Deep as the Marrow

by F. Paul Wilson

All right, he thought. I know the who. What’s the why?

  Only one reason he could figure for MacDougal to come back at this hour and head downstairs: He had to be embalming the babe on the table.

  Shit, that could take hours, and Paulie didn’t exactly have all night.

  Mac wanted a call when the persuader was delivered. He didn’t get that call soon, he’d start getting antsy… might decide to pay the package a personal visit.

  Then Paulie realized something: The alarm was off. He could sneak out the rear door—walk instead of crawl. He allowed himself a smile. When someone hands you a lemon, make lemonade.

  He stepped out into the hall and headed toward the rear, moving carefully, hugging the wall where the flooring was less likely to creak.

  But as he passed the security panel he stopped and suppressed a groan. The indicator light was red—MacDougal had rearmed the system.

  Okay. Only one thing to do. If MacDougal was in that back room doing whatever it was undertakers did to “beloveds,” he’d probably never hear Paulie sneak downstairs and slip out the bathroom window. A risky move but doable—if you had the balls.

  He had to get out of here.

  He headed downstairs, taking every step as carefully as he could. The carpeting helped. When he reached bottom he peeked into the lounge and found it empty.

  Excellent.

  The door to the private room was half open and he heard MacDougal’s voice coming from inside, talking now instead of humming.

  Even better. Paulie’s worst-case scenario on his way down the stairs had been sneaking into the bathroom and finding MacDougal taking a dump.

  He skittered over to the bathroom door and was easing it open when he heard MacDougal’s voice change. He was groaning now, making weird noises. Paulie knew he should stay on course but he had to see what was going on.

  He crept to the private door, put his nose against its outer surface, then eased his head to the side until he could peek around the edge.

  At the far end of the room, MacDougal’s fat naked body was bobbing atop the dead girl on the embalming table. Fascinated and repulsed, Paulie watched for a few seconds, then tore himself away. The growling animal noises coming from MacDougal now were the perfect cover for his escape.

  Shaking his head, Paulie headed back to the bathroom. Weirdos—the world was full of them, man.

  13

  Poppy heard the garage door go up. She peeked out and saw the panel truck pulling in.

  Finally! Jesus he’d been gone so long she thought something had happened to him. The extra time could only mean one thing: trouble. At least now she knew he hadn’t got caught. But what if he hadn’t been able to get that toe? He had to have it. She couldn’t think of any other way out of this mess.

  She could like barely breathe as she waited for him to come through the door. And when he did she totally jumped on him.

  “Did you get it? Please say yes. Please!”

  He gave her this innocent look. “Get what? Was I supposed to get something?”

  “Paulie! Don’t do this to me!”

  Finally he smiled. “Of course I got it.”

  She sagged against him. “Oh, thank God! I was so worried.”

  “Nothing to it. Want to see?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

  “Maybe you better take a look.” She backed up a step and looked at him.

  “Why? Don’t tell me the dead kid was black or something.”

  “Nah. White as the package. But there’s something missing, something we’ll need if we’re gonna pull this off.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Blood. The persuader ain’t gonna be too persuasive if we send it like it is. We need to smear some fresh blood around the edge.” Poppy swallowed. He was right. She hadn’t thought about that.

  “Okay. We can use some of mine. I’ll…” He was shaking his head slowly.

  “What if dear old dad gets the blood typed, just to be sure, it’s his kid’s? We can’t risk that. We need hers.”

  “Uh-uh,” she said, backing up another step. “No way.”

  “Poppy,” he said slowly. “I went to hell and back to save your little friend’s toe. All we need to make this work—to really get away with it—is a few drops of her blood. A pin prick, f’chrissake. Otherwise, you want to be responsible for what happens when Mac shows up with the news that the package’s father says it ain’t his kid’s toe?”

  He had a point—a very scary point. She hated it, but it was the only way. A little stick was like a small price to pay to save a whole toe.

  She sighed. “All right. But let me talk to her first.” She was pretty sure she could make Katie understand. They’d got pretty tight tonight. What did the guys call it? Bonding? Yeah. That was it. Katie and me bonded pretty good tonight.

  Friday

  1

  “Marijuana’s full name is cannabis hemp and it is one very useful plant. It produces the toughest known natural fiber. The first denim and most of the world’s sailcloth used to be made from cannabis hemp. As a matter of fact, the Dutch word for cannabis is canvass.

  “Did you know it takes four acres of twenty-year-old trees to make the same amount of paper as a single acre of hemp? And without using bleaches and dioxin? You can make methanol, cooking oil, vegetable protein, medications… the list goes on and on. Cannabis is a cash crop that won’t need a single subsidy. It’s silly to keep it illegal.” John turned down the volume on the TV, muffling Heather Brent’s latest interview.

  Was that a beep he’d just heard? It seemed to have come from down the hall, in the direction of the study and the computer. A real beep, or just wishful thinking? Probably his imagination.

  He sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face.

  Another sleepless night. Another series of fruitless trips to the computer in search of Snake-mail. He’d been praying all night to hear from the kidnappers. Now he was hearing things. But he had to check. He’d left the computer logged in to the HHS network. If e-mail arrived, it would beep.

  The bastard, John thought as he stumbled down the hall for one more look. He’s really punishing me for that hang up. Probably thinks I’ll be so tortured by a whole day of not hearing anything that I’ll be as compliant as a used examination glove and do everything he tells me.

  Well, he’s not far from wrong.

  John had decided to agree—verbally—without question or reservation to everything Snake demanded. But all the while he’d be looking for a way around actually poisoning Tom. He didn’t know how yet, but something would come up, he was sure.

  He stepped into the study and blinked at the screen. Was that—? He stepped closer. Yes. The mail icon was blinking in the corner. He downloaded the letter to his screen.

  From the anonymous remailer—thank you. God—but only eight words:

  Check your snail mail, then e-mail your response.

  Snail mail? But the mailman didn’t come by until— The mailbox.

  John pulled on the first pair of pants he could find and ran out to the curb. He opened the mailbox door and found one of those padded mailers stuffed inside. He reached for it, then hesitated as thoughts of bombs and booby traps raced through his brain. He dismissed them, but found himself more than a little unsettled by the realization that Snake or one of his people—the guy in the sweatsuit in the CVS, maybe—had stood on this very spot not long ago. If he’d been looking out the window, he might have seen them. Gingerly, he reached in and removed the envelope.

  Light. Couldn’t be much more than paper inside. Check your snail mail; then e-mail your response. That could only mean printed instructions. Or maybe some new demand.

  Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the pull here tab and yanked. He reached inside but found no paper. Only a small plastic bag. He pulled it out and stared at it. At first he thought it was empty, then he spotted something stuck in the corner. Little. No bigger than one of his fingernails.

  White… and red… and the re
d was smeared along the inner surface of the bag.

  His heart began to pound… the bag trembled in his fingers as he leaned closer for a better look. And when he realized what it was his legs seemed to dissolve and he dropped to his knees and let out an agonized howl of grief and despair so long and loud that it set the neighborhood dogs to barking.

  2

  Snake hurried up the front walk to the house.

  He would have preferred to limit all his contact with Paulie to phones and hotel bars, but he always made a point of visiting at least once to inspect the arrangements.

  What he didn’t like was someone remembering him or his car here in the unlikely event the place was ever connected to the snatch. Which was why he was wearing an Orioles cap and had his collar pulled up. The Virginia plates on the Jeep were borrowed and would be tossed in the Potomac as soon as this was over.

  All those precautions, and still he felt buck naked out here. But that didn’t blunt his good mood. He’d heard from Vanduyne this morning and everything was under control.

  As he approached the front door he made a quick check of the yard. The butter-colored blossoms on the scraggly forsythia along the foundation did little to offset the house’s generally disheveled appearance. Not much of a lawn, but it looked like it was waking up from winter. Yard maintenance had been part of the one-year lease, but they’d all be long gone before it needed its first mowing.

  He knocked on the door. “It’s me. Everybody where they should be?” He’d phoned earlier to let them know he was coming. He wanted the package safely tucked out of sight when he arrived.

  Paulie opened the door. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. C’mon in.” As the door closed behind him. Snake reached out and grabbed Paulie’s hand. “Good job with the persuader, my man. Worked like a charm.” Always a good policy to lavish a little praise on the peons when it was well deserved. A few strokes cost nothing and sometimes were better than money. Sometimes.

  He spotted Poppy on the couch, reading a magazine. She didn’t look up and he didn’t bother acknowledging her. The bitch was one major pain in the ass.

  “Yeah?” Paulie said, smiling through his beard. “How do you know?”

  “Got a message from him this morning. Guy’s practically falling all over himself to cooperate.”

  “So he bought it, huh?”

  Snake spotted a quick look pass between him and Poppy. What was going on here?

  “Bought it?” Snake said. “What’s to buy? It’s his kid’s toe.”

  “Yeah, I know. But he could’ve thought she was already dead and we just cut her toe off, or something like that. But then, with fresh blood on the toe, I guess he’d have to believe she was still alive.” Snake had never heard Paulie babble like this… and he didn’t like it.

  “Something wrong, Paulie?”

  “Wrong?” His eyes got a funny, guarded look. “No. Why should anything be wrong.”

  “Because you’re not acting like yourself.”

  “Maybe because he never had to molest a child before,” Poppy said.

  Snake didn’t bother looking at her. “Nobody molested anyone. And who asked you anyway?”

  “What do you call chopping off a six-year-old’s toe?” she said. “Not exactly a walk in the park. And we’re damn lucky she didn’t take one of her fits.”

  Now he had no choice but to face Poppy, and he was shocked by the naked anger and revulsion in her expression—as if she were looking at something that had just crawled out from under a rock. He fought an urge to step over there and wipe that look off her face.

  “Fits?”

  “Yeah. The fits she takes those pills for.” Now he got it. “Oh. You mean convulsions.” He let the words drip acid. “You need to work on your vocabulary, honey.”

  “And you need to work on your research. How come you didn’t know she took fits?”

  Snake had had just about enough of this bitch. He turned to Paulie.

  “Tell your girlfriend not to speak unless spoken to.”

  “She’s got a right to her opinion.”

  “When I want the opinion of someone with purple hair, I’ll ask for it.”

  Paulie held up his hands. “All right, all right. The point she’s trying to make is it was pretty goddamn dicey getting that toe. I hope to hell it was worth it.” Snake gave himself a few seconds to cool.

  “Yeah. It was worth it. You should have seen her father’s message. Frantic as hell. If it had been on paper it would have been covered with tear stains.” Snake smiled. As he’d read those pleading words he could almost hear Vanduyne’s sobs. Please oh please oh please oh PLEASE don’t hurt her again!

  “I guess you’re real proud of yourself,” Poppy said.

  She was asking for it… really asking for it…

  “C’mon, Poppy,” Paulie said, giving her a hard look.

  “Yeah,” Snake continued, ignoring her. “No more arguments from Daddy. He’s ready to do anything we want.”

  “And just what is it we want Daddy to do?” Paulie said.

  “That’s between me and the other people involved. Better you don’t know.” No way in hell was he telling these two.

  “So, where’s the little package?” he said to Paulie.

  He jerked his head toward one of the doors leading off the living room.

  “In there.”

  “Well, I’ll just take a look, and that will complete my inspection tour.”

  “She’s sleeping,” Poppy said.

  Didn’t this bitch know when to shut up?

  “Blindfolded?” he said to Paulie.

  “Sure. That’s SOP.”

  “Good.” He started toward the door. “Then I’ll just take a peek.” Poppy was up and standing by the door, her worried eyes nicking from Paulie, to the door, to Snake, and around again.

  “Don’t. You’ll wake her up. You don’t know what a time we had getting her to sleep.”

  “That’s what baby-sitters get paid for.” He breezed past her and opened the door. The light was out so he found the switch and flicked it.

  Poppy slipped past him and stood by the foot of the bed—no, hovered was more like it. She looked nervous as a cat, biting her lip, rubbing her hands together. Looking at her you’d have bet half your net worth the package was her own kid.

  But Snake had to admit that everything looked okay: The package was blindfolded and tied to the bed frame, just as she should be. She wore a plaid shirt and overalls of some sort, a sneaker on her left foot, and a big gauze bandage on her right.

  He nodded and walked out, leaving Poppy behind. Out in the front room, Paulie still didn’t look right. And that worried Snake. He didn’t want these two to get cold feet on him. The game still had a way to go before it was finished.

  “Hey,” he said with a smile, “she looks pretty damn good. No worse for wear, as far as I can see. And she’ll never miss that toe.”

  “I’m real glad it worked,” Paulie said.“ ‘Cause I don’t know if I could go through that again.”

  “What’s the matter with you, Paulie? You going soft?”

  “No. I just—”

  Snake felt his rage flare. Time to lay down the law to these assholes.

  “You just nothing! You’re working for me. I tell you to cut off her fucking hand, you say, ‘Which one?’ Or you’re out of this!” But Paulie was shaking his head. He was looking at the floor, but he was hanging tough.

  “All right,” he said. “Then we’re out of it. Find someone else to do your dirty work. But we ain’t cutting up a kid. It ain’t right.”

  The words shook Snake. Find someone else? Where the hell would he find another baby-sitter at this stage of the game? This whole gig was going to hell. First he had to take out an insurance policy with Salinas, and then he had to deal with that unpredictable Vanduyne, and now the peasants were threatening revolt. What next?

  “You threatening me?”

  Paulie shook his head. “No threat. Just telling you the way it is. We’ll
play this thing through just like you want it, but no more persuaders.” Snake couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him look bad. And since he couldn’t do what he really felt like doing—put a .38-caliber hole in Paulie’s face—he decided to make his exit.

  Yeah. Leave them wondering what his next move would be.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and headed out the front door.

  He fumed on the way across the yard. And to think he’d been feeling guilty about throwing Paulie and Poppy to Salinas’s wolves when this was over. Just went to show how useless an emotion guilt was. Getting rid of these two was a great idea. He’d had it up to here with Paulie and his bitch.

  3

  As soon as the door closed behind Mac, Poppy threw her arms around Paulie.

  “Paulie! You were awesome! The way you stood up to him… totally awesome!” She could feel him shaking but wouldn’t mention it— not for a million dollars.

  “Yeah, well, I just didn’t like him talking to you like that. Know what I mean? I mean, enough is enough.” She looked up at his face and realized something was different about him.

  He’d started getting quiet last night after taking the blood from Katie.

  Poppy had held her while Paulie jabbed the corner of a razor blade into the pad of her little toe. They figured they were going to have to bandage her foot anyway to make it look like she’d had her toe cut off, so why not like get the blood from that spot.

  And Katie had been so good about it, a real champ. She’d winced and whimpered, but that was about it. She said she was used to getting stuck because of the regular blood tests she had to get as long as she was taking her medicine.

  And after Paulie came back from delivering the persuader, he’d been quieter still, and had continued that way this morning. She’d thought he was still ticked at her for making him go out to that funeral home last night, but now she realized it was something else. Something deeper.

  “What’s up, Paulie? What’s bothering you?”