Jack the Stripper

by Jennifer Macaire

  “Are you all right?” She frowned. “You look paler than usual.”

  “I’m fine,” said Jack. He swallowed, wishing he could get the strange taste out of his mouth.

  “It’s the light here,” May said. “It leaches the color out of everything.” She nodded at the wall. “What do you see, Brianna?”

  Brianna hesitated, and then said, “I can see that the attack came from the front. The first cut made this spray of blood here.” She pointed to a photo. “Afterwards there are a few drops, then a huge gout of blood here.” She indicated another photo. “The girl took one step, then another, stepping in her own blood with her left foot. She fell and didn’t move from there until her friend shook her, moving her torso about thirty degrees from where she was before. In other words …” She paused and looked at May. “The Heart Taker operated while she was still standing.”

  “Operated.” May nodded, a smile on her face. “Jeffrey told me you were good. Excellent. Excellent. And you, Jack. What can you tell me?”

  Jack took a deep breath. “All I know is the Heart Taker is taking the hearts in order to use them for a purpose. So now we know that he cuts them out with precision. Where did he learn to do that? Was he a surgeon? Is it easy or hard to cut a heart out of someone’s chest without damaging the heart?”

  “How long, if he worked in real time, do you think it would take?” May jotted something on her clipboard.

  Jack shook his head. “If you stop time, you can take as long as you want. For him, it can be an hour, two hours. It makes no difference. It depends on his strength. To hold time in place take immense concentration. My theory is that he exists in a different time frame than we do so he doesn’t have to think about it. I don’t know if he ever slows down and enters our time.”

  “But that makes him impossible to catch.” Brianna looked worried.

  Jack had been thinking about that. “That might work in our favor. You have to understand that there are some things he cannot do. He cannot occupy the same space as another person. He is controlled by the same laws of physics as we are, only on a faster level. Moving so fast makes him more fragile than we are, because his molecules are held together more loosely. When I touched him I was surprised by that feeling, so I let go. If I wanted to, I could have crushed him with my grip. He has to be careful not to bump into anything, and my guess is he avoids crowds unless he absolutely has to enter one.”

  “What I’d like to know is was he born, or was he made?” Brianna wondered aloud.

  “I’d rather know where he is now and if we can catch him before he kills someone else.” Jack rubbed his head and looked at May. “I don’t know much about police work yet, but I’d like to talk to a surgeon, preferably a heart specialist. Can I just walk into any hospital and flash my moosie badge around, and get an interview?”

  May raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been watching too many movies. You have to call first. That way you don’t waste your time.”

  “Why don’t you do that, and I can go back to the crime scene and see if we missed something.” Brianna was about to leave, but Jack caught her arm.

  “No. I don’t want you five inches away from me until we catch the Heart Taker. Is that clear?”

  “He got his Halloween victim.” Brianna’s eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown.

  “But her heart was broken,” Jack said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Heart Surgeon

  They went back to their office and sorted the files out. Then Brianna called the main hospital to find a heart surgeon. It didn’t take long to find a surgeon willing to talk to them, and soon Jack and Brianna were out of the huge building and back on street level, in the fresh air. Brianna took a deep breath. It was full of pollution but better than the canned air that circulated in the over-bright, too cold underground building. She hated being in a place without windows. She was already missing being in her office overlooking the river. Except her office was now Mamie Hoya’s room. She wondered briefly if her decisions had been the right ones. She’d gone from independent bodyguard back to working for the system. She glanced behind her at the construction site, now busy with a crane, bulldozers, and yellow-helmeted workers—all fake. What kind of system was she working for anyway? One that didn’t exist, like Area Fifty One, or rather, it existed only in deep secrecy. The crossed the street and headed toward a taxi stand.

  “Hey, you wanna shoe shine?” The kid on the corner was whip thin with the hungry, hopeful look Brianna recognized from the slums. His carrot-colored hair was cut ragged, his sweater was stained, and his jeans looked like they’d been handed down at least three times.

  She checked her watch. They had time. “Sure.” She put her foot on the wooden shoeshine box and marveled at the old wood and polished brass. “That looks old.”

  “Was my dad’s. He used to work at the race track back in the seventies.” The kid shrugged his skinny shoulders and got to work, rubbing polish into the leather loafer, whistling. He looked up and squinted at her. “Gotta let it dry a few minutes. So, you work in the secret base there?”

  Jack gaped, and Brianna figured her mouth was probably hanging open as well. “What secret base?” she managed to ask, trying for polite interest.

  “Well, it’s top secret, so everyone knows about it. Everyone in the trailer park anyhow. It backs up to the park on one side, so we can see what’s going on.” The kid checked the polish with the tip of his finger. “Almost ready.”

  “What’s going on in the secret base then?” Jack had a big grin.

  “Nothing. That’s why it has to be a secret base. I never seen a construction site so quiet, no one swearing, no junk lying around, and no big holes anywhere. Usually you start by digging, see. Well, sources say they dug for years and then filled it all back up. Trucks were driving past day and night full of dirt and rocks. I remember because we just got relocated to the park and I seen it all.”

  Fighting the urge to correct his English, Brianna simply said, “How long have you been in the park?”

  “Since just after the hurricane flooded our house.” The kid shrugged again. He started to brush the shoe, frowning in concentration. “I lost everything I had. All my clothes, my toys, and my game cube.” A sigh now. “Well, put the other foot up here.”

  Brianna obeyed. “Nice job,” she said.

  “I get a lot of rubber-soles here, like your loafers. Shoes that look nice but that you can run fast in. And sometimes the shoes look like they’ve been through a lot. Yours aren’t too bad. Scuffed.” The boy tilted his head and gave a professional flick with his cloth. “The folks coming out of that site don’t look like construction workers, and neither do you two. Plus they go two by two, always two by two, and that’s a cop thing. Or seventh day Adventists. And I don’t think that the seventh day Adventists would have a secret base in a construction site. Plus you don’t look like seventh day Adventists. They always have big smiles pasted on their faces. You two look serious.”

  “Well, as you rightfully guessed, we’re not seventh day Adventists. And I can’t tell you much about the place, because I only just started working there yesterday,” said Jack.

  Brianna darted a sharp glance at him. Wasn’t top secret supposed to mean you kept hush about it?

  “Cool. So what kind of work do you do?”

  “Police work,” Jack said.

  The boy paused, then, looking over his shoulder, he said, “Are you going to catch the Heart Taker?”

  Startled, Brianna nearly pulled her foot off the box. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because we’re all scared of him in the trailer park. No one knows where he’ll strike next. Every couple months, they say, he rips someone’s heart out, and no one knows why or who he’ll kill next. Even us kids are scared. Since he’s been around, no one hangs out like they used to. No one sleeps well at night. I have nightmares that he comes into my trailer while I’m sleeping and watches me.” The boy nibbled his lower lip worriedly, then said, “But
if the folk in the secret base do police work, and you tell me you’re going to catch the Heart Taker, then maybe I’ll sleep better at night.”

  Brianna looked at Jack, who gave a miniscule shrug. “We’re trying the best we can,” she said.

  “Tell me when you get him, all right?” The boy looked up at her and she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and lines of strain on his face. The children, with their strong imaginations, would be more likely to suffer the strain of worrying about a monster.

  Brianna nodded. “I promise.”

  “Nice job you do there.” Jack pointed to her shoes, now shiny clean.

  “Want me to do yours?”

  Jack shook his head. “Not today. We’re in a hurry. We have to meet someone at the hospital, but I’ll stop by another day, promise.”

  “That’ll be seven bucks,” the kid said, putting his brushes away. “You guys are the first ones to be straight with me, so I’m giving you preferential rates. Most of the people coming outta there tell me they work in construction.”

  Brianna started to say she wanted to pay the full rate, but Jack said, “Here you go, keep the change,” and handed the kid a ten dollar bill. Then he hailed a passing cab and miracle of miracles, it stopped.

  ****

  At the hospital they were shown directly to Dr. Ballade’s office. As they walked in, the doctor stood up and shook their hands. He looked younger than Brianna expected, was very tall, and had a firm grip.

  “Have a seat. How can I help you?” he asked, sitting down and leaning over his desk, his hands in a steeple.

  Brianna glanced at Jack, and then said, “We’re looking for the Heart Taker, and we think he might have had medical training. Here are some pictures. Could you look at them and tell us if it looks like something a professional would do.” She stopped, flustered, and said, “I meant, if it looked professional.”

  The doctor’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I know what you meant.” He took the pictures and the twinkle vanished, replaced by the blank look of utter concentration. He shuffled slowly through the pictures, going back and looking at one, the one that showed a gaping hole in a bloodied chest. His face seemed to contract as he thought. Finally he looked up, placed the photos on his desk, and said, “This is the work of a surgeon.”

  “How can you tell?” Jack asked.

  “The heart was taken out very carefully, as if the killer wanted to use it as a transplant. The vena cava … the arteries and veins, have been carefully severed. The first cut is horizontal, and he must use several different …”

  “Say that again?” Brianna felt as if someone had just hit her in the stomach.

  “He severs the veins very carefully …”

  “No, no. I mean about the transplant.” Brianna looked at Jack. “We needed to find out why he took the heart. We thought of all sorts of things, eating it, keeping it as a souvenir. But not for transplant. Thank you doctor, we have to go.”

  “Where?” Dr. Ballade asked, polite interest in his voice.

  Brianna picked up her purse. “Back to the morgue. We have to check the victim’s blood types.”

  “Hold on. How would the Heart Taker know though?” Jack tapped his fingers on the desk. “If he was a surgeon, he might still have access to medical records. Some are public. What blood type are you?” He asked Brianna.

  “I’m type A. It’s not the most common.”

  “It’s not rare,” said the surgeon. “Is type A your blood too?” he asked Jack.

  “AB.” Jack grimaced. “At least, I was AB. Now I’m not so sure. Does this toss our theory of a transplant into the trash?”

  Dr. Ballade looked thoughtful. “Why aren’t you sure about your blood type? It doesn’t change, you know.”

  “He’s a zombie,” explained Brianna.

  For the first time a spark of interest lit the doctor’s eyes. “I’d love to do some tests on you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Er, I’ll think about it,” said Jack, getting up hastily. He paused. “Let’s imagine that blood type was part of his choice of victims. How would a surgeon find a database with blood types?”

  “If he were a surgeon it would be ridiculously easy if the person has been to the hospital. All the patients are blood typed on admission. But he wouldn’t have to be a surgeon. Anyone could check. School records, blood donors … it’s there if you look. For example, if you went to college here, you would have your blood type on the student card.”

  “But if he got it right, why does he need to kill so often?” Jack wanted to know.

  Doctor Ballade took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If he keeps on killing it could mean that his needs are complicated. Maybe he’s looking for a very rare blood type.”

  “Would just any heart do for a couple months?”

  “Oh yes. But it wouldn’t last longer than that.” The doctor looked hard at Jack. “If you are a zombie, and you are dead, does that mean the Heart Taker killed you?”

  Jack looked grim. “Yes, he killed me. And I mean to stop him.”

  Brianna looked quickly at Jack and added, “We think he was the Heart taker’s first victim.”

  “Well, I may have something of interest for you. It didn’t happen here, but in a hospital in the Native American Reservation one of the surgeons disappeared about two years ago. I don’t remember any details. But it did create a stir for a while.” He wrote something down on a pad of paper, tore off a sheet, and gave it to Jack. “I’m pretty sure his name was Doctor Mercury, or something like that.”

  “We’ll look into it. Thank you.” Jack shook hands with the doctor and helped Brianna gather up the photos.

  When they left the hospital, Jack looked at Brianna. “Now where to?” he asked.

  “The Native American reservation hospital. But maybe we better take the train. A taxi will cost us a fortune.” She sighed at the thought of the time it would take. “We can take the A train to Central Station then change to …”

  “Doesn’t mucky cover taxi fare?”

  “Mucky?” Brianna laughed. “I prefer moosie. And you’re right. We’ll give them the bill.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ghosts on a reservation

  Jack didn’t remember ever seeing the reservation before. Perhaps he’d been there, but he had no recollection at all of it. Mostly there was nothing to see, except near the tourist spots and the casinos. Then there were brightly painted tepees, palm trees in huge terra cotta pots, and a main street that looked like a cross between Vegas and what a ten year old might imagine a Native American village looked like.

  “The hospital is right behind Dakota Drive,” said the taxi driver.

  “This is Dakota land?” Jack looked at the garishly painted signs advertising hotels, motels, casinos, bars, grills, and suddenly remembered he was starving.

  “There’s Apache Avenue, Mohawk Mews, Blackfoot Boulevard, Sioux Street, Lakota Lane … you name it, it’s here.” The driver shrugged and turned left, past a life-sized bison made out of cement and painted bright orange. “The settlers and the army killed off the tribe that used to live here. They were an unknown tribe. That’s what I read, anyhow. It was sacred land hereabouts, so the surrounding tribes managed to get it made into a reservation. Or maybe the government didn’t find anything of value on it, so they let the Native Americans have it. I don’t really know.”

  Jack spotted a small restaurant and his stomach growled. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said to Brianna. “I’m starving.”

  She looked out the window. “Is it far to the hospital from here?”

  The cab driver shook his head. “No, just keep going straight and take the next left. You’ll see the hospital from there. You can’t miss it.”

  ****

  The restaurant was small, but the service was excellent and the food delicious. Jack had planked salmon with fresh asparagus and Brianna had the buffalo burger with French onion sauce. Afterward they found the hospital and went in to the a
dministration office to see if they could find out more about Dr. Mercury.

  “Of course I remember him,” said the secretary in the main office. He checked their credentials then ushered them into a large room with filing cabinets taking up every available space except for a black table, a desk, and three chairs. “Here, have a seat. This is the record room. Let me see what I’ve got on him.”

  “What happened, exactly?” asked Brianna, setting her purse at her feet and sitting on one of the chairs. It was a hard, plastic chair and Jack decided he’d rather stand when he saw Brianna wince as she sat down.

  “He was one of our best surgeons. I honestly don’t think he ever lost a patient during surgery. It was something of a legend here, and some of the staff were telling him he’d be in the world record book. Oh yes, here we are.” The man took a folder out of a filing cabinet and slammed the drawer shut. “Doctor Silas Mercury. Here is his file. You can take this one, it’s a copy.” He put it on the desk in front of Brianna.

  “Thanks.” Brianna took it but didn’t open it. “So one day he just vanished?”

  “It was more than that. He left because of his wife. At least, that’s what we all think.”

  Jack imagined that the “we” meant the staff at the hospital. “Did his wife leave him for another man, cheat on him or something?”

  “Oh no. She died.” The man shook his head. “A terrible story. It’s all in the file. She was sick for a long time. But before a donor was found, she died.”

  Jack started to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. “A donor?”

  “She needed a new heart.”

  Somehow Jack and Brianna found themselves outside walking down the street. She clutched the file to her chest, her face blank. Jack thought he knew how she felt.

  “It’s late,” said Brianna. “We’ll never get back to the city in time to see Jeffrey.”