Stone Junction (41 page)

‘Come see me,’ Volta said gently. ‘Take your time. They just discovered it’s missing. As far as we know, you’re clear. If it’s too complicated, I can always come to you. Tell me where and when.’

Daniel said quickly, ‘I can’t think now. I’m freezing. I’ll call again later.’ He hung up.

Volta eased the receiver back into the cradle. He shut his eyes and inhaled slowly. ‘You lost him,’ he said. THE THERAPEUTIC JOURNALS OF JENNIFER RAINE APRIL 2 (EVENING)

My name is Jennifer Raine, Malinche Cortez Rainbow, Sandra Dee,
Emily X, Desiree Knott. Still crazy after all these years, huh girls?

This afternoon Doc Putney tried to be more aggressive with me.
Wasn’t surprised. Men have one of two responses to me – flight or
fight. I was telling him about the lightning-strike scar I got when my
father was killed. It’s right at the base of my spine, shaped just like a
lightning bolt. I was telling him I wasn’t killed too because when the
lightning hit my brain and shot down my spine, the small of my back
was touching the boat, and pulled out just enough juice to save me. I
mean, I don’t blame the lightning. It just wants to get to the bottom of
the lake. If it doesn’t connect, it can’t go home.

Anyway, Doc Putney challenged me about the scar, but he did it all
wrong. He said, ‘You don’t have a scar, Jennifer.’

So I stood up and turned around and lifted the grey smock over my
head. I wasn’t wearing anything else. I like my body close. Nakedness
is one of my highest powers. I don’t mean the foxy chick-trick of turning
slowly, arms crossed, lifting with a little wriggle and then dropping a
dress on the floor. I’m not good at being sexy. But I know how to be
naked, so naked you can’t even see my body.

Doc Putney must have almost swallowed the pencil he’s always
chewing on because he kind of croaked, ‘Jennifer, put on your clothes.’

I told him, ‘Look at my scar.’ I reached back with my right hand
and touched it so he’d know where to look.

The Doc got agitated. ‘
There is no scar,’
he said, hitting every word
like he was talking to a child. I don’t even talk to Mia like that.

I stood there so naked I could feel the scar begin to glow. Finally
he came around his desk and picked up my smock and handed it to
me. He looked in my eyes – with more courage than I thought he had
– and said with real gentleness, ‘There is no scar. Put on your dress
now. Please.’

The ‘please’ intimated what a glance at his crotch confirmed – he
had a serious hard-on.

‘I showed my scar,’ I told him. ‘Let me see your cock. Let’s
play, Doctor.’

I couldn’t resist. Scared him though – reminded him he was a doctor.
Compromising Situation with a Female Patient.

‘No,’ he said. ‘This session is over.’ And he walked out. It was more
of a controlled bolt. At the door he turned and said, ‘You should write
about your feelings toward men.’

Depends on the man, Doc. And me.

Before he even opened his eyes, Volta could tell by the ring that the call was the inside line. Probably Smiling Jack or Ellison. He picked up the receiver without enthusiasm. ‘Allied Furnace Repair.’

‘Glad you gave it up and got some sleep.’ It was Jack.

‘I didn’t give it up. He called.’

Smiling Jack waited. ‘And?’

‘I don’t know. More exactly, he doesn’t know. I think the Diamond overwhelmed him. He said he’d call back.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He didn’t say. Sounded like a phone booth, so I’m assuming he’s on the road and moving.’

Smiling Jack said nothing for a moment. ‘Since you didn’t call, I guess we’re playing him loose. Or letting him loose.’

‘I think it’s fair for now,’ Volta said. ‘Not that we have much choice.’

Jack sighed. He hated to deliver bad news. ‘We have a choice now. They’ve got his cover, everything but the truck’s make and license plate number.’

Volta sat up in the chair. ‘How?’

‘You’re not going to believe it.’

‘I believe everything that happens.’

‘The president himself – though rumor has it the pressure came from his wife, through her astrologer – insisted they call in that weirdo Dredneau. According to a reliable source, he fucking
deduced
it from the plunger mark on the ceiling.’

‘That’s an astonishing deduction.’

‘Yeah,’ Jack agreed, ‘I thought so. Of course, I don’t have much skinny on this Dredneau, except he dresses out of the nineteenth century, has a certain dramatic flair, and evidently knows his shit. Sounds like your kind of guy.’

Volta was thinking. ‘That’s an impossible deduction. Change the code right now. Damn – I should have done it a month ago. Keep the frequency rotation, though.’

‘If we’re piped, might as well pour shit in their ear, huh?’

‘And I think we should have a go-between ready with Daniel. He hasn’t said so directly, but he doesn’t trust me.’

‘Wild Bill.’

‘He’d be my choice, too, if we’d heard from him in the last five months.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Jack said. ‘Or Dolly.’

‘Thanks, Jack, but we need you for Dredneau, and Dolly for Shamus, though he seems to have broken contact. Let’s gamble. How about Charmaine? She has a hook in him somewhere.’

‘I thought you said a go-between, not a persuader.’

‘A go-between can take many roles. Not knowing which may prove appropriate, why not provide for diverse possibilities?’

‘Hey,’ Jack said, noting Volta’s testiness, ‘I’m convinced.’

‘I think I’m too old for this, Jack. And I think I’m glad.’

‘I second them emotions. Take me with you.’

‘Sure, if there’s anything left of us when this one’s done. Till then, I’ll wait for another phone call, you and whoever you need can surround our cryptographic Canadian, keep Jean open for assignment, and let Ellison handle the rest. I’m assuming the code was blown, but it might have been a hole in the cover. Run it backwards just in case. Put Ashley Bennington on that. And Lyle.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Not that I can think of. You?’

‘Nothing to
do
,’ Jack said, ‘but there is something I’m curious about.’

Volta knew what it was. ‘Jack, you don’t have to be coy.’

‘Did Daniel happen to mention how he pulled it off?’

‘I inquired. He said, and I quote entirely, “I used my imagination.”’

‘I’m really looking forward to retiring with you. Just drifting in a boat on a good trout lake while I listen to you tell me all about magic and the secrets of the art.’

‘I’ll tell you everything I can.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Jack said. ‘And after that I’ll have to use my imagination?’

‘I’ll ask Daniel when he calls,’ Volta said.

Roshi Igor, whose real name was Roger Kingman, was eating pizza – a Navajo Jumbo, the specialty of the hotel: salami, pepperoni, anchovies, and sausage, smothered with thinly sliced garlic under a half-pound of blue cheese. Roshi Igor was enjoying it immensely. Dredneau, on the other side of the table, was not. He looked up from the security diagrams. ‘Really, Roger; my eyes are beginning to water.’

‘Sorry, boss,’ Igor grunted. He moved over to the couch.

Dredneau sipped his claret. He’d figured out how Isaiah Kharome had gotten by the guards. The nerve gas had evidently caused total amnesia as well as paralysis. He didn’t know how he’d negotiated the alarms, but Dredneau’s electronic specialists had assured him any alarm could be bypassed. That left the vault, and for that he needed more information. Keyes had said the Seabrooke designer would arrive by midnight. It was already nine minutes past. And his radio monitors hadn’t called, which meant dead air. If the code or frequencies had been rotated he’d need a compelling explanation for his sudden loss of deductive powers. He didn’t like that prospect. Irritably, he opened his gold-and-ivory snuffbox and inhaled a delicate pinch. The phone rang just as he sneezed into his pale silk handkerchief. He let it ring again before he answered, ‘Paul-Paul Dredneau.’

It was the desk clerk. The Seabrooke man was downstairs.

‘Indeed,’ Dredneau said. ‘He may ascend.’

‘The vault guy?’ Igor asked. He licked the last bit of sauce from his fingers.

‘He’ll be up in a moment. And Roger – do keep in mind there’s no reason to overplay your part.’

‘It’s boring being dumb.’

‘I’m sure. But persevere.’

Igor jerked his head at the knock. ‘You want me to get it?’

‘No. Intimidation serves no purpose here. Sit and listen.’

‘Paul-Paul Dredneau?’ Gurry Debritto smiled uncertainly, blinking behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

‘I am,’ Dredneau bowed. ‘And you must be the long-awaited Mr Sahlin.’

‘Yes sir. From Seabrooke.’ He lifted the black attaché case in his hand a few inches, as if offering proof.

Dredneau introduced Igor, offered refreshments, and suggested they work at the table. As he sat down, Dredneau said, ‘I assume you’ve examined the vault?’

‘Yes sir, a few hours ago.’ Debritto, still standing, set the attaché case on the table and worked the combination.

‘Any preliminary conclusions?’

‘I have my notes and some photographs, but it might be useful to match them with the blueprints you requested.’

‘Of course. Excuse my impatience, but the president expressed some urgency.’

Debritto opened the case lid, removed a thin folder, and handed it to Dredneau, explaining, ‘These are the bare structural blueprints and these’ – he reached into the case – ‘include the alarms.’

Dredneau flipped open the folder. Before he could react to the blank page, Debritto knocked him unconscious with a sharp chop to the neck.

Igor was still uncoiling from the couch when the slug from the silenced .357 shattered his skull. He swayed uncertainly for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to sit back down, then toppled backward onto the couch as another bullet tore into his chest. He was still trying to rise when Debritto quickly crossed the room and finished him off.

When Dredneau opened his eyes ten minutes later the first thing he saw was the attaché case turned to face him. Neatly strapped on the upraised lid was a gleaming row of instruments – scalpels, pliers, scissors, and long stainless-steel acupuncture needles. In the bottom of the case, beside an assortment of vials and syringes, was a small, compact meter with a wire running from it. Still dazed, he traced the wire to the electrode taped to the inside of his thigh. He was naked, he realized, his hands tied behind him on the chair, his feet pulled back and bound to the chair’s braces. He moaned, ‘Roger…’

‘Roger is indisposed,’ Debritto whispered in his ear. ‘If you make another sound, you will suffer. We’re professionals, Dredneau, you and I. I respect your intelligence enough to assume you know that you have lost. As you see, you are connected to a polygraph. You will answer my questions with the truth. If you refuse, or if you lie, I will remove a part of your body – a kneecap, say, or an eye, a testicle, a finger. Believe me when I say I know what I’m doing. I’ve kept men alive up to thirty hours as I’ve whittled them down to a head and torso. If you still refuse, it will make no difference, for in that case I’ll use pentothal – vulgarly known as truth serum. I’d prefer not to resort to an injection; while the information would be forthcoming, it is occasionally garbled. If you force me to use the pentothal, when I have the information I seek I will treat you accordingly. Further, if you
once
raise your voice above a civilized conversational tone – which would be futile considering the Hilton’s acoustical design – I will cut out your tongue and we will have to proceed with a primitive system of nods.
Please
, employ your legendary intelligence. You do understand that you’re faced not only with a choice between truth and falsehood, but life and death.’

Dredneau nodded.

‘The first question, then: Who stole the diamond?’

Dredneau, trembling, bit his lip.

Debritto mused, ‘He must not have heard me. I better check his eardrums.’ He reached past Dredneau and removed a long silver pin from the case.

Dredneau quavered, ‘You’re going to kill me anyway.’

‘You didn’t listen, sir.
Professional
? A professional never kills unless it’s absolutely necessary. In your case, it isn’t necessary. All I want is information pertinent to this diamond I’ve been engaged to find.’

Dredneau shook his head.

‘Of course,’ Debritto whispered. ‘Given your situation, why should you take my word? Please note the polygraph.’ Debritto tipped the case so Dredneau could see it clearly. ‘The machine is state-of-the-art. Watch the needle – the red area indicates a lie. Is your name Paul-Paul Dredneau?’

Dredneau licked his lips. ‘Yes.’

The needle didn’t move.

‘Have you ever killed a man?’

‘Yes.’

The needle jumped into the red zone.

Debritto chuckled softly. ‘I didn’t think so. Next question: Are you a homosexual?’

‘No.’

The needle wavered near the red zone.

‘Now see, this is interesting. You seem to possess some profound sexual ambiguity.’ He pointed the pin at Dredneau’s groin as if to indicate the locus of confusion. ‘Let me rephrase the question: Have you ever had sex with another male?’

‘No.’

The needle shot into the red.

Debritto giggled. ‘Ah-ha! How many?’

‘Two. When I was young.’

The machine verified it.

‘I could ask you about women, but truly I’m not interested in humiliating you, and I’m sure you understand by now the machine’s capacity to discriminate. So, to my point.’ Debritto set the pin down on the table and deftly jerked the electrode from Dredneau’s thigh and held it to his own wrist. ‘The inside of the wrist is actually more sensitive than the thigh, but since your hands must be bound, I’d no choice. Now watch the needle while I make my statement.’