m bringing in more money than I know what to do with. Guess that makes two of us, huh?” He laughed, but there was no pleasure in it. It was more like a cough or a sneeze, just a sound his body gave out to release pressure. “You going to tell me what you want from me?”

  He sounded suspicious.

  I can’t say I blamed him. It had been a long time.

  “I’m looking for a number,” I said. “For Kaminski.”

  The silence this third time went on even longer.

  “I can’t help you,” was the answer that came at last. “I haven’t spoken to Kaminski in over a year. Last time I tried to call him, he’d changed his number. I don’t have his new one. I’m sorry.”

  Not as sorry as I was. Piper had been the one person I was sure would know what was happening with Kaminski. Now it turned out he knew as little as I did.

  Nevertheless, I pressed on.

  “Do you at least know what field office he’s working out of these days?”

  “Listen, Saxon, you’ve been out of the loop a long time...”

  “I’m only asking for a number, Piper,” I said testily. “I’m not looking for the low down on all the Bureau’s secrets. I won’t even tell him it came from you if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “It’s not that,” Piper said. “Kaminski’s not with the FBI anymore either.”

  “JJ quit?”

  I couldn’t have been more astonished if he’d told me Kaminski had taken a vow of celibacy. He’d had FBI sewn into his soul the way a kid on his first day in school has his name sewn on the inside of his jacket. He was wedded to the FBI the way a nun’s wedded to Jesus. The idea of him leaving it was like John Paul Getty announcing he’d had enough of being rich and was giving it up for, well, a trailer park in North Carolina.

  “What happened?” I said.

  “It’s a long story. He went a bit, how shall I put this, loco. His wife died.”

  “I didn’t even know he was married.”

  “You do now. She was abducted after visiting some store not far from where they lived. Her body was found later. Strangled. They’d only been married a couple of months.”

  Suddenly it didn’t look so inexplicable that JJ looked frazzled.

  “They ever find who did it?”

  “No. That was the problem. Kaminski was convinced he knew who’d killed her. He wanted the Bureau to go after the guy. They thought he was losing it. Getting unstable. It was suggested gently that he take a break from work to help him get over his wife’s death. Instead he handed in his shield and walked. That was the last anyone saw of him. I don’t know what he’s done since. I tried calling a couple of times, but he never returned my calls.”

  “So where’d he go? Where’s he now?”

  “No idea.”

  “You haven’t been able to find him?” I said. “That’s not like you. What happened to the man who could find the proverbial needle in any field of haystacks?”

  “I didn’t try to find him,” retorted Piper, bridling at the implied criticism.

  “You didn’t?”

  “I was out of the loop myself by that point. I didn’t have the resources. And in addition,” he sounded more reluctant now, as if he didn’t know whether he ought to be saying what he was saying at all, “we’d not been getting along so well before it happened. Things had changed. And after it happened...” He left the sentence unfinished.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You told him the same as the FBI.”

  “More or less. I hadn’t seen him for months, out of the blue he shows up and wants my help tracking down his wife’s killer. I told him he needed to take it easy. That he was heading for a breakdown. Let’s just say it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.”

  “And that was the last you saw of him?”

  “That was the last anyone saw of him,” said Piper. “Soon after, he disappeared.”

  “Like last time.”

  “Exactly like last time, only this time I don’t think he intends coming back. I know Kaminski better than anyone. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.”

  “You found him in North Carolina.”

  “That’s my point. The only reason I found him then was because he was ready to be found. This time, it’s different. This time I think he’s gone for good.” He stopped abruptly, as if the thought had only then occurred to him. “Why do you want to speak to him, anyway?”

  I wondered what he’d say if I told him I’d seen JJ that afternoon in Dublin, but decided I’d have to go on wondering because I wasn’t going to tell him.

  I don’t know what held me back. Maybe it was what Piper said about Kaminski wanting to be lost. That afternoon, he had run away. Maybe he didn’t want to be found.

  “It’s nothing,” I said carelessly instead, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious to Piper I was lying. He’d always been perceptive when it came to picking up on all those signs a speaker unwittingly gave away when they were being evasive. I trusted in the fact he could only hear my voice, and all the non-verbal clues I was probably giving off right now were only being transmitted to my empty apartment. “I wanted to ask him about a case we worked on together years ago. There were a few details I’d forgotten that I needed to clear up.”

  Piper gave no indication that he thought my answer was incomplete.

  “You’re not writing another book, are you?” was all he said.

  “What else is there to do these days?”

  He laughed the same hollow laugh. “Speak for yourself, Saxon. I have plenty of things to be doing with my time these days. Life is good.”

  “You don’t miss it?”

  “The FBI? Are you kidding me? That’s like asking a guy who’s just found out his VD’s cleared up whether he misses the itch. You saying you do?”

  “Every minute of every day,” I said before I could stop myself.

  If bafflement could communicate itself down a phone line, Piper’s did right then.

  “What’s to miss?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “The feeling that you’re making a difference. That you’re not just standing by and handing the keys of the world to the bad guys.”

  “Last time I looked, there were still bad guys everywhere.”

  “All the more reason to stick at it,” I said.

  “I stuck at it long enough,” he said. “I gave the Bureau twenty years. Now all I want is for whatever time I got left on this earth to be mine. That’s not much to ask, is it?”

  “It isn’t.”

  “But listen,” he went on unexpectedly. “Since it’s you, I’ll do you a favour. I’ll make some calls, ask about Kaminski, see if anyone’s heard from him recently.”

  “You will? That’d be great.”

  “I’m not promising anything,” said Piper. “These days I’m nothing but a civilian with a business to run, remember? It may take a little time.”

  “Whatever you can get for me,” I said, “I’d appreciate it. Just call me on this number. I’m still in Dublin. Now I’ll get the hell out of your ear. Leave the line free for that other call you’re waiting for. I’m probably keeping you from something more interesting.”

  “You are, since you mention it.”

  “What can I say? My timing always was lousy.”

  “At least some things never change,” said Piper, as he took down my number. “That’s almost reassuring. Nothing else stays the same. All it does is get older. But hey, enough of my problems. I’ll talk to you again when I have something. Good night.”

  “Good night,” I said, and felt happier as I replaced the phone. Piper had said: “I’ll talk to you when I have something.”

  Not if, but when. His self-belief hadn’t changed either. Unless... the thought struck me at that exact moment... unless he already knew where JJ was. U
nless they were in this - whatever this was - together. Promising to call me back might’ve simply been a way of playing for time.

  I groaned. It was too late for figuring through all the possible permutations of a situation. Sometimes you had to stop thinking so much and leave things to work themselves out. And with that piece of fortune cookie wisdom, I locked up and made my way to bed.

  Lying in the dark, I found my mind coming full circle back to earlier that evening when I’d been sitting at my window, looking out at the city, wondering where JJ was.

  Lives unravel so easily. He had everything, and then it comes to pieces in his hands for a murder that most likely didn’t merit more than a couple of seconds on the local news. For that, JJ’s life turns 180 degrees in an instant and he’s looking in entirely a different direction than before.

  Instead of looking into the future, he’s trapped in the past.

  Everything stops.

  But I still wanted to know what he was doing here in Dublin, and I had a couple of places I knew I could start. I was tired, but also impatient to begin. I checked the clock. It was after 2am. Piper had been right, without knowing it, when he said: “You’re late.”

  I really needed to start getting some early nights.

  Chapter Five

  The phone rang early next morning, waking me up. Still half-asleep, I snatched at it, anxious to know if it was Lucas Piper ringing back with information about Kaminski, though I didn’t for one moment believe he could’ve got anything for me that quickly. What’s more, it would now be the middle of the night in New Jersey. Lucky New Jersey.

  I’d had a restless sleep. The heat had made me uncomfortable. Even kicking off the sheets hadn’t helped.

  The caller, though, was Fitzgerald, and I had to suppress a faint disloyal feeling of disappointment as I lay back against the pillow.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “No,” I said. “I mean, yes, but it doesn’t matter. You know me, I’m always up with the lark, eager to throw myself into the joy of another Monday morning. How’s it going?”