Enigma

by Catherine Coulter

  The terror she’d been through the day before came unbidden into her mind. She couldn’t escape it, not yet, sitting duct-taped in that chair, helpless, terrified she’d failed to protect her baby, because she’d been alone by her own choice. But he couldn’t hurt her now. He was in a coma on the third floor, a nurse assured her. They called him John Doe because he’d had no ID on him. Kara knew she’d have to speak to the police again, tell them everything she could remember, but not now. She looked over at the bassinet again and smiled. Alex was sleeping the sleep of angels.

  She slipped out of bed and walked quietly to his bassinet. She leaned down to lift the light blue blanket nearly covering his small face, to look at her gift from God.

  9

  “I asked you what you were doing here.” Mayer’s voice sounded calm enough, and that was a nice change. Maybe he wasn’t going to draw his weapon.

  Savich rose. “Good afternoon, Detective. I’m here to see how John Doe is doing.”

  “He’s in a freaking coma, that’s how he’s doing.” Mayer took a step forward, stopped. “You could have learned that from a telephone call.”

  “You could have called as well. So why are you here?”

  “What’s it to you? It’s my case, not yours. I’m here to see if he’s come around. The mutt’s got a lot to answer for. First off, I’d like him to tell me his name.”

  “No one has contacted you about him yet?”

  “Nope, no one, not a mental institution, or lockup, not his family. He doesn’t look homeless, so someone will come to claim him; they always do.”

  Mayer walked to the bed and looked dispassionately down at the motionless young man. “He looks almost dead. It might have been easier if you’d killed him. I see a bad future for him if he wakes up. Look at those needle marks on his arms. He’s already fried his veins, and now he’s looking at a long stretch in prison if he’s competent enough to stand trial. Have they told you anything about all the tests they’re doing on him?”

  Savich started to tell him there was no way John Doe had been shooting himself up, but decided to drop it. “No, only a trace of an antipsychotic drug left in his system.”

  Mayer turned at a voice he recognized outside the room. He listened, then rounded on Savich. “What is Officer Sharpe doing up here? You did that, didn’t you? Arranged for a police guard for this guy?”

  “Actually, Ben Raven arranged it.”

  “But you called Raven, didn’t you? You had no right to stick your freaking Fed nose into my business. Why are you even here, really? Playing the glory hound again?”

  Savich pictured Mayer in the fetal position on the floor, hugging his gut. He said easily, “I wondered why you haven’t interviewed me, asked me if I’d heard anything John Doe said that might help identify him.”

  “If you knew anything, you’d have shouted it to the cameras. Besides, who gives a crap what a crazy man rants? He was obviously off his meds—I heard him screaming about the gods this and the gods that, but none of it made any sense.” He paused a moment, thrust out his chin. “Everyone could see that. When I speak to Ms. Moody, I’m sure she’ll agree.”

  “He certainly appeared distraught, and yes, confused, but don’t you want to know why he seems to have broken out of a mental institution to rescue a pregnant woman from someone? And no one has claimed him?”

  “Nah, he wasn’t there to save anyone. He’s crazy. Look, I’ve got dead bodies piling up, Savich. Dead bodies with names, with families who need justice. This guy? When the folk from his funny farm arrive, they’ll tell us everything we want to know. They’ll have a thick file on him, count on it.” He shot Savich a look of cold dislike. “I can see you’re not going to give up on this; why, I don’t know. It’s not like you Feds don’t have enough of your own crap to deal with.” He frowned, then shrugged. “Okay, I did speak to Ms. Moody, but she said she’d never seen him before, that he wanted to take her away but she couldn’t figure out why because he was too confused. When the police showed up, he got frantic, made no sense at all. So I think he picked a random house to invade. That’s it. Nothing more, zip, nada. And if he ever wakes up, he’ll get carted back to where he came from, or off to prison in shackles, and this will all be over.”

  “Suppose it wasn’t a mental institution. That tag around his wrist could be from somewhere else. Someplace as far off the grid as he is.”

  “Oh, come on, get real. Now you’re talking conspiracies? You’re making something out of the rantings of a crazy guy. Why are you really here, Savich?”

  “Probably the same reason as you. I want to know who he is, what he is. I want to know what happened to him.”

  Mayer looked down at the still face. For an unguarded moment his defensive anger fell away. He said in a low voice, “He’s so bloody young. What, maybe twenty-two, twenty-five? So yeah, I want to know what happened to him, why he fell off the rails.” So Mayer was more concerned about this young man than he’d let on, but he wasn’t about to show that to Savich. Didn’t he realize he already had? Mayer shook his head. “You said you want to know what he is. What do you mean by that?”

  “To be honest, Detective, I don’t know what I meant.”

  “Well, it really isn’t any of your business anyway, is it? And you’re wasting taxpayer money, Metro money, on a guard without a reason.”

  “I heard him say some very odd things. I think there’s more going on here than his delusions. I’m worried the people he escaped from—” He paused, shook his head. “A couple of days. I’d like to keep him safe for a couple of days.”

  Savich looked down at the plastic wrist bracelet, then back over at Mayer. “Detective, what do you think of when you see or hear the word enigma?”

  Mayer scowled at him, shrugged again. “What’s this with word games, Savich? Everybody knows enigma was the code the Germans used back in World War Two. There was a movie about the Brit guy who broke it.”

  “Look at his ID band, Detective.”

  “What? You think this E stands for enigma?”

  “Possibly. An enigma can also be a person or a thing that’s mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand,” Savich said slowly. “John Doe called himself that—an enigma.”

  That gave Mayer pause, but only for a moment. “So what? Who cares? You think he’s a member of some kind of cryptology club? Some secret group? Get real, Savich. We’ll probably find out what he meant when he said that and laugh.” He drew himself up and leaned toward Savich. “In the meantime, I want you to stay away from him. He’s none of your concern.” Mayer grunted, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room.

  A police officer stuck his head in the room after he left. “Agent Savich? I’m Officer Tommy Sharpe. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He looked over his shoulder. “Detective Mayer isn’t happy.” Tommy didn’t sound particularly concerned.

  Savich shook his hand. “Officer Sharpe.”

  “Call me Tommy. Everybody does, even the dudes I arrest.” He paused, then added, “I wish they wouldn’t.” Sharpe wasn’t exactly green, but close, maybe a couple of years out of police academy. He looked strong as a young bull, and had a kid’s face the passing years would never change.

  “All right, Tommy.”

  Sharpe walked into the room and stood beside the bed. “I hear he’s the guy you took down yesterday in Georgetown. Doesn’t look like he’s going to be a lot of trouble to me. Can you tell me what to expect? Why you think he needs a guard?”

  Savich said, “I don’t have anything specific in mind, but I do know he was scared some people would be coming after him.”

  “And you don’t think that was because he’s crazy?”

  Savich smiled. “I don’t know if crazy’s the right word for him, but we’ll see. I’d rather listen to my gut than be sorry if this thing doesn’t end well. I’d appreciate your sticking close to him, not letting anyone near him you haven’t vetted first.”

  Sharpe nodded. “He’s very young.”

  �
�Yes, he is. About your age.”

  Sharpe gave him a big grin. “Nah, I’ve got at least two years on him.”

  Savich gave Officer Tommy Sharpe his cell number and took the elevator to the maternity floor. He showed his creds at the entrance to the maternity-unit security guard with the name Ray Hunter on his name tag. Ray’s head was topped with a crop of bright red hair, and he looked bored. A red eyebrow went up when Savich showed him his creds. “Any trouble here, Agent Savich?”

  “No, I’m here to see a new mother, Kara Moody.” Savich looked at his name tag again. “Why, Ray? Have you had any problems on the floor?”

  “Not since last week when an ex-husband tried to take his kid out of the unit by himself without checking with anybody. The infant security bands were still on the baby. Obviously the guy didn’t know the procedures to follow. The alarm went off and everything shut down as it was supposed to, the elevators, stairwells. It was a mess until we got him talked down and the baby back safe in his mother’s room.” He shook his head. “It’s sad we have to be here to guard a maternity ward against people out to steal babies, but it’s a strange world.”

  Savich gave Ray a salute and set off toward the nurses’ station to ask for Kara Moody’s room number. He heard loud voices down the hall and someone was screaming.

  It was Kara.

  10

  LONDON-CORBIN MAGEE FIELD

  LONDON, KENTUCKY

  MONDAY, LATE AFTERNOON

  Cam stepped forward, shook the chief’s big hand. “Chief Harbinger? I’m Agent Cam Wittier. This is Agent Jack Cabot.”

  They handed him their creds, watched him nod as he looked them over and handed them back. “Good to put faces to names. My name’s Quinn, but everybody calls me Chief. Just Chief. You okay with that?”

  “Not a problem, Chief,” Jack said.

  Chief turned, took his daughter’s hand. His voice was both irritated and admiring. “And this is my daughter, Kim. I think you know my daughter spotted Manta Ray and his two compadres walking into the national forest. We’ll be dropping her off at the London Ranger Station, where we’ll be picking up our guide, Head Ranger Wayne Duke—we call him Duke. I thought it might be useful to give you a chance to speak with Kim on the way over. In fact, she insisted on speaking with you in person, even said her lips were sealed after she came up with that idea. She’s just like her mom. I’ve learned from harsh experience it’s easier to cooperate.”

  Kim rolled her eyes and quickly stepped forward, a huge smile on her face, showing beautiful white teeth. She had a long blond ponytail and bright blue eyes, only a bit darker than Sherlock’s. Her cutoff jeans and sleeveless white shirt showed off her tan and a fit body. High-tops and heavy white socks polished off her presentation, a teen who spent a lot of time outdoors.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kim.” Cam shook her hand, handed Kim her creds. Jack did the same. It was a show of respect that made the teenager’s eyes widen with pleasure.

  Cam nodded toward Chief Harbinger. “When I was your age, Kim, I never got away with giving my dad ultimatums. I’ve always thought it was a pity.” Kim grinned at her father like a sinner who’d cleaned out the collection plate.

  “I didn’t, either,” Jack said. “My parents kept me so straight-arrow, joining the service was like a vacation.”

  He looked so badass, everyone laughed.

  Chief raised an eyebrow straight up. “She’s lucky it was a good idea,” he said and gave his daughter the stink-eye.

  “In any case, Kim,” Jack said, “we’re pleased you’ll be able to tell us about Manta Ray. His real name’s Liam Hennessey, and no, I don’t know where he got that moniker. First we want to know why you’re so certain it was Manta Ray you saw.”

  Chief looked at his watch. “Hold off on the questions until we get on our way to the London Ranger Station. As I said, we’re hooking up with Head Ranger Wayne Duke there, and meeting up with Harry Morsi. He sells most of the outdoor equipment in Pennington Gap. He’s bringing along everything we’ll need for several days, and nothing we won’t. Kim, Harry will be driving you back home.”

  “Or I could go in with you, Dad. You know I’m a really good hiker; I know the forest. I could—”

  “Kimmie, that’s not going to happen. Now I expect you to keep your word.”

  Cam watched Kim finally nod, but she didn’t look happy. The girl wanted adventure, but it wasn’t going to happen this time.

  Chief turned back to Cam and Jack. “One of Duke’s men will be driving us to East Branch Road, where we’ll head into the forest, hopefully before sunset. Since we’ll be in the woods, even the quarter moon won’t give us much light, so we’ll have to stop before long and pick up their trail tomorrow morning.”

  “Give me a minute,” Jack said and moseyed over to a man in overalls who was wiping his hands on a rag, looking the Skylane over. They had their heads together for maybe two minutes before the man nodded, and they shook hands. When Jack was back, he said, “My baby is in good hands. No worries.”

  Chief gave a little wave at the man in the overalls. “Hank Withers is as trustworthy as they come, seems to know everything there is to know about planes. Can’t say it hurts that it’s an FBI plane—he knows if something happens to it on his watch, he’ll be dog-paddling in the crapper.”

  Cam took one last look at the Skylane. “It’d be nice if your baby would grow up a bit while we’re gone, like twenty feet longer with an extra engine or two.”

  Jack patted her arm. “Trust me, I have a feeling that when we get back you’ll be happy to hop on board.”

  They stowed their backpacks in the back of the SUV, piled in, Cam in front with Chief Harbinger and Jack in the back with Kim. Chief pulled out of the airfield onto a two-lane blacktop. “If I’d turned right, we’d end up in Corbin. But we’re going on the main road to the London Ranger Station.” He shot her a grin. “Which doesn’t meant anything to you. Okay, Jack, Cam, fire away. Kim, answer their questions.”

  Jack said, “First, Kim, tell us why you’re so certain it was Manta Ray you saw walking into the forest.”

  Kim leaned toward him. “I’d seen this guy’s—Manta Ray’s—wanted poster in Dad’s office and remembered thinking what a waste because he was so handsome. My friend Pam and I, we’d just come out from East Branch Road. We’d spent the morning with some kids from town, hiking and picnicking. We were driving on the dirt road leading out, and I saw him plain as day, with two other guys. One of them was handing Manta Ray a dark wool cap. I couldn’t believe it. I guess I must have sucked in my breath because Pam assumed I knew them and started to stop, and I panicked, told her to get out of there fast. I called my dad right away.” She paused a moment. “I didn’t even think about snapping their photo until later. Sorry.”

  Jack said, “That must have been a moment, but you kept your head. You did good, Kim.”

  She beamed at him. “For a minute there, I thought they knew I was watching them and I nearly peed myself. But now I don’t think they were paying any attention to us. They were focused on getting into the forest.”

  Cam pulled out her cell, found a photo of Manta Ray and handed it to Kim. “This is the man you and Pam saw?”

  “Oh yes, that’s him.” She sighed. “He’s so hot, plus the poster said he’s from Ireland, even has an Irish accent. What a bummer he’s a criminal.”

  Jack said. “You said they were going into the forest. Did they have any kind of gear with them?”

  “Nope, they didn’t have any camping gear or backpacks. The two guys with Manta Ray were carrying small blue gym bags that looked brand-new. That was it, not even water bottles.”

  Jack knew there wasn’t underwear in those gym bags, there were weapons.

  Cam said, “I don’t suppose Manta Ray was still wearing prison orange?”

  “No orange. He had on jeans that looked so stiff they had to be right off the rack. His plaid shirt and hiking boots, too, everything looked brand-new. I guess he didn’t kno
w you never start on a long hike in brand-new boots.”

  “And the two men with him?”

  “Nothing special. Long-sleeve shirts, jeans, and those wool caps. Their clothes weren’t new, but not ratty, either.”

  Cam wondered if they were experienced hikers, if they could handle the wilderness, or if they were city raised, like Manta Ray.

  Cam said, “We assumed they’d be picking up gear and supplies once they were inside the forest, at some predesignated drop. That’s got to be what they did, then. They had Manta Ray’s escape well planned.”

  Chief said, “Kim, give Jack the folder.”

  Kim was sitting on it. She pulled it out, opened it. “Dad had me meet with Leo Pruitt, our local artist, to get these sketches done. Mr. Pruitt doesn’t spend much time on the planet, usually all he paints are rocks and bears, but he tried. They’re not bad, pretty right on, really, even though I only saw them for a few seconds.” She handed Jack a pencil drawing. “He didn’t draw Manta Ray; no need to.” Cam turned in her seat to look at the drawing in Jack’s hands. It showed a heavyset man with dark beard scruff and a buzz cut.

  “This man was taller than Manta Ray, and he looked hard and tough, you know? Like a thug.”

  “Manta Ray is a bit over six foot,” Cam said, “so this man was maybe six foot three?”

  Kim nodded. “Yes, he was big. He looked like he worked out in a gym, maybe used steroids. He had big, thick legs that stretched out his jeans, and I remember there was a small tear over his left knee.”

  Jack looked down at the drawing. “Too bad he was wearing sunglasses.”