by J. G. Jurado
“I’ve already told you.”
“Tell me again.”
“I went to see a patient’s relatives, I ate something, then came back to my consulting room.”
“Oh yeah? Well, it just so happens that at that very time Dr. Hockstetter, who only yesterday was chosen to replace you in the operation, was mugged in a garage. His assailant broke his fingers in a car door.”
I could just about turn my head enough to see his face. We were so close we could have kissed. His breath smelled of nicotine gum, his skin of the sweat of a caged animal.
“They told me it was an accident,” I said, trusting that the fear he instilled in me—and the pain—would be taken for surprise.
“That’s what they said, yes. A fluke. But in my line of work flukes don’t exist. And what can I tell you? You stand to gain a lot from this. That’s motive. And you were away from the hospital. That’s opportunity.”
I pressed my feet on the floor and tried to overcome the force leaning against me, to push back a fraction of an inch so I could breathe. My hospital clogs slipped over the carpeted floor. I shook them off and succeeded in backing up a little.
“Did the First Lady tell you I didn’t want to operate on him? That she had to ask me as a favor not once but twice? What kind of a half-assed motive is that, McKenna?”
He blinked a couple of times. It was clear he didn’t know. That comment seemed to unsettle him briefly, but then he counterattacked with the third element he needed to establish guilt. He had already constituted motive and opportunity. Now he needed the means.
“You have a gun, doctor?”
“What?”
“A gun. Do you have a gun?”
“No, I do not. I hate weapons, you prick. I’ve never held one in my life.”
Except for when I had one in my hand a few hours before. And for sure there would be gunpowder residue left on my skin, even though I had been wearing gloves when I wrestled with Hockstetter and the gun went off. And the gun was underneath the front seat of my car. And my voice was trembling with all the tension and pain in my chest.
I knew he didn’t believe me. That he would find out what I’d been up to from the very beginning. And I wouldn’t have the chance to beg for help from White, who would be listening in on the whole deal. By the time I had convinced them of what was going on, the rats would have devoured Julia.
Then I was saved by the bell.
His cell phone rang. He lumbered away from me to pick it up, and at last I was able to get my long-suffering rib away from the table’s edge.
“Special Agent McKenna.”
There followed a series of grunts and acknowledgments. I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. McKenna had walked over to the window, with his back to me, but the volume on his phone was turned up high enough that I could tell the voice on the other end of the line sounded hot and bothered.
“What? No shit. Who the hell’s in Ballistics now?”
There were more explanations and grunts. McKenna’s shoulders sank lower and lower the more the caller’s words torpedoed his pet theory.
He hung up without a word.
And then I got it.
The shot that had burst the car tire. The techs must have retrieved the bullet and put it in one of those fancy computers. During the trial that brought me to death row, I would learn that the metropolitan PD had checked the bullet against their database. They found that my pistol matched one used in several assaults and two homicides. That is why Marcus had insisted I couldn’t be caught with it. Curiously, at the time, the gun’s shady record made it a red herring and cleared me.
But right then I knew none of that. And luckily McKenna, as good as he was, couldn’t see the link between my visit to Anacostia and the gun. Don’t be too harsh on him, because you have been following events from the start, and in chronological order, but he hadn’t been. In the gorilla’s favor, it must be said his instinct had turned him against me from the first, and rightly so. But then, in the end, when he had the final piece of the puzzle in his hand, he got muddled and goofed. He was human and fallible, as were all of us who danced to the tune of that particular nightmare.
He didn’t turn around. He simply said:
“You can go now, doc.”
I couldn’t.
I knew what I had done, and I knew the link between Jamaal Carter, the gun and me existed. And that maybe in a short while McKenna would be clearheaded enough to make the same connection. I couldn’t afford to let him make it. I had to clip his wings, so he wouldn’t dare grill me again.
I put my clogs back on, slowly. I stood up and gritted my teeth in pain, and on my way across to the window I could visualize the couple of Vicodins I would lift from the pharmacy as soon as I could get out of that dreadful meeting room.
“I’m going nowhere.”
“Pardon me?”
McKenna turned around, rattled. The adrenaline coursing through his veins during the phone call had put his nerves on edge. Gone was the long arm of the law that had terrified me a couple of minutes ago. Now his skin was sallow, the color had drained from his cheeks and two hammocks hung below his eyes.
Even so, he still posed a big risk. And if he had a cup of coffee or took a half hour’s nap, he’d tie up all the loose ends. There was only one way to forestall him.
“I’ve said I’m going nowhere, you shithead of a bully. I’m going nowhere until you apologize.”
McKenna snorted in disbelief. In a more evolved human being, that might have been taken for laughter.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I could ask you if I look like I’m kidding, but I doubt you could find your ass with both hands, so I don’t think you’re up to interpreting facial expressions. For some reason you took an instant dislike to me, which frankly I don’t give a shit about, because the feeling’s mutual. But what you’ve done is an abuse of authority. There are laws against that.”
“You’re going to report me? You threatening me, you cocky spoiled brat?”
“Spoiled brat my ass, you Irish potato-head. Listen, I come from the street, from a shit-heap probably just like the one you grew up in. And I’ve made it to be one of the best neurosurgeons in the world, all by myself, by working my ass off and eating enough shit to drown in. And from the onset of all this business the one and only condition I set was to be allowed to approach him plain and simple, as if he were a regular guy, without his apes or his office getting in the way. That’s why I was happy for them to take the case off me, even though it was palmed off onto the biggest ass licker ever to hold a scalpel. And if you don’t apologize right now, I’m going to have to explain to the First Lady why the best doctor there is, the one who can make the difference between her husband coming out with his head together or as a vegetable, won’t operate because you’ve slammed him into a table.”
McKenna didn’t answer. He gaped at me with his eyes wide open. His jaw was clenched and he was clearly dying to punch my head open.
Without looking away or blinking, I put my hand in my pocket, took out my cell, and showed him the display.
“Well? Will you call her, or shall I?”
I didn’t have the First Lady’s direct line. But he didn’t know that. He turned to look at the display and lowered his eyes.
“I apologize.”
“I apologize, what?”
McKenna ground his teeth so hard the windowpanes rumbled.
“I apologize, Dr. Evans.”
“Thank you. I will interpret your heavy-handedness as excessive zeal. As long as you don’t step out of line again, this will go no farther,” I said deferentially.
Maybe that was overdoing it, I don’t know. And maybe it prompted what came next.
I turned to go and walked toward the door. Slowly, no looking back, and no stopping. But halfway there the ag
ent’s voice stopped me in my tracks with a parting shot.
“To prevent you having any mishaps like Hockstetter did, I’ll detail a couple of agents to keep watch over you until tomorrow.”
The elation I had felt upon browbeating McKenna expired.
Yes, I had escaped by the skin of my teeth. But that same night I had to see White, and with a pair of agents shadowing my behind, that would be impossible.
Kate
It was a sleazy motel north of Catonsville, between a Taco Bell and a pizza parlor which looked like it had closed decades before. The motel had also seen better days. Half the neon lights on its sign had burned out, while the older black plastic lettering promised “BUDG T RO MS,” which nonetheless didn’t fail to get across the desired message quite plainly.
There were just five cars in the lot. Supposing that one or two belonged to the employees, that meant the motel had three or four guests. There were twenty rooms and they were all in a single-story building. The lights were on in two of them.
I won’t go asking around in reception, Kate thought. It’s brightly lit and the counter can be seen from every window. I might as well show up in a patrol car.
There would probably be a way out at the back of the building, maybe through the bathroom windows. She didn’t have the time or the inclination to run across an empty lot in the dark after a potentially armed suspect. But locating Vlatko in one of those twenty rooms was vital. If he was still in the motel, that is, and hadn’t merely stopped there to take a leak or get a drink from the soda machine.
She got out of the car, making sure the soles of her shoes made no noise on the concrete. She had parked on the opposite side of the lot from the reception desk, so she wouldn’t be lit up the moment she got out. She walked toward the room doors and when she was close to number twenty, she took out her cell and called Vlatko’s number.
It was a long shot. His phone might have been switched off or muted. But it was also her best chance to approach him without drawing too much attention to herself. And Kate knew one thing for certain: Vlatko would want to see Svetlana again, so he wouldn’t cut off his only communication channel.
She raised it to her ear.
I’ve got a ringtone. Good.
She lowered it to hear better. No sound came from room twenty, or from nineteen. She walked on and counted down the numbers. The phone kept ringing, but nobody answered.
Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen.
It went to voice mail.
Kate called again. There was light coming from room fourteen, so she stopped outside for a couple of seconds. Nothing.
Thirteen, twelve, eleven.
It went to voice mail again.
She called once more, and this time it didn’t ring so much as once. A hasty voice answered in Serbian.
“Svetlana?”
“Vlatko Papić?”
“Koga ste trebali?”
“Vlatko, I’m a friend of Svetlana’s. I need to talk to you.”
Silence.
“Vlatko?”
“You are lying. Svetlana has no friends.”
He hung up.
Kate looked back. All was quiet in room fourteen. In room nine, however, the lights were on. Kate walked toward it decidedly and knocked on the door.
“Vlatko, open up.”
Nobody answered. Kate heard the sound of bare feet and something falling on the floor.
“Don’t force me to break down the door, Vlatko. I’m from the police.”
The noise stopped. Kate thought she could spot the curtains moving out of the corner of her eye. The door opened slightly, with the chain in place. An eye peered through the gap.
“Show me your shield, or I won’t open.”
Kate tried not to smile at his innocence. That toy chain wouldn’t withstand half a kick, but even so Kate showed him her ID. The eye opened wide in astonishment.
“Secret Service? But—”
“Let me in and I’ll explain everything.”
The youngster closed the door, unhooked the chain and let Kate through.
She surveyed the room. He must have been living in it for days, judging by the number of take-out food cartons stacked up by the TV. He was not wearing anything apart from a towel wrapped around his waist, his body still covered in drops of water. He was diminutive and thin, with dark skin and sad eyes. Undressed, he looked even younger, almost like a teenager.
“I was in the shower, that’s why I didn’t hear the phone.”
“So I see,” Kate answered, spying a puddled trail on the floor.
“And Svetlana? Where is she?”
Kate grabbed a chair, turned it around, sat on it with her legs apart and leaned on the backrest with her forearms.
“Get some clothes on, Vlatko. I’ll explain right away.”
“But is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Go on.”
A couple of minutes later the kid appeared in a sweater and jeans. He sat on the edge of the bed and put on a pair of worn tennis shoes before he gave Kate a searching look.
“Svetlana’s gotten herself into trouble, Vlatko.”
“I knew it. I told her those people couldn’t be trusted. That it would all end in tears,” he said, fiddling with his wet hair.
“Did you know what was going on?”
“Didn’t Svetlana tell you?”
Kate could hear alarm in the boy’s voice. Here came the dilemma. She couldn’t interrogate him too closely on what he knew, because she was supposed to have Svetlana in safe custody. Nor could she force the guy to go with her. The success of her plan hinged entirely on his going with her voluntarily.
She had to wing it, praying she wouldn’t slip up.
“I need you to tell me in your own words.”
The kid seemed bright. He spoke grammatically perfect, almost accentless English.
“I’ve been over here for three years now. Svetlana and I were dating in Belgrade, but she couldn’t get a student visa. I thought I could finish off my industrial engineering degree here, but I couldn’t get a scholarship and everything in America is so expensive. I’d been doing odd jobs, trying to save up to help Svetlana come over. But she was getting more and more anxious.”
“So she decided to take a shortcut.”
“Those guys got in touch with her in Belgrade.”
“What guys? What do you know about them?”
“She told me they were ex-army and worked here in security now. But I knew that was false. They said they would give her a visa and fifty thousand dollars if she told them about some doctor or other. All she had to do was live in his house for a month. I told her not to do it, that the whole business stank.”
“But she didn’t listen.”
“She said it was precisely what we needed. That at last we could be together. After being five thousand miles apart, to suddenly be only an hour’s drive away seemed a heaven-sent opportunity.”
Kate nodded her head.
“Well, now she’s in big trouble.”
“Where is she? Under arrest?”
“I was just getting to that. Now tell me what happened on Tuesday.”
“She’d been worried for days. She told me to get ready to leave my apartment immediately if something should happen. I only know it was to be this Tuesday. We had arranged to meet up here as soon as she had the money.”
“But she told you to run for it.”
“She sent me a text. It simply said, ‘Run.’ I knew she was in a fix, but what could I do? I didn’t know where she was, and if I went to the police I would only land her in trouble.”
“You did the right thing, Vlatko. We’ve been wise to Svetlana and have safeguarded her all along. For all that, she did enter the country illegally.”
Vlatko blanched.
“Will you deport
her?”
“That depends on her. And you.”
“Tell me what I can do. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“We’ve given her a choice. Either she takes the stand against these people, or we put her on the first plane back to Belgrade.”
“You can’t do that. These people are dangerous! If she testifies, they will kill her. I’ll tell her not to do it.”
Kate straightened her jacket sleeves with deliberate indifference.
“Tell me something, Vlatko. What do you think will happen to Svetlana as soon as she lands, now that she’s failed these dangerous people?”
The boy’s jaw sagged. He closed his eyes and wheezed in despair.
“They will make mincemeat of her and throw her in the Danube.”
“So, you help us, and we get you both on board the witness protection program. Either that or she goes home on her own, where we can’t help her, and it’s lose-lose all around.”
Vlatko stood up and paced around the room a couple of times.
“What does she say?”
“That she wants to talk it over with you first. I need you to bring her around. So she knows what’s good for her.”
“Will you protect the two of us?”
Kate kept quiet, pretending to think the answer over. She needed to make it sound as believable as possible.
“Yes. It’s not usual, because you’re not married, but these people are big fish. It’ll be worth it.”
Vlatko nodded.
“Okay, then. Will you bring her?”
“She’s in a safe house now and will be until we can mobilize enough agents to secure her transfer. You’ll see her in the morning.”
“Do we wait for her here?”
“This place isn’t secure. Tonight you’ll go back to your apartment. There’s a couple of agents parked on the street outside. In any event, there’s nothing to worry about, they don’t have your address. You’ll be back together in the morning, we’ll take you to headquarters and you can talk her into it there.”
“Svetlana told me not to go back to my apartment.”
Kate shrugged.
“I can take you to HQ tonight, but you’ll have to sleep on the floor. Tomorrow you’ll be a real mess and your clothes will stink even more than they do already. Is that any way to meet up with your girl?”
