Cookie Cutter Man (10 page)

Bad Religion thundered over the stereo as he drove, eager to
be done for the day and relaxing on his couch, as much as he could relax these
days, anyway.

“Hi baby,” Echo called from the kitchen when he came in. He
greeted her with a hug and a kiss and put his case up in the closet. He got his
tray out and sat on the couch, rolling a joint. Echo sat down next to him, put
one hand on his leg and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“How was your day?” he asked her.

“It was OK. I talked to Teresa.”

“Oh yeah?” Daniel licked the joint and roasted it a little
before lighting up.

“Yeah, she just got a waitress job downtown at Phatty’s.”

“What happened to that other place? Dante’s whatever?”
Daniel took a healthy puff and put the joint in Echo’s mouth.

“Dante’s Shilling? Yeah, she made good money but she said
the owners freaked her a bit. She thinks they’re a crime family or something, I
don’t know.”

“Crime family? Have you been down there?”

“No, I hear it’s quite the place though. T told me
loads
of famous people are in all the time. She saw Shelley Long in there once.”

“Shelley— the actress, right? From
Bird on a Wire
?”
Daniel asked.

“No, that was Goldie Hawn. Shelley Long was in uh,
Troop
Beverly Hills
and
Hello Again
. And
Cheers
.” Echo took a hit.

“Who else?” Daniel asked, breathing out a cloud of smoke.

“What?” Echo asked, laughing.

“Who else has been in there? Famous people?”

“Oh. Uh ... I ... forget. Jesus, this weed is killer. Oh,
she said Dave Chappelle was in there, once. And Edward Norton.”

“Wait, Ed Norton was in there and you
lead
with
Shelley Long?” Daniel asked. They both laughed and Daniel had a moment of panic
when his vision seemed to double and it was like he was looking through two
sets of eyes. He closed them, opened them, and they were clear.

“Anyway, I told her we’d come in tonight for dinner. Wanna?”
Echo looked up at him and smiled her smile. It was a deadly weapon, long range
with a brutal accuracy. She didn’t use it often, more out of compassion for him
than anything else. It was a smile that was perfect and pure and maybe a little
greedy. It said,
I love you and I don’t really ask for much but this means a
lot to me
, and there was no way he could deny it.

They finished the joint and an hour later they were parked
in a garage. They walked the four blocks to Phatty’s Bar and Grill, enjoying
the night.

They reached the pub. Daniel relaxed easily in the backyard
barbecue aura about the place; it reminded him of Denver keg parties and his
old friends.

The hostess was dressed like the St. Paulie’s girl and gave
Daniel a hungry look as they entered, then Teresa spotted them and led them to
an empty table in her section. The food was outstanding. Daniel thought it was
maybe the best cheeseburger he’d ever eaten.

The dinner went smoothly, all calm and casual, until a
waitress collided with a groping old man, letting out a small shriek and
dropping the tray of drinks she was carrying. The glassware exploded on the
floor, making Daniel jump and curse.

In apology, the manager brought over a free round of drinks.
The two of them finished up, tipped well, and were off, back into the cooling
night.

They had gone about a block when a pigeon landed on the
sidewalk ahead of them, pecked once at a peanut, and strutted out of their way
as they passed, its head cocked to look up at them. Daniel looked down at it
out of the corner of his eye and was suddenly covered in gooseflesh. He didn’t
want to turn around and stare, but it looked just like the bird Rob had shown
him.

I cannot confirm nor deny these reports, Daniel thought.

It’s just a bird
.

They kept walking. Daniel pushed the thought of the bird out
of his mind, and it stayed out until they’d gone another block and a pigeon landed
on the sidewalk in front of them, pecked once at nothing and walked its
strutting walk out of their way as they passed, its head cocked to look up at
them.

Daniel turned his head with the gutterbird as it walked out
of their way, even slowing down a touch to get a better look at it. He was
positive it was the same kind of bird he had watched Rob open with a scalpel.
He let go of Echo’s hand and went after it, pulling back his foot, hearing the
servos click as the cameras in its eyes tracked his movements. He took one
lunging step forward and the bird blinked once before he kicked the little
fucker soccer style, full on, right in the chest. It squawked horribly as it
bounced off a low concrete wall surrounding a planter full of flowers.

WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE
—

“ —you doing!” the stranger and Echo shouted at the same
time, the two voices ringing in his ear and mind, creating a sickly harmony
that cut through his skull and brought on a crippling headache.

He watched a small pool of blood and mechanical oil form
around the crushed ball of feathers and beak. The bird cooed in a way that was
quickening in pace and fading in volume.

Daniel swore he could hear
click click click
, the
sounds of a broken machine.

“You stupid asshole!” Echo cried and slapped him hard on the
back. His headache got worse and now his stomach felt uneasy.

“Oh, shit.” His knees almost buckled. He managed to stay on
his feet but his head spun and then he shook it, cleared it. If it
was
a
camera, then someone might be coming. “We need to get out of here.”

“How could you ... Daniel, you ...”

He looked at her and another part of his soul dried up,
another piece of it that he would never get back. It was that much less he
could ever feel for himself or for someone else.

“I ...” His vision doubled again, and then trebled.

“Baby?” Echo asked in a small voice.

She quadrupled, and he blinked, and the first tears he’d
cried in a very long time squeezed out of his eyes, so big they hurt, it was
like crying wet marbles, the two tears leaving hot tracks as they rolled down
his face and away into nothingness. He cried out that small piece of his soul
and it splashed on the pavement below. He turned and looked at the bird and
cried freely. He cried for what he had done if it really was
just
a
bird, some poor helpless pigeon, and for what it meant if the bird was really a
camera like he thought it was. Mostly he cried for himself, because he couldn’t
get the voices out of his head.

The bird stopped moving and made no noise. Lying flat on its
back with the two scaly feet splayed in the air, it looked exactly like the one
Rob had cut open and pulled a fiber optic wire from.

All he could hear was the stranger, laughing.

“Daniel ... baby?” Echo had started crying too. She hugged
him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, his wiry body hopping with sobs he
had no control over. “I’m so sorry.” His words were barely decipherable. Daniel
buried his face in his hands in the classic picture of sorrow and took deep
breaths, getting himself back together. Echo pulled on his hand and wrapped her
arm around his waist, leading him back toward the car. A police siren wailed in
the distance, not getting closer or farther away, just going off into the night
like a never-ending accusation. They drove home in silence.

Echo slept in the bedroom and Daniel voluntarily slept on
the couch. She hadn’t asked him to, and he hadn’t offered. He just didn’t
bother going to bed.

The next morning she woke him up and they talked. He told
her he would go see the doctor again. He apologized for kicking the pigeon, but
was only sorry that she had seen him do it. He got his case and went to work.

Nothing happened until around 10 that morning when a
navy-blue S.U.V. slowed in front of the building and dropped a man off. Daniel
eyed him through the telescope and when the mark turned to shut the car door,
got a full frontal view of his face. It was David Bailey, without a doubt.

Daniel jotted down the make and model of the S.U.V. plus the
license number before it pulled away from the curb. He had a strong urge to
follow the guy into the building, but scrapped the idea. He waited a full five
minutes after his target disappeared into the hollow plaster guts of the
concrete monster.

“I’m going in,” Daniel said into a walkie-talkie and
re-clipped it to his belt. He received no response, but he knew they were
listening. After checking his back-up piece, he stuffed the Glock in his pants,
pulling his t-shirt over it when he got out of the truck. He got to the
entryway of the upscale building and realized he had to be buzzed in.

Daniel muttered obscenities under his breath and turned to
go sit in the truck and think when a young couple came up the steps. He dug
deep in his pockets, giving them a lame grin and stepping aside when they
reached the door, the female selecting a key off her ring.

Daniel pulled his keys out of his pocket and fumbled through
them. The couple waited for him, smiling patiently. Daniel dropped his keys and
bent to pick them up, going through the pantomime of not being able to find the
right key again.

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel said. “I just moved in.”

“Oh, welcome to the building!” The girl said, all chipper
and annoying.

“Thank you!” Daniel said. “I can’t believe this, my old
building didn’t have a lobby, so I’m not used to needing a second key. I think
I left it upstairs.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” the woman said, waving his
concern away. “Let me.”

“Thank you, so much,” Daniel said, taking another step back.

“What apartment did you get?” she asked, stepping up to the
lobby door.

“Uh, five-fifteen,” Daniel said. She was about to put her
key in the lock but stopped.

“Five-fifteen?” the woman asked. “
I
live in
five-fifteen.” The couple stared at him a little harder.

Dumb fucking luck! “Did I say five-fifteen?
Wow
. That
was at my
old
building. Here I’m three-oh-nine.” There was a very
awkward pause and then the couple began to laugh; he joined them and wiped
nervous sweat off his brow. She opened the door and made insipid small talk
while they waited for the elevator, and once they got on she continued to
squawk. He tried not to be rude and stared at the Elevator Shuts Down In Case
Of Fire sign above the buttons until he could escape onto the third floor. When
the door slid shut he collapsed against the wall for a moment and breathed a
sigh of relief.

“
I
live in five-fifteen,” Daniel mocked in falsetto
as he headed toward the east stairwell. He went up the stairs to the top floor,
only to find the door locked from the other side.

“Mother
fuck
!” Daniel slammed his hand against the
wall; but then he had an idea. He’d chosen the east stairwell initially because
he knew from looking at the blueprints of the building that Bailey’s apartment
was adjacent to them. It was with this fact in mind that Daniel drew his gun,
and then pulled the fire alarm. He stepped aside and stood back against the
wall, took the safety off the Nine, and racked the slide. The alarm brayed on
and on. It seemed an eternity that he stood there motionless in all the noise
until the door finally popped open. Daniel got one look at the man’s face and
pistol-whipped it.

David Bailey cried out as he sprawled on the deep-pile
carpeting, already reaching for his gun. Daniel kicked him in the face and
leveled the Glock. Blood flowed from a cut on Bailey’s temple and from his nose
and mouth.

“Not so fast, Doughboy. Get up.”

Bailey again reached for his gun. Daniel took a step forward
and stomped the G-man’s testicles.

“Gawwwww!” Bailey’s eyes rolled back in his head and his
hand went as far away from his gun as possible. “I-I’m a federal agent!”

“Fucking low-life to me,” Daniel said. “Get up.”

Bailey stood shakily, holding himself up with the wall. The
fire alarm went on. “Wh-what about the fire?”

“
Fire
? Bitch, I thought you went to Harvard.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I want you to shut the fuck up and go back to your
apartment. But first I want you to drop your piece on the floor.”

Bailey slowly drew his gun and dropped it on the ground.

“You carry handcuffs? Sure you do. Take ‘em out,” Daniel
ordered. Bailey spat out a tooth and did as he was told. Jamming his knee into
the G-man’s back and shoving his face against the wall, Daniel cuffed and
frisked him, taking another gun from a back holster and one off his ankle. He
pulled a switchblade off Bailey’s other ankle; ivory handle, silver button,
very nice.

“A switchblade? Agent Bailey! This is contraband!” Daniel
feigned shock and put the knife in his pocket.

“Listen, I don’t think you understand the penalties—”

Daniel interrupted by grabbing a handful of the kneeling
man’s hair and slamming his face against the wall. Bailey groaned and started
to pass out, keeling over to one side. Daniel grabbed his ear and twisted it
until he came screaming back up to his knees.

“Stand up, cocksucker. It’s time I got a look at your
place.” He hauled the agent up by the back of the collar and shoved him down
the hall. Bailey snuffled blood through his broken nose and wobbled to his
penthouse flat.

This is madness.

Daniel ignored the voice in his head; for once, he agreed
with it.

“Uncuff me so I can get my keys,” Bailey said when they came
to the door.

Gotta give the guy credit for trying, right? Daniel asked
himself.

“Sorry, Davey. No can do. What I
can
do is put one
hand in your pocket to get your keys, and with my other hand I’m gonna be
pressing the barrel of this gun into your fucking
spine
. Dig?” Daniel
got the keys out of Bailey’s pocket, opened the door, and pushed him inside,
sticking his foot out and sending the G-man face-first into his own foyer. The
tiled entrance was a sterile ivory color, and a maroon cancer spilled across it
as Bailey’s blood pooled. Daniel took a look around. Open spaces, high ceilings
– all the comforts of a modern home. It was nice, if you liked Contemporary
Yuppie.