The Inquisitor: A Novel (20 page)

Right now, the only person who seemed knowable to Harry was Geiger. Even though yesterday’s bizarre act had sent Harry’s world off its axis, Geiger was still his only hope, the one hand that could pull him out of free fall. Geiger was all he had left.

Harry’s fingers went to the keyboard.

*   *   *

Ezra was still so frightened he couldn’t sit still. He wandered through Geiger’s loft, staring at the intricate floor as a way to control his panic. Geiger had been in the closet long enough for the CD player to finish a Honegger sonata and get halfway through Fauré’s Sonata in E Minor. But Ezra had no idea whether the music was helping. The attack had come so suddenly and looked so violent that to him it seemed entirely possible that death would be the final result.

Ezra opened the closet door. Geiger’s fetal position made it difficult to tell if he was breathing, so Ezra gently nudged Geiger’s shin with his sneaker’s toe. Geiger’s left arm instantly pulled his knees in tighter against his chest; he curled up like a pill bug expecting an imminent attack.

“Are you asleep?” Ezra whispered.

He took a step inside and sat down beside Geiger. Leaning back, he stared at himself in the mirrors. That was what his father was: a visible but untouchable reflection. He was a two-weeks-a-year presence, or a voice on the phone, or an IM partner. A burst of heat ran down Ezra’s back, equal parts anger and fear. He wondered where his father was. He wished he was dead; he prayed he was safe. He hated him for his selfishness. It had put Ezra in this closet, and now monsters prowled the streets, searching for his scent.

Ezra rose. Careful not to jostle Geiger, he went to the desk and sat in Geiger’s chair in front of the computer. The AIM icon at the bottom of the monitor beckoned him. He clicked it, signed in as Guest, and set up a message to BigBossMan, the name on the account his father used for their sessions.

Ezra glanced over at Geiger’s dark, tucked figure, and then typed:

GUEST
: Its EZBoy. Where are you?

He clicked “send” and sat back, staring at the boarded-up windows before him. No light made its way through, and only ghosts of the street’s shrillest sounds crept in past the soundproofing.

The
ping
of an incoming message straightened Ezra’s spine. He took a breath and leaned toward the screen. The upper right-hand quadrant displayed the message in a small, sans-serif font.

STICKLER
: hey. its me.

Stickler? Ezra sank back into the soft leather. Who was Stickler? The greeting seemed personal, even intimate. Ezra’s hands reached out to the keyboard but only hovered there, his concentration failing him. For a moment he felt almost nauseous with fear—for himself, for his father, for the man in the closet. If Geiger didn’t wake up, what then? Ezra had no idea where he was, but he did know that he was locked in from the inside.

Ezra took a long breath and let his fingers fall to the keys.

*   *   *

Harry stared at the message.

GGGG
: who are you?

This was absurdity of a new sort, the kind of cosmic joke only a petty God with too much time on his hands would stoop to pull. Harry was so astonished, he spoke aloud without realizing it.

“What the
fuck
?”

Heads all around the café rose, eyes swiveling to locate the boor. Even Lily looked up from her scone project, licking her fingers like a cat cleaning its paws. Harry ignored the gawkers and started typing.

STICKLER
: who am
i
? who are
you
?

GGGG
: this isnt geiger. im ezra.

STICKLER
: the kid that got snatched?

GGGG
: yes. who are you?

STICKLER
: harry. geigers friend. where is he? go get him, right now.

GGGG
: hes sleeping.

STICKLER
: wake him up.

GGGG
: im scared to. something happened to him. something bad.

STICKLER
: whats that mean?

GGGG
: he was really freaky. he had a kind of fit.

STICKLER
: fit?

GGGG
: screaming and stuff, on his knees. in terrible pain. sort of blinded. then he crawled into a closet and went to sleep on the floor.

Harry stopped. Had Geiger had a stroke? A heart attack? An epileptic seizure? But even as he wondered what had happened, Harry realized that he wasn’t shocked at the thought that Geiger might have had a meltdown. The episode at the session room and the decision to take the kid with him had only been a preview. For years he’d thought of Geiger as a man whose enormous strength was matched only by the massive weight of his burdens. Had they finally brought him to his knees? At the first rub of the question, Harry knew he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Harry started typing again.

STICKLER
: ill come there then. where are you?

GGGG
: what do you mean? im at geigers.

STICKLER
: i know.
where
is that?

GGGG
: i dont know. I was blindfolded when he brought me in and all the windows are boarded up. i cant see outside. how come you don’t know? i thought you were his friend.

Harry rummaged around in the place where he kept his meager stock of patience, but the cupboard was almost bare. He was stretched thin, fed up with his own trespasses more than anyone else’s. And dealing with kids always gave him the heebie-jeebies. Their transparency made him feel clumsy, artless. He was going to have to walk a tightrope to the boy.

STICKLER
: listen, kid. i know youre scared. i dont blame you. but i am his friend. ive just never been to his place. remember there was another guy there when he put you in the car? that was me.

GGGG
: okay. but how are you going to find me? i dont know where i am and im locked in here.

STICKLER
: ill think of something.

GGGG
: hurry.

Frustrated, Harry slammed his palm down on the counter, sending a loud
whomp
rolling through the place. Lily twitched and heads bobbed back up.

“Jesus Christ!” he growled.

The Asian counter guy arrived, hovering at his side, espresso-stained fingers tugging at the beard surrounding his frown.

“You’re making too much noise, mister,” he said. “Much too much.”

Harry said nothing, his eyes locked on the screen.

“Hey, mister? Hear me?”

Harry looked up, molars fused. One word escaped through his teeth. “Yeah?”

“You’re making too much noise.”

“Was I? Sorry.”

“So no more yelling,” said the counter guy. “People don’t want to hear that. Okay?”

Harry placed his palms on the counter and took a shaky breath.

“I heard you,” he said. “No more yelling. I got it.”

“Okay,” said the counter guy, and then he leaned toward Lily, who sported a coating of crumbs from her lips to her lap. “And please, lady. Can you try and be a little neater?” His finger directed her nonexistent attention to a sign on the wall that read,
PLEASE KEEP FOOD OFF THE COMPUTERS
. He nodded at her. “Okay, lady? Thanks very much.”

Harry rose from his chair and came nose to nose with the counter guy. He was suddenly so angry that he felt as light as a feather, almost giddy with malice.

“Listen, man,” he said. “I’ll finish soon as I can, without another sound, and then we’ll leave. But do
not
talk to her.”

The counter guy framed his response with a faint, inquisitive smile. “Are you threatening me?” he asked. “Because, mister, you don’t look like you should be threatening anybody.”

Harry’s hand went up to his face—he’d forgotten about its battered state. His rush died away instantly, replaced by a wave of confusion and shame.

The laptop called to him with another merry
ding.

GGGG
: you still there? huh?

Hearing the computer’s chime, Lily started singing.
“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock…”

As she sang, only her wide, pale lips moved, and her frozen stare and immobile body were bizarrely at odds with the lyric.

The counter guy looked at Lily and then turned back to Harry. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I said never mind her, okay?”

But some synapse in Lily was misfiring, and she began singing louder. As her volume rose so did she, standing up with a touch of a wobble.

“She high on something?” asked the counter guy.

“Yeah, high on life,” said Harry. “Now I’m just going to finish up the IM and then get out of here, okay?”

Lily, still singing, came to the end of the song and raised both arms high.
“That’s the jingle bell rock!”

This last burst took something out of her, and, reeling, she flapped her hands for balance. They came down on the counter, spilling Harry’s coffee and spraying the laptops.

“Okay, that’s it!” said the counter guy. “You’ve both got to leave.”

As the man hustled away for a rag, Harry grabbed Lily and shoved her back down on her stool.

“Stay! Don’t move!”

*   *   *

Frantic with worry as he waited for Harry’s response, Ezra stood up and stepped away from the computer. He wanted to stomp his feet and yell, but if he did he might wake the monster in the closet. Ezra didn’t believe Geiger was a monster, but he was certain there was one living inside him. Ezra had felt its wrath when he’d watched it bring Geiger to his knees, and he didn’t want to rouse it again.

Trying to contain his panic, Ezra wandered away from the desk and spied the two bags lying where Geiger had dropped them near the CD racks. He picked up the bag with the Burger King logo, stuck a hand inside, and took out a burger. In two bites he’d devoured half of it, and his head drooped with narcotic pleasure. Then he snapped upright and gave a eureka cry.

“Receipt!”

He tore the Burger King bag apart, French fries flying everywhere.

“Receipt … c’mon, receipt!”

But there was none. He snatched up the drugstore bag and shook it upside down. The bottle of Advil fell out, and behind it came a small white slip of paper, drifting slowly toward the floor. Ezra snatched the receipt out of the air and scanned the printed data.

“Yes!”

He lunged for the desk.

*   *   *

The counter guy started soaking up the mess with a cloth.

“I said leave, didn’t I?”

“Give me a break, man,” said Harry. “Five minutes. That’s all I need. She won’t do it again.”

“Leave.”

“Three minutes.”

“Now,”
the counter guy said, and to put an exclamation on the command, he sent a pointed finger down toward the laptop’s power button. Harry’s hand closed around the guy’s forearm and stopped him. He knew he was a clenched fist from disaster.

The counter guy stared at him open-mouthed. “Let go of my arm or I’ll call the cops.”

“Let me send one more IM, man,” Harry said. “
One
more.”

“Just get the hell out of here—and take Miss Jingle Bells with you.”

The guy was practically yelling now, but his words were punctuated by a cheerful
ding,
as another message appeared on the laptop.

GGGG
: im near la vida discount drugs at 1474 amsterdam!

Harry reached for the keyboard, but now the counter guy’s finger found its mark and landed on the power button. The screen went black.

“Out! Both of you!”

Harry took Lily’s hand and pulled her off the stool. They started for the door, the hobbled leading the helpless. But Harry was elated; he had an address, a place to go.

*   *   *

Ezra stood at Geiger’s desk, reading the IM’s new declaration.

STICKLER
has signed off and cannot receive

messages offline.

He retrieved the half-eaten burger and sat down again. The cat came by and curled up in his lap. Ezra fed himself with one hand, stroked the cat with the other, and refused to cry.

15

Mitch’s coffee was cold. He drank coffee day and night, but he hated it cold. When the heat was gone, something happened to the milk and three sugars that left a coating on his tongue, making him scrape it back and forth against the edges of his front teeth.