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The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series)

Page 46

by Maxim, John R.


  “Okay, throw in a red Porsche.”

  Also an occasional Stanley Gelman, Carla thought, but she knew better than to say it. And maybe an occasional all-night fuck with Paul, now that he's worked up an appetite but, hopefully, lost his little Polish bonbon. Carla chose not to say that, either.

  CHAPTER 26

  The doctor with the Swiss-British accent stepped around Lesko and leaned across Susan. He held a pen-light over her eyes, moving it from side to side over each of them, then up and down.

  “The nurse says you heard her speak?”

  “I think so.” Lesko wrung his hands helplessly. “I don't know. Maybe I imagined it.”

  “What words? Did she say your name?”

  “No, it was….” he stopped himself. He was already feeling foolish for jumping up and yelling for the nurse.

  “What words, Mr. Lesko?”

  “Oh, shit,” he answered. “I thought she said, ‘Oh, shit.' ”

  The doctor smiled, more out of compassion than amusement. “Possibly only an expulsion of breath. With a dry mouth it could sound like this.”

  “She's not waking up?”

  “She is,” he said. “She might have already, then slept again. This is also possible. Waking up will be sporadic, as in the case of general anesthesia. However, I would not expect her first words to be an assessment of her situation.”

  “What's with the flashlight? How does she look?”

  “Pupillary reaction is quite good. So is corneal reflex. Response to touch is also encouraging. From this, I would say that catastrophic brain damage is unlikely. Beyond that, it is difficult to say.”

  “But you're saying there could still be aftereffects. Is she going to be normal or not?”

  “I am hopeful, Mr. Lesko. We must both wait and see.”

  “Oh, shit”

  Susan hated it when this happened.

  It was like falling asleep with the TV on and not being able to wake up enough to turn it off.

  It was worse.

  It was like going to bed after eating Chinese food loaded with soy sauce and by four in the morning you're so thirsty you could die but you can't wake up enough to get a glass of water.

  Her mouth, her nose, felt as if they were stuffed with cotton. She tried to remember where she'd been. What she'd eaten.

  So many dreams. Skiing dreams. Sexy dreams. Tacky, but still sexy. Getting-murdered dreams. By Caroline and Ray, of all people. Fight dreams. Dreams with Uncle David. And he's dead. Isn't he? Wait a second.

  Yes, he is. That must have been like one of daddy's dreams. Without the morning bagels.

  Daddy?

  You're here, aren't you? Little bright lights in my eyes. I can't see. But I hear you.

  Wait a second. Where are we? I was in Switzerland with Paul. The skiing wasn't a dream. Daddy, what are you doing here? Did I get hurt?”

  ”. . . I get hurt?”

  “What?” Lesko's head jerked up. “What?”

  “Daddy?”

  “I'm here, sweetheart.”

  She felt his weight against the bed but he was hidden in a thick gray cloud.

  “Daddy, how come. . . ? What happened?”

  “It's okay, baby. Talk to me.”

  “Daddy, where's Paul?”

  The BMW, its rear end still weighted with Harold Carmody's body, began its descent down the mountain road into Davos. Paul had the wheel. He'd barely spoken since they started.

  “I'll be glad when we're home,” Billy said, staring ahead. Paul didn't answer. He took a slow, deep breath.

  “We get to the hospital,” Billy read his mind, part of it, “you let me handle her father. He comes at you again, I'll take him. It's not dignified, you rolling around the floor like that.”

  “It's my problem, Billy.” He held up a hand to stay any objection. “Let's just try to get home without any more damage.”

  Billy thought that he meant the Doc. “You handled that real good, by the way.”

  Another breath. No answer.

  “I know it was hard, shooting through your own guy. But we didn't have all day to stand around there. It's what me or Molly would have done. Lesko got there soon enough, he would have done it, too.”

  “I guess.”

  “You see his face? He would have done it, but he gets all shook when he sees someone else do it.”

  “He didn't just see that, Billy. He was seeing me with his daughter. He wants it to be over. It is. l can't expose her to anything like this again.”

  Not that she'd want to see him, either, he thought. Especially after her father tells her a few things.

  “Maybe she won't care. Women marry cops. And soldiers. Even mob guys. Which brings up something I been meaning to tell you. Know what I'm going to do when I get home, it's okay with you?”

  “What, Billy?”

  “I'm going to see if Mrs. DiBiasi maybe wants to get married.”

  The BMW swerved.

  “What do you think? You'd be best man.”

  ”I, um ... I don't know, Billy. Does she know anything about this?”

  “She likes me enough, I think.”

  “Billy…even if you both…” Paul groped for the right words. Nothing came that was not a cliché. “It's an awfully big step. There's a lot more to marriage than. . . .”

  “You mean sex? I know about sex.”

  “You do,” Paul answered blankly.

  “It's from hookers, mostly. But there was this one up in Hamburg who taught me what women like.”

  Paul was afraid to ask.

  “She said I was too rough and not considerate. First I figured, what would a German know about considerate? But then I tried it on this Italian hooker and she liked me so much she fixed me dinner after.”

  “But not…nothing with Mrs. DiBiasi?”

  “If I did, I don't think I'm supposed to say.”

  “You're absolutely right.”

  “Anyway, we didn't. Couple of times, though, she looked at me like that other Italian did. And sometimes she puts her head on my lap when we're watching television.”

  “Billy,” Paul tried not to smile, “you're living under the same roof now. Don't you think it might be a good idea to keep on the way you are and see how the relationship develops? Molly can give you any advice you need on…”

  “I don't want to talk to Molly about it.”

  “Why not? I thought you were very close.”

  “Yeah, but she thinks me and Mrs. DiBiasi are cute. I don't want to be cute.”

  Susan's vision still hadn't cleared. She was seeing everything through a milky film. And she was still dropping off to sleep every two minutes.

  “Daddy?”

  “Right here, sweetheart.”

  “You and Paul were fighting, weren't you. It wasn't a dream.”

  “He slipped. I helped him up. They use too much wax here.”

  “You were fighting. We saw you.”

  “Yeah, well ... it was more of an accident. A misunderstanding.”

  “Did he win?” she asked drowsily. Then she abruptly smiled. “Uncle David said it would do you good to get your ass kicked for a change.”

  Lesko's head came up. The we in we saw you suddenly registered. “What are you talking about?”

  “He said don't worry. You were just feeling parental.”

  “You saw Katz?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “What was he wearing?”

  “What was he wearing?” Susan raised her head. “Daddy, it was just a dream.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know.”

  Susan frowned as another memory came back to her. She pushed herself up on her elbows, her arms tugging at the IV tubes. Lesko reached to quiet her. “Caroline and Ray,” she said, squinting at him. “That wasn't a dream. They grabbed me and…”

  “It's okay now, sweetheart.” He eased her back to her pillow.

  “Daddy, why? Was this…?” She remembered Paul and that bread knife. “Was this about Paul?”

 
“Don't you worry. It's all okay.”

  “Why isn't he here? Did they hurt him, too?”

  “Paul's fine. He went out looking for them. It's all under control.”

  “They were so…they must have been crazy.” she said distantly.

  “You just get better. We'll take care of them.”

  “Daddy, you shouldn't have let Paul go alone. You should have gone. Paul doesn't know about people like that. Or does he?”

  “I don't know, I….” He saw movement at the glass partition. Bannerman. And the bartender. But now a woman from down the hall was running up to them waving a little piece of paper. They stopped and listened. They went back with her. “He's here now, Susan. I don't think he can stay long, but he's here.”

  Lesko stepped into the corridor outside Intensive Care and waited for them. He held up a hand as they approached. When Bannerman stopped, Lesko placed his fingertips against his chest.

  “You don't want to do that,” Billy moved toward him.

  “It's all right, Billy,” Paul said softly. “I heard she's conscious. How does she seem?”

  “Mostly okay, no thanks to you,” Lesko answered, though the Katz thing made him wonder. “What's with the woman? Caroline…Lurene, whatever?”

  “You won't see her again. That's over.”

  “I want to know what she told you. And if she's dead I want to see the body.”

  “If that will please you. Right now I want to see Susan.”

  “Five minutes, Bannerman. That's long enough to say good-bye. I don't want you near her after today.”

  Billy leaned forward again. Bannerman eased him back. “As it happens, Lesko, I agree with you.” He stepped around him.

  “You know you're a jerk?” Billy glared at him. “You ought to learn who your friends are.”

  Lesko ignored him. He was watching through the partition. Bannerman leaning over her. Hugging her. Now touching her cheek. Come on. Get on with it.

  “Helping you, we lost the Doc. He's dead now, too.*’

  The Doc? Oh, yeah. The guy who got cut and his armpit chewed up. Elena took him to Zurich. He didn't look that badly hurt. Elena. Maybe he shouldn't have talked to her the way he did. She tried to help. She did help. It was just that he didn't want any of this shit, none of it, near Susan anymore. Maybe she'll come back down, he'll apologize. Maybe he'll write her a letter.

  “Helping you,” Billy stuck a hand on Lesko's chest as he'd seen Lesko do to Bannerman, “even your own friends got shot. You don't care about that, either?”

  Lesko considered breaking his fingers. Except another fight would get him thrown out of here for good. “Wait a minute. What?”

  “The lady who drove you. When she drove back.”

  Lesko brushed the hand away. “What the hell are you talking about?” He suddenly felt ill. In his mind, he saw the woman who'd run after them in the corridor. She had a message. He saw how Bannerman looked, dead eyes like Billy's, when he came back up.

  “The car they were in,” Billy told him. “It got ambushed.”

  “Today?” Susan reached for the hem of his ski jacket, gripping it. “You have to go today?”

  “There's a whole set of problems back home. I have to, yes.”

  “Paul, what's going on?” she asked wearily, sadly. “What's happening here?”

  “Well,” he looked away, “your father and I are trying to sort that out. By tomorrow, maybe, by the time you're a little stronger, he'll be able to tell you about it.”

  “Is he going to tell me who you are?”

  Paul didn't answer.

  “I keep trying to tell you I'm not stupid. You're saying good-bye, aren't you?”

  “You weren’t stupid. I was.”

  “Answer me. Are you saying good-bye?”

  “I'm saying,” he pried her hand free, gently, “that I will never expose you to anything like this again.”

  “You told me you loved me. Do you?”

  “That was selfish. It was a need.”

  “Do you or don't you?”

  “Susan,” he shifted uncomfortably, “if I say yes, you're going to tell me we can work the other things out, but there are some things…”

  “I was going to say that? Oh.''

  “I'm sorry. What were you. . . ? Oh, heck.”

  She took a long, deep breath, then let it out. “You haven't done this sort of thing very often, have you?”

  ”Um, no. I haven't.”

  “When you want to break off with a woman, you're supposed to come on like a rat. You don't say ‘Oh, heck.' You say things like ‘It's been a great ride, kid, but I'm getting off in Chicago.’ Or something Yuppie like ‘We're just not in sync, long-haul-wise.’ That way I could decide you're an asshole and be glad to get rid of you.”

  He didn't want to smile. He turned away so she couldn't see it.

  “Now that I think of it, though,” she told him, “your line about it being a selfish need was pretty schmucky, too.”

  “I'm…glad you're starting to feel like your old self again.”

  “Paul? Who are you? There's no way you're a criminal. Was Caroline right? Are you a spy? Is that what all this is about?”

  “Susan, I have to go.” He backed away.

  “Good-bye won't end this,” she warned. “You're going to tell me.”

  “Talk to your father.”

  He closed the curtain partway so she couldn't watch him leave.

  “Hold it.” Lesko fell in step with Paul as he strode down the corridor. “What about Elena?”

  “She's been shot. I don't know how badly.” He kept walking. Billy had gone ahead for the car.

  “Look, talk to me.” He grabbed Bannerman's arm. “Where is she now?”

  Paul turned to face him, his eyes inches away from Lesko's. “There are two dead,” he hissed. “One was a friend of mine: The other was Elena's cousin, the one who came here to protect Susan. Mr. Lesko, I really don't have time for you right now.”

  “You're going to her? I'm going with you.”

  “You're staying with Susan. The killing isn't finished.” He pulled the Belgian automatic from his hip and jammed it into Lesko's belt. “I'm sending Molly Farrell down here to spell you.”

  “I don't need any of your damned women. And don't you tell me what I'm going to…”

  He didn't finish. Paul seized his lapels and slammed him backward against the corridor wall. Then he stepped back, eyes blazing, and waited.

  Lesko made no move. His fists went into balls and he dropped to a crouch, but that much was reflex. Slowly, he straightened. Paul turned for the door.

  “Bannerman,” Lesko said huskily. “Wait. Wait a second.”

  “Now what?” Paul slowed.

  “Okay. Sometimes I can be a jerk where my daughter is concerned. Not just with you. Always.”

 

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