I was silent in thought, in hope, that some great voice would speak to me, call out from another world and another time with wise insights and soothing words. But nothing came. Had I lost that comfort, too? Had I been abandoned?
“No, I'm here,” called my guardian, returning to duty. “Just stay with the story, pull it like a thread and let it unravel. And avoid the rhetorical questions, they'll only confuse you.”
In my mind I closed that black hole of questions, sealed shut that horrible, wormy can. Toni and I were in my living room, we had discussed everything, and she was moving ahead with what we thought was our only choice. I looked up the number again, handed her the phone, and she dialed.
Into the receiver, Toni said, “Hi, is Rob Tyler there?” She glanced at me, smiled. Then: “Hi, Rob, this is Toni Domingo, Liz's sister. Listen, please don't hang up.” Then to make sure he wouldn't, she offered a well-baited hook. “I have to warn you about something—someone tried to kill us this morning and we think he's going to come after you next.” Toni paused to listen to him, then tossed in the second hook with the rest of the bait, saying, “Listen, we know you're one of the Dragons. Liz had some pictures… she sent them out to be developed and we found them in her mailbox.”
We needed to talk, too. That's what she told him. We had proof that he was one of them, that he was in danger, and also that the Dragons had been infiltrated by the police. Did he know that? Apparently not. I stood there, watching Toni nod and concentrate. I stood focused on her, trying to discern what Tÿler was saying, if he was agreeing to it at all. Seconds later, she hung up.
“Well?” I asked.
“The good news is that he claims there is some stuff we should know.” She tried not to smile. “The bad news is he says you're a pain in the ass. He'll meet me, but only alone.”
“What? That's ridiculous. When?”
“Tonight at eight-thirty.”
“Here?”
Toni shook her head. “No, at the Thirty-second Street Beach. Where's that?”
“On Lake Calhoun.” This wasn't good. Not right. “I don't like this, Toni. You know how dangerous it'd be?”
It would be dark hours earlier, particularly by the lake because all the streetlights were up on the parkway, and the beach was down below. A row of thick trees and bushes was in between. The light would be dim at best. No, this wasn't good. There was lots going on down there, most of it dangerous, all of it murky, because it was difficult to find such a secluded and dark space in a city that was nothing but grid, grid, grid. Why in hell would he want to meet her there? So he could escape easily?
I said, “You have to call him back, pick another place, something public like a mall or a store.”
“We don't have a choice, Alex. It's the only place he'll meet me. He said so.”
“But—”
“We'll take precautions. I've some ideas, and besides you can wait nearby.”
I was searching for a way to talk her out of it, keep her far from that spot. It was hopeless, though. Of course it was. We had to coax some truth, some sort of fact out of Tyler. How else could we do it?
The phone rang its shrill cry and I flinched, stared at the black thing sitting there on the table in the living room. One, two, three, four rings. After the fourth, my attention turned to the grayish box beneath it and on the next shelf down. My answering machine. As it clicked into gear, spit out my message, I glanced at Toni and we mirrored the same question: Jenkins?
The message ended, there was the perfunctory beep, and then a voice said, “Hi, this is Ed Dawson calling. It's about—”
I jumped forward, grabbed the phone. “Hi, this is Alex.”
“How's everything?”
“I guess you could say very interesting. What's up?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I'm having a bit of trouble reaching my cousin, the one who's with the FBI. He's up north investigating some trouble at one of the casinos. I've left two messages, so he should be calling back very soon.”
“Good.”
I guessed that was good, anyway. I'd nearly forgotten all about that. Next to me, Toni was reaching out, wanting the phone.
I said, “Here, Toni wants to talk to you.”
I handed her the receiver, she muttered greetings but did not mention—as I hadn't—our encounter that morning with Jenkins.
“Listen,” she said, “I just spoke with Rob Tyler, and I'm going to meet him tonight at the Thirty-second Street Beach. I think he's got some stuff to tell me, some useful stuff about Jenkins and maybe about Liz.” Toni paused, then started shaking her head. “No, I don't want your cousin to come now. No FBI, no police. Not even Alex. He wants to meet me alone, that's the only way—” Toni paused, raised her voice. “Hello? Hello? Are you there?” She hesitated, then said, “Can you hear me now? Good. Well, there's not much else. We'll call you in the morning. Can your cousin meet us tomorrow?” Now she was nodding. “Good, okay. Yes, I'll be careful. Thanks.”
She hung up, and looking at me, said, “That was weird. Right in the middle of the conversation the phone started clicking.”
Paranoia rushed through me, and I went out on the sunporch and checked the street. Jenkins couldn't be up to anything, could he? My eyes swept the street, saw nothing.
Returning to the living room, I suggested, “Toni, maybe we should have Dawson's cousin come. He could hide in the bushes or… or…”
“Or bring a whole crew down there? No, we've got to leave him out of it.”
“But what if Tyler goes after you?”
“He won't. I'll tell him you're nearby, that you're in some bushes watching.”
“So what am I going to do if he does try to pull something, whip out a hankie and wave it?”
“No, I'll get some Mace.” She leaned against the couch. “And I'll carry one of the walkie-talkies in my purse. That way you'll be able to hear everything. You'll know if something's wrong.”
That wasn't a bad idea; it might work, but again it might not, and I said, “I don't know. This is way too dangerous. Maybe we should get the FBI involved.”
“No, Alex, I don't want any FBI types bounding in and screwing this up. If we tell them what's going on, they could decide to play the super jocks and swoop down and arrest Tyler, and then Tyler might just shut up. We might never learn what he knows about Jenkins or Liz or even Chris.”
I wanted to say that Toni was just being antimale and superfeminist, that she was just being pigheaded and selfish. But she was probably right. If we brought in Dawson's cousin, then he could decide to do things his way. The FBI could usurp our plan and we could lose control of it all.
“I suppose you're right,” I reluctantly said. “Besides, if there was someone else down there, Tyler might catch on beforehand. He might spot an FBI sort and just not show up at all.”
“Exactly.”
I turned to her, crossed the living room, took her hand, said, “But I still think it sucks. I don't like this, I really don't.”
“Oh, Alex.” Toni leaned over, kissed me on the cheek. “Tyler could tell me something that might really help.”
“Or he might really hurt you. What if it was him that killed Liz?”
“I know, but don't you see I've got to do this?”
Chapter 27
We decided to spend the rest of the day away from my house, away from the phone. The last thing we wanted was to confront Jenkins, or for Jenkins to stop us somehow from meeting with Tyler. So shortly after our conversation with Ed Dawson, Toni and I left for downtown, shopping for the few things we needed, then having a late lunch at the Skyroom at Dayton's. And when I called home well after four and checked the answering machine by remote, there were indeed messages from Jenkins.
“We need to talk.”
That's what he said in the messages he left, all three of them. But there was no way we were going to return his call, initiate any kind of dialogue. The soonest I wanted to see him was tomorrow, and then only in the company of Dawson's
FBI cousin.
All afternoon I carried a tight sensation in my gut, a feeling of dread; at first I thought I was incredibly hungry, but then I realized I was just incredibly nervous. I wanted to put the brake on all this, and I thought about doing exactly that as we aimlessly strolled Nicollet Mall and waited for the sun to set. I did nothing but stew, however, and by seven forty-five it was dark and we were just about ready to leave, so it was clear I'd missed my chance and there was no turning back. This was really going to happen, this meeting with Tyler, for I knew he was going to show up, just as I knew to expect the worst.
“Don't worry,” said Toni, after we'd had yet another cup of coffee and it was finally time to go. “All the stuff we have will help.”
Yes, the camera with the infrared film that we'd searched all around for, finally finding it in a camera shop on Hennepin Avenue. The walkie-talkies. We had those, and Toni had a new purse, a big, long one that hung from her shoulder. A bag big enough to conceal a walkie-talkie with a hard rubber antenna, and that was also thin enough so you could hear voices. If it all worked out, I'd be able to hear everything that Toni and Tyler were saying, I'd be able to capture their meeting on film, and if there was a problem I'd be able to come flying out of those bushes at a moment's notice.
“You got the Mace?” I asked as we walked to the car.
“Yep.”
“You're going to carry it in your hand?”
“Yes, Dad.”
We were going to be early, of course; that's the way we'd planned it, for us to arrive well ahead of time so that I could sink into the bushes, be close by but undetected by Tyler. It wasn't that far from downtown to Lake Calhoun, some fifteen minutes at most. I drove down Hennepin and past my neighborhood, skirted Uptown, crossed Lake Street, and then turned right on Thirty-second. It was such a nice neighborhood, the trees and all, the clapboard houses looking so midwestern sturdy, and it was odd to be creeping around like this in a place that looked so damn stable.
“Let me go first,” I said, pulling over, shutting off the car. “The beach is right up there. See those steps?”
The street ended in a mass of bushes that were still fighting the spring chill to break into full bloom. Trees, too, a handful of them, that were also struggling to put forth summer leaves. Right in the middle of everything was a wood railing and concrete steps leading down.
“You just go down the stairs and the beach is right at the bottom,” I continued. “There's a bench off to the left, by some trees—you can wait there. I'll go around to Thirty-first Street and sneak into some bushes on that side.”
I glanced over at Toni, saw her nodding, getting it straight. A terrible sensation started clawing at my heart, and I wanted to lean over, hold her, tell her we had to stop, that this was stupid.
“Just keep focused on the details you need to see this time around.”
This time around. Oh, Christ. This time around it had been so incredibly wonderful to see Toni. To understand Toni. To put Toni to rest.
“Yes, that's what all this is about—resolution.”
I reached out, opened my arms, said, “Be really careful, all right?”
“I will be. Don't worry.”
We embraced and kissed, her soft skin brushing my cheeks, and then our lips met, pressed together, and I sensed her warmth and wetness.
As I climbed out of the car, I said, “I'll be watching.”
I shut the door of my Honda, started away, my mind loaded with worry, and the nylon gym bag hanging from my shoulder loaded with the camera and the walkie-talkie.
“Can you hear me?” came a muffled voice from the unzipped gym bag.
I reached into the bag, hit a button on the walkie-talkie, and like a good Minnesotan said, “You betcha.”
“Good, then these things work. Stay tuned. I'm putting the tape back on.”
After that we said nothing. Which was what we'd agreed to, how we were going to handle it. We didn't want to attract any attention, least of all Tyler's, so we were going to be as cool as possible about the walkie-talkies. I was only to receive from Toni, and to make sure of that, we'd taped down the talk button on Toni's unit. She was going to leave the car, and we didn't want her fiddling with any buttons, for it was possible that Tyler would see her early, and we most certainly didn't want to alert him to my nearby presence. That was our best college thinking, anyway, though it did mean that it would be impossible for me to reach her.
So I headed north on James, walking along through the cool spring night like I was just an ordinary joe out for an evening walk, and then cut over on Thirty-first Street. It was pretty much the same here—the road ended and there were the same bushes and trees, and the same kind of stairs. I descended the concrete steps, and before me the oval Lake Calhoun spread out, bordered on one side by the lights of Lake Street, the rest dotted with lampposts. The waters gently poked at the shores. A calm evening. At the bottom of the stairs I glanced to the right and saw the lights surrounding the stucco boathouse, which would soon be smelling of little but popcorn and engulfed by nothing but sunbathers. I turned a sharp left, continued along the edge of the bike path.
From the gym bag I heard a slamming noise. A car-door-closing noise. At first the bang made my heart jolt, but then I heard footsteps. So Toni was on her way. Here we go, I thought.
Up ahead, near the beach, I thought I saw a figure. Or was it a tree? No, that was a person. Tyler? No. There were two people there, walking along, out for an evening walk, proceeding down the pedestrian path, gabbing about life. Yes, a man and a woman walking briskly, probably doing the whole lake, three-some miles. Real Minneapolitans, out for a spin around the lake, such a tradition here, these two not waiting for brazen summer, just a night when there wasn't snow and ice. And not suspecting a thing. Not realizing that anyone could be in danger down here tonight. As they walked along, their arms flapped, tongues blathered, gabbing while Toni was stepping right into trouble.
I stepped off the path, moved up against the edge of the bushes, blended my shadow into the leaves. Once the people were gone, I moved on toward the stairs from Thirty-second Street, nearing the beach with every step. I paused once, lifted the gym bag to my ear, heard Toni's steps. So far, no problems.
Again up ahead I noticed a shaft of darkness. I slowed, then stopped, pulled over, stepped into the bushes. The stairs were just another thirty feet or so ahead, and that odd figure or shadow lingered maybe a hundred feet away. Then vanished. Nothing. Only darkness. Oh, Christ, had Tyler plotted the way we had, had he salt-and-peppered this dark area with Dragons? I paused in fearful thought. If that wasn't Tyler or any part of his group, then who could have been scoping this murky part of the park?
My heart began to bubble, to roll like I'd had too much coffee. I turned toward the lake, saw nothing but a flat sheet of black, then pressed deeper into the bushes. I put the gym bag down on some leaves, took out the walkie-talkie, lifted it to my ear. Steps. Toni's, of course. I heard them through the little speaker, and then I heard them for real. She was right there now, right at the top of the stairs. I peered through the leaves, caught sight of her, watched as she began her way down, one gritty step at a time. As she descended into the park, I looked around, saw the pale sands of the beach, the water, and the empty guard stand, that tower-monument of the summer months. But no one else.
Wait. I heard pounding steps, heavy breathing. I stood up in the bushes. Jesus, was someone coming after her already? No. A jogger. I saw him, brief nylon shorts, light jacket, breath puffing, steaming slightly into the April air. He pounded by, and disappeared, a misfired threat zinging through the night.
So now again there was just Toni and perhaps that other shadow, the one I'd seen but lost. Toni was at the bottom of the stairs, crossing first the bike path and next the pedestrian path as she headed for the beach. I kept the walkie-talkie pressed to my ear, and reached down, lifted out her camera, looped the strap over my head. Then popped the lens cap, lifted the camera to my eye. Squinted and s
aw nothing. Total blackness. Toni said it would probably be that way, that I probably wouldn't be able to see a thing through the viewfinder, but that was okay. At such short notice, we couldn't find an infrared lens, only the film, but that would work, she'd assured me. All I had to do was point it in the general direction, set the focus on infinity, and shoot. The film would pick up the images. Well, she'd said, perhaps just the naked skin—the faces, the hands. Perhaps not the clothing, but for our purposes that would be good enough. In case there was trouble, we just wanted to have some pictures. Proof positive. In case Tyler went ballistic, in case there were any other Dragons, in case… ?
I lowered the camera, peered out there. Yes. Toni.
There she was. I saw her shadow going toward the beach, skirting the sand, and moving nearer to the bench. The one right over by those two trees. She went there, just as we had discussed. I both saw her and heard her via the walkie-talkie. The swish of her. The breathing of her.
Wait. Down there, to the left and behind Toni. Oh, shit. What was that? Who was that? There it was again, that shadow I'd seen and lost. The figure of a woman? Possibly. Or wait, could that be Tyler? It shouldn't be. Not yet. We were early. He wasn't due here for at least another ten minutes. I didn't like this. Toni was sitting on the bench, the figure, the person, behind her and unseen. I wanted to warn Toni, tell her to turn around, someone was back there, but there was no way I could get any kind of warning to her without blowing my presence.
I glanced back. What? My heart seized, then charged. That shadow was gone again. I scanned the park, the short wintry grass, the bushes and trees. No one. Nothing. Not good. Definitely not good. The time dripped by. Minutes later, squinting, tilting it to catch what little light there was, I checked my watch. Anytime now. If Tyler were actually going to show, it could be any moment. I trembled. Any moment, too, I feared the serenity of this park would explode into disaster.
Death Trance Page 22
