by Roy Johansen
Ah, but he did need it. His magnificent symphony was unfinished, and he needed to compose one final movement to bring it to fruition. It couldn't have gone better—his last-minute embellishments had only improved his masterpiece, surely the mark of a true artist. As if there was ever any doubt.
Even that brutish Russian with the gun couldn't bring himself to disturb such a perfect creation. Once the man had the information he desired, he went about his way.
Rakkan stroked the smooth back of the panther statue on the coffee table. No, there was no cause to grieve.
Not on the eve of his grand finale.
Councilman Talman is missing.” Joe gripped the cell phone harder. “What?”
Howe's voice was grim. “You heard me right. He didn't show up for work today, and he's missed all of his appointments. Apparently, that never happened before.”
Joe stood outside the hospital's side entrance. It was three-thirty P.M., and he'd phoned to give Howe an update on Carla's condition. Critical but stable.”Jesus, you don't think—”
“No idea. I'm about to head over to Talman's office.”
Joe thought for a second. “I'll meet you there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Wait outside for me.”
Joe cut the connection and walked back to the intensive care waiting room. Christ.
He'd spent all day with his father at the hospital, save for the few minutes it had taken to pick up Nikki. Despite his father's warning, Nikki had insisted on coming to the hospital after school. It had been a miserable night for her. He'd broken the news to her after they returned home, and she'd cried on and off for hours.”Why?” she repeated.”Why did it happen?”
If only he knew. Nikki had known too much tragedy in her young life. None of it could ever make sense to anyone, much less an eleven-year-old girl.
Joe walked into the waiting room. Nikki was putting up a brave front, trying to cheer up her grandfather with a story about her triumph in choir class. What an amazing kid.
“Guys, I have to take off for a little while. Will you be okay without me?”
Concern etched Nikki's face, but she said nothing.
Cal nodded.”Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, there's just something I need to check on.”
Nikki obviously knew something was up. “When will you be back?”
Joe kissed her on the forehead.”Soon.”
She hugged him close and whispered into his ear. “Be careful.”
Joe met Howe outside Talman's Colony Square office building, and together they went in and pelted the councilman's attractive young assistant with the usual missing-person questions. Talman's schedule was packed with appointments, yet he hadn't called to cancel. He was unreachable by phone, fax, or pager, and the assistant had even driven to his house and found his car missing and home empty. The last time anyone had seen him was at ten the previous evening, when he'd left a social gathering at a Peachtree City restaurant.
The secretary escorted them into Talman's cherry-wood-paneled office. “It's totally unlike him to just drop out of sight like this,” she said. “I know you're supposed to wait twenty-four hours for a missing person's case, but I was worried. You know, with these terrible murders. He fits the profile of the victims, doesn't he? Well known and all?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Joe said. He glanced around the office and examined a group of tiny origami figures resting on the edge of Talman's desk. “Did he make these himself?”
The secretary stared at them. “I don't know. I've— never noticed those before.”
“Look around,” Howe said. “See anything else different, or maybe something missing?”
She moved around the office, inspecting each wall and piece of furniture. “I don't think so. Everything else looks the same.” She gestured toward the origami figures. “Somebody could have given him those. He gets gifts all the time.”
Joe took out his pocket digital camera and snapped a few quick shots of the office.
Howe turned toward the secretary. “How did you know his house was deserted? Do you have keys?”
She nodded.”I run errands for him sometimes, and he occasionally has me get things for him there.”
“Does anybody else have a set?”
“I don't think so. He's divorced.”
“It might be helpful if you took us to his house and let us look around,” Joe said. “I know it's getting late, but would you be willing to do that?”
Her only response was to reach into her purse and pull out a set of keys.
They followed her to Talman's large Northside Drive home. It was a two-story colonial, hidden from the street by clusters of oak trees.
Joe turned toward the secretary as they walked through the front door.”Keep your eyes open for anything unusual, anything that may have changed.”
They went to the kitchen, where Howe logged the answering machine messages. Nothing notable.
They moved through each room, looking for some sign of a struggle. There was none. They finished their tour in Talman's upstairs study.
“Okay,” Howe said, “are we absolutely sure there are no girlfriends, boyfriends, love nests, vacation homes, or whatnot? This isn't the time to try to protect your boss from negative publicity.”
The secretary shook her head.
“It's the 'whatnot'we really need to find out,” Joe said as he raised his digital camera and took a shot of the study.”Think about anyplace that he—”Joe froze.
Howe picked up on his startled reaction.”Bailey?”
Joe turned to the secretary. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”
She furrowed her brow.”Well, I—I let you in here, so I think that I really should stay and—”
“We won't touch a thing.” Joe led her to the door. “We just need to discuss some police business. Thanks for understanding.”
The “police business” line usually worked won-ders, and Joe was relieved that it did in this case too. The secretary nodded and left the room.
Howe spoke quietly.”What is it?”
Joe pointed to a small sculpture on a wood pedestal. “Look at that.”
Howe examined it. “Is that a—”
“A panther,” Joe said.”Mean anything to you?”
Howe nodded. “Rakkan's original form in the legend.”
“Am I reaching?”
“Don't underestimate the value of a long reach.”
As Joe stared at the sculpture, something occurred to him. He pulled out his digital camera and cycled through his shots on the back-panel LCD screen. “Shit,” he whispered.
“What?”
Joe held up the camera. “Look at the origami figures from his office.”
Howe looked at a few of the photos. “I'm afraid you're going to have to help me with this one.”
“Those figures represent the various forms that Rakkan adopts in the last town—a horse, a cloud, a whale, a pushcart, a dog, and a tree.”
Howe squinted at the screen. “Kind of a bizarre-looking cloud, but I think you're right.”
“You have to be looking for them, but they're there. Look.” Joe displayed each of the pictures. “They match with the guises in the legend.”
Howe looked dazed as he pulled out his cell phone. “Jesus.”
Thirty-five minutes later, Joe floored his accelerator and turned onto a small access road. Moments after Howe's call to Henderson, the captain had dispatched manpower to each of Talman's usual haunts. Joe and Howe were heading to Talman's dinner cruise boat, the Carlotta, at its dock on Lake Lanier. Joe drove while Howe talked to Henderson.
Howe cut the connection. “Okay, officially, we're doing this because of the department's concern for the councilman's well-being.”
“And unofficially?”Joe asked.
“We're taking him in for questioning. Forensics is going over his house and office. It's incredible…. Talman may be our killer.” Howe turned to Joe. “How long has it been since you've been on a sta
keout, Bunco Boy?”
Joe frowned.”It doesn't seem right.”
“What doesn't?”
“Why would Talman just leave those things lying around?”
Howe shook his head. “It may have given him a thrill. You know, a whiff of danger. Some serial killers get bored after they do it a few times. It doesn't give them the same charge, and they need to ratchet up the intensity.”
Joe sped down the access road toward the lake. The sun had set behind the forest of tall pines, and lights from the cabins and houses dotted the surrounding hillsides.
Howe looked ahead.”The Carlottadoesn't do dinner cruises on weeknights, does it?”
Joe shook his head.”No. Why?”
“Because it's not here.”
Joe and Howe climbed out of the car and stared into the darkness. “It's the biggest thing on the lake,” Howe said.”Shouldn't we see it?”
Joe nodded.”Unless it's running without lights.”
Howe glanced around the empty parking lot. “I don't like this.”
“Me neither.” Joe gestured toward the dock, where several small motorboats were moored. “Let's go find it.”
They quickly surveyed the crafts before climbing into the only one without a lock. The small open boat reeked of dead fish and marijuana. Joe started the engine in three yanks of the ripcord, and they set out for the middle of the lake.
Howe turned on a battery lantern and aimed it into the void ahead. “Kind of a lame getaway, if that's what this is. We're landlocked, and once daylight hits, that boat is about as inconspicuous as an elephant in a broom closet.”
“It's not a getaway,” Joe said, staring at the cloud-like mist before them. “It's the end of the legend.”
“What?” Howe asked.
“Unable to find a worthy man, Rakkan finally destroys himself in a magnificent funeral pyre in the Yellow Sea.”
Howe pulled his jacket closer around him. “It's a nice ending, Bailey, but serial killers are rarely so obliging.”
Joe moved the tiller.”See anything?”
Howe shook his head. “No, and the fog isn't helping. We're in serious danger of running into something. Looks like we got a full moon on our side, but it's no good to us in this fog.”
Joe reacted with a start. “A full moon.”
“Yeah. Don't tell me you're choosing this moment to get superstitious.”
“No.” Joe thought for a moment, then pointed ahead. “What's that?”
Howe aimed the lantern to reveal a large white hull three hundred yards away. It appeared to be dead in the water, drifting without engines or running lights.
“It's the Carlotta,”Joe said.”I'll take us closer.”
He steered toward the bow. Twenty yards away, he cut the motor. “Turn off your lantern,” he whispered.
Howe switched off the light, and they sat still as waves lapped around them. No sign of movement on the Carlotta.Joe picked up an oar and sculled the boat around to the port side. He almost collided with a small powerboat tied to a deck cleat.A rope ladder dangled from the Carlotta'slower railing.
Joe pointed to the rope ladder, and Howe nodded. They moved alongside. Joe held the ladder while Howe grabbed the lower rungs and pulled himself up.
Howe stood on the deck and leaned over the railing. “Just like being back at the academy,” he whispered. “Never thought I'd actually have to climb one of these—”
Boom.
The Carlottaexploded in a thunderous roar and a blinding flash of light.
Joe gripped the ladder as shock waves almost capsized his motorboat. He closed his eyes.
Let go, he told himself.
He couldn't. Not while Howe was up there.
Fiery splinters and debris rained down on him. His skin burned. His ears throbbed.
A low moan, and a splash in the water next to him.
Joe opened his eyes and peered into the dark water. Howe was motionless, lying face-up. Chunks of burning wreckage floated around him.
Joe looked up. The upper deck was on fire.
He jumped into the water. Holy shit. Fire and oil all around. Where in hell was Howe? Just five seconds before, he was—
Howe broke the surface and grabbed his arm. Joe lifted his head up.”It's okay. Relax.”
Howe squinted up at the burning boat.”Jesus. Like a truck ramming into my back. I'm numb. I can hardly move.”
“I've got you.”
Joe looped his arm under Howe's armpit and swam back to the motorboat. Howe squinted up at the burning deck. “We were too late. Talman finished his tapestry.”
Joe handed Howe a mooring rope and climbed into the motorboat. He leaned over and pulled Howe aboard.
“You're bleeding,” Howe said.
Joe felt the cold stickiness at his forehead. “Glass from the windows. I'll be okay. You just lie back and we'll—”
A scream.
Deep within the bowels of the Carlotta.
Joe grabbed the rope ladder and turned uncertainly back toward Howe.
Howe squinted at him.”You're not seriously thinking of going in there, are you?”
“That depends on you. How bad are you hurt?”
“I'll be fine. But, Bailey—”
Joe climbed the ladder.”Call for backup!”
“Bailey!”
Joe threw his legs over the railing and ran past the smoke billowing from the downstairs dining room. The fire was confined to the aft section of the boat, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it spread.
Where had the scream come from?
Below. Somewhere below.
Joe drew his gun and bolted down the stairway. He peered through the glass doors of the cigar lounge. Empty.
Crew quarters. Galley. Bathrooms. All deserted.
He turned down a narrow hallway and almost stumbled over something. A body.
Joe knelt over him. Christ. Edward Talman dead, his chest oozing blood.
Footsteps pounded on the deck above.
Joe stood and ran for the stairs. He pulled himself up, listening as the roaring flames grew louder.
The earsplitting fire alarm kicked in. About damned time. Half the boat's gone, and nowthe alarm sounds?
The footsteps again, coming toward him. Of course. The other way could only lead into the fire. He held up his gun.
Joe stepped from the stairway and a gunshot whistled past his head. He ducked behind a wood-paneled arch and stared into the decorative mirrors over the bar. There, reflected hundreds of times in the myriad designs, he saw the server's station on the other side of the archway. A man stood there, holding a handgun.
“Only one way out,”Joe shouted.”It's over, Roth.”
Barry Roth flattened himself in the server's station. He stared at Joe in the same mirrors. “It's getting warm, isn't it, Mr. Bailey?”
“You want to step outside and cool off?”
“You first.”
“You didn't come here to kill yourself, Roth. Even if that's what the real Rakkan did.”
“You've made the connection. I'm impressed.”
“Kind of hard to miss after you carved the name into my dining room table.”
“There's no evidence that I did that.”
“Or of rigging Monica Gaines's robe to ignite?”
“Again, no proof.”
“Then how did you know what was in the sketches in her closet?”
“What are you talking about?”
Joe steadied himself as the Carlottalisted.”On the television show, you gave us Monica's impressions of Ernest Franklin's murder scene. You said there was a full moon, but there wasn't. The only full moon was in Monica's preliminary sketch. She didn't show it to anybody, but you saw it, didn't you? You saw it in her closet when you were rigging her robe.”
“That means nothing.”
“Not by itself, but what if I looked in that file of your so-called triumphs? How many of those murders would fit the pattern of Rakkan's killings? I'd imagine it would be v
ery easy to help the police on murders that you committed yourself. The only trick would be in not giving away too much information, right?”
“The fire's spreading belowdecks, Detective.”
“You thought you'd be long gone by now, didn't you? But you saw us climbing aboard and you decided to set off the charges early and blow us to pieces. You figured you could still finish off Talman and make your escape before the boat burned itself out, am I right?”
Roth didn't reply.
“Forget it,” Joe said. “My partner has already called for backup. The lake will be surrounded.”
“It's a big lake.”
Joe looked down. Smoke snaked up between the floorboards.”Time's running out. Let's get the hell out of here.” Joe strained to see through the smoke. “You failed, Roth. You didn't have the guts to finish it right.”
“Shut up!”
He'd hit a nerve. Good. “Face it, if you had the courage to destroy yourself the way Rakkan did, you would have already succeeded. Instead, you tried to frame someone else and let him die for it. You planted the panther sculpture and those origami figures.”
“I didn't fail.”
Joe raised his gun. Roth was still protective of his grand tapestry. “You knew I'd unravel your pathetic little scheme. You knew I'd expose you for the fraud that you are. You wanted to scare me off and thought you could use the memory of my wife to do it. It didn't work. You're an amateur, Roth.”
“Fuck you!” Roth fired twice at the wall between them. The wood panel splintered, but the bullets didn't penetrate.
Joe grabbed a railing to steady himself as the decks whined and groaned. He could keep pushing Roth's buttons, but it wouldn't do him any good if the boat went down with them inside. Black smoke poured from the vents. The alarms were almost deafening.
“Throw down your gun and let's get out of here!”
The aft deck collapsed. Burning cinders flew, and the entire boat shook.
Joe glimpsed the fireworks show through the bar's rear windows.”The fuel tank is next, Roth.”
The windows blew out, and bottles of alcohol lining the bar exploded.
Three shots rang out, shattering the mirrors across from them. Joe ducked as another bullet whizzed past him.
