Moonless nocturne, p.14
Moonless Nocturne, page 14
“Buffalo Bayou, beneath Waugh Bridge.”
“And how do you know he’s gonna be there?”
“That’s where he told me to meet him, before he told me to come alone.”
“He told you that?”
“Yeah. He called me. You’d never know he’d half caved-in the back of my skull a half-hour earlier.”
“Why’s he want to meet you?”
“I don’t know. He hung up before I had a chance to ask.”
“Did he now? So why are you here?”
“Trying to figure out what he’s up to. I figure I’d have to be an idiot to show. He’s probably just looking for a place to off me without witnesses. Job doesn’t pay that well.”
“You’d better not be trying to pull a fast one on me.”
“You? No man in his right mind would dare.”
“That moutha yours is gonna get you in big... Fabo?”
“Apuro.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Big apuro someday.”
“So they tell me.”
The Dwarf looked him over once more, then slapped the back of his hand against Sanchez and jerked his head toward the doorway. “Just stay out of our way, you got it?”
They were almost out of sight when Maddox said, “Hey, Donald...”
The Dwarf looked back, hand on the door.
“Aren’t you even curious who my client is?”
The perpetual smile widened a bit as the Dwarf pointed a finger at him, pistol-like, and mimicked taking a shot. Then he shut the front door behind him.
Maddox checked his watch. The phone rang a moment later.
The Rice Hotel stood on the edge of downtown like a stern schoolmaster. Seventeen stories of brown brick and white stone blocks, the Rice occupied the space formerly the site of the Republic’s capitol and, honoring that legacy, catered to the monied and powerful. It boasted the city’s first air- conditioned public room, dining in its renowned Flag Room that was fine enough to rival any restaurant one could name, and more wealth and influence in its Old Capital Club than routinely gathered in any one place outside of Washington, D.C.
But Candy Lawrence, in a tight red skirt and a tighter white blouse, didn’t know any of that when she stepped into the lobby and sashayed up to the front desk. All she knew was a room there cost big bucks. What she saw did nothing to change her mind.
The furniture was elegant, if a little stuffy. Brass fixtures shimmered under gaslight, making the wood grains seem restless. Her heels clicked on the polished floor, and one caught on the edge of a large Persian rug as she made her way across the cavernous space. She bit her lip to keep from cursing. That’s what she got for staring up at the chandeliers.
A small man, barely older than her her twenty-four years, with dark hair and a dark suit manned the check-in counter. A much larger man with a shiny bald head and a gray buzz on the sides was stooped over writing something in a large book not far away. The smaller one manning the check-in dropped his gaze as low as the counter would allow, then raised it just as slowly. Usually men met her eyes with a smile after doing that. Not this one.
“Can I help you, Miss?’
“I’m, uh, supposed to meet someone.”
“Is that so.” The clerk scratched his head and glanced to the side, lips pursed. “ I’m afraid our lobby is for guests of the hotel. You will have to arrange your ‘meeting’ for somewhere else.”
“But the man I’m meeting is a guest. And I was just planning, you know, to go up to his room.”
“I see. Now look here, Miss, we are not that type of establishment. I’m going to have to ask you to—.”
“I’ll take care of this, Leonard.”
“But—?”
“Leonard...”
The bald man placed a hand on Leonard’s shoulder, nudging him gently but firmly out of the way. The younger man did not resist, but his expression was a mix of surprise and indignation. He trudged off to a corner, the hangdog look of someone preparing to stew and sulk.
“Now, young miss. Whom are you here to see?”
She had to think for a moment. “Norman Thurgood.”
The man nodded, more in thought than agreement, and slid the guest ledger closer. He ran a finger down one page, then the next.
“Thurgood... I’m sorry, I’m not seeming to find him.”
“Are you sure? He told me this was the place.” In a lower voice, she whispered: “He’s from NASA.”
The man looked up. “Oh, yes, of course.”
He flipped the book back a page and ran his finger down again. “Here we are. I apologize. Sometimes guests are noted, uh, differently than normal. Privacy reasons, you understand.”
She understood—a hotel for the super wealthy was no different than the motels on the east side of town she was used to. Just snootier.
The man reached for a telephone. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“If you’ll just tell me his room number, that’s all I need.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to get his approval first.”
She leaned forward, glancing to the side. “Here’s the thing...” She checked to make sure he got a good look down her blouse. He did. “He told me the room, and I forgot. I don’t want to get in trouble, know what I mean? He might be a little embarrassed that I, you know, talked to anyone.”
The man paused, his eyes dropping to her cleavage. Not for the first time.
She added, “I’d be very grateful. Maybe later I could make it up to you?”
He lowered the phone as if his hand were sinking through water. Then he let out a breath and casually spun the registry around, pointing to a name. Next to it was a number.
“Well, as long as you remember... you didn’t hear it from me. And my name is Patrick.”
Candy knocked on the door of room 714 once. She waited thirty seconds, then knocked again. Sounds of someone stirring, the rustling of sheets, the creaking of a boxspring. Footfalls.
“Who is it? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“It’s me.”
“You have the wrong room. Go away before I call the front desk.”
“C’mon, Norman. Open up. I think I may be pregnant.”
A thump, a click. The sound of the door knob turning. It opened a few inches.
“Just who the hell are—”
Maddox rammed his shoulder against the door, knocking the man back. He rushed inside, grabbing a confused Norman Thurgood and clamping a hand over the man’s mouth. Glancing back, he gestured with his chin, indicating the door. Candy stuck her head out, checked the hallway, then closed it.
Thurgood struggled. He was strong for a bureaucrat, not much to look at in his boxers, but his medium frame and slightly expanded midsection hid some taut muscle. Maddox let go and unloaded two fists to the stomach. High, just beneath the breast bone. A good shot to the solar plexus tended to knock the wind right out of a person, and he’d just landed two. It was a prime target for a nightstick, as all cops were trained. A fist was almost as good.
Grunting, Thurgood sank onto the bed, arms crossed over his midsection. He bent forward and started to sag to the floor. Maddox caught him and pushed him back up.
“Listen, I don’t want to hurt you.”
The man sucked in a breath audibly but didn’t speak. Maddox drew his pistol and cocked the hammer.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions. As long as you answer them, we’ll leave, and you’ll never hear from us again. If you don’t, well, how is it going to look when the concierge tells cops the last thing he remembered was sending a hooker up to your room? Your family will be devastated.” He raised the Tokarev. “Doubly devastated.”
Thurgood coughed a few times, then managed a deep whisper. “What is this about?”
“Your friend. Peele.”
Thurgood’s head snapped up. Bingo.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Is that why your eyes about popped out of their sockets when you heard the name?”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“That so?” Maddox backed up a few steps, pistol still trained on his new acquaintance. He glanced down at the desk near the wall. He picked up a wallet and tossed it to Candy.
“Do me favor, Kitten. Look through that wallet and find the driver’s license for Mr. Tightlips here. Then get the operator on the line to help you find the number for wherever he lives. I’m sure Mrs. Tightlips will want to hear what you have to say, all about the sordid affair, the way he smacked you around when you told him you were pregnant. ” He gestured toward Thurgood with the gun. “Mention the outie belly button and that birthmark on his inner thigh, just for good measure.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Candy sobbed, drawing the man’s attention as she picked through his billfold. “Oh, Mrs Thurgood... I’m so, so sorry. He didn’t tell me he was married. Honest! Not until after I told him about the baby. I’m just scared, I don’t know what to do. I just couldn’t let him keep lying to you. And when he gave me the name of a doctor, threatened that if I didn’t...”
She looked up, cutting off the tears. She held up a yellow card. “Got it.”
“She won’t believe you.”
“I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure you’ll be able to explain it all. The arrest for beating this woman, who the night manager will say knew your name and went straight to your room and who made such a ruckus screaming in the hall, clothes torn from trying to get away from your perverted clutches, telling everyone in earshot how you were going to kill her.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“Information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Tell me about Peele. You were supposed to meet him, weren’t you?”
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Maybe not, but I will when we’re through here. And the quicker you tell me, the quicker we’re out of what’s left of your hair.”
“You’re not going to understand.”
“There’s a lot of that going around. Now talk.”
“Who are you with? The Soviets?”
“No. I’m just a fellow American, looking for some answers.”
“Since you know my name, I assume you know who I work for.”
“Yeah, not exactly a secret.”
“Well, what you’re asking me about certainly is. Not enough people even know about it for it to be classified. There’s just no way I can tell you.”
“How secret do you think it’s going to be when this lady of the evening is screaming to the press about how before you attacked her you were blabbing about secret missions and hundreds of thousands of Americans being killed?”
Thurgood said nothing.
“Yeah, I know about that, and you’d better start expanding that knowledge, real quick. Why are you here?”
“Officially, I’m here as part of a series of site assessments. NASA is planning to construct a major new facility. A base of operations for space missions.”
“And unofficially?”
“It would be very hard to explain.”
Maddox raised the pistol.
“For decades now, the federal government has had an... arrangement with an organization. A private company.”
“Let me guess. New Century Corporation.”
“If you already know all this, why are you interrogating me?”
“I know a little. Just keep talking.”
“Well, a ‘little’ is all anyone knows, as far as I can tell. You may know more than me. From what I was told, this company possesses some remarkable form of technology.”
“What kind of technology.”
“I don’t really know. I swear. But whatever it is, it was capable of spooking the living daylights out of a few highly-placed officials, several administrations ago. My understanding is that each new President is in-briefed in general terms, then strongly advised to decline further information. Only one President has demanded full access, but that was because of the War. The political damage that would be sustained if word got out is incalculable. And political damage isn’t even the main concern.”
“What is?”
“Some people seem to think whatever it is this firm possesses, it’s capable of tearing apart the social fabric. Undermining civilization as we know it.”
“So, what are we talking about?”
“I’m afraid I’m not privy to such information. All I know is, whenever these people report a threat, we’re supposed to do exactly what they say.”
“Sounds like blackmail.” “No, nothing like that.”
“You’re starting to go all vague on me, Norman.”
“This is going to sound ridiculous.”
Maddox said nothing.
“They predict the future. It’s like an equation. A plus B equals C, and if C, then X. If X, then Y. That kind of thing.”
“And they use that information to extort money?”
“No, like I said, it’s not like that. Not completely. I mean, yes, I’m sure they’re well compensated. But it’s more like they dictate exactly what course of action has to be taken.”
“To avoid their prediction?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, how would anyone ever know if there was anything to it?”
“Because, sometimes they just give us a prediction. In case people are inclined to become skeptics.”
“I’m going to take a stab and say this was one of those times.”
Thurgood nodded.
“But this prediction was different,” Maddox said. “This one had hundreds of thousands of people dying. Americans.”
“Yes.”
“And they just send you? Why aren’t feds and soldiers and armored vehicles swarming to take down these people? Demand to know what they’re up to? How to stop it?”
“You don’t understand. There are five, maybe six people in the government who know about this.”
“Maybe now’s a good time to start spreading the word.”
“What word? The last time anyone remembers a prediction, it was that there would be over a quarter of a million dead in Japan. No specifics as to what nationality. Those numbers were in line with invasion estimates. Truman almost had a breakdown and ordered us to bomb them until they surrendered. Guess what? That turned out to be the death toll from the A-bombs he dropped. According to our contact, when they give us a prediction with no formula for correction, it’s because they don’t have one. Should we simply start a panic?”
“You’re just going to let all those people die?”
“You’re not following me. No one knows enough to do anything. Whatever we try to do in response could be what causes it. Do you have any idea what it would take to evacuate millions of people? What if most of those deaths wouldn’t have happened?”
“And this is all supposed to happen tomorrow?”
“What? No, of course not. You think I’d be sitting here if that were the case? They gave us a date. November ninth.”
“So, I’m going to ask you again. Why are you here? Just what does NASA got to do with all this?”
“The date happens to coincide with something we have scheduled. I’m supposed to make sure there’s no connection.”
“What kind of something? A space launch?”
“Look, it’s one thing to answer questions about something no one would believe, it’s another to give out highly classified information. We’re in a race with the Russians, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Tell me what NASA’s got planned.”
“It’s a mission, okay? Someone got the bright idea to—”
The knock at the door was firm and efficient. Maddox glanced at Candy, then back at Thurgood. The look he gave Thurgood was enough to keep him quiet. The raised barrel of the pistol was an exclamation point.
“Excuse me, Mr. Thurgood. This is Mr. Harding from Guest Services.” The voice coming through the door was muffled. “Is everything okay?”
Maddox gave Thurgood a nod, raised a finger, indicating the one chance he had to say the right thing.
“Yes,” Thurgood raised his voice, eyes on Maddox. “Everything’s fine. Thank you.”
“We’ve had some, uh, calls about noise. Loud voices and such. I came personally to make sure I would not be, uh, disturbing you. I must ask that you please keep it down. We have other guests on this floor.”
Thurgood took in a breath, then suddenly smiled. When he spoke, eyes on Maddox and voice toward the door, the words strode from his mouth with a swagger. “Sorry, I had some unexpected visitors and we lost track of the time. They were just leaving. Would you be so kind as to see them downstairs?”
Maddox watched as Candy spoke on the pay phone, one of her slender hands gripping the handset, the other winding and unwinding the cord around her index finger. She hung up and opened the glass door to the booth, smiling as she made her way to the car.
She leaned in through the driver’s door window, resting her elbows in the opening. “All done.”
He was getting a full frontal shot of her chest. And the whiff of perfume made him shift in the seat.
“How’d they sound about it?”
Her face turned mock serious. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll send someone right away, ma’am. You did the right thing, ma’am.”
“I’d better get going then,” he said, checking his watch. He reached into his coat pocket and took out a few bills. He pressed them into her palm. “Here’s a little something for a taxi. You did well, doll.”
She glanced down at the wad in her hand. “This is a lot more than cab fare.”
“Well, you did a lot more than make a phone call.”
“You know, Joe,” she said, rolling the bills up and stuffing them into her bra. “It’s late. After you’re done here, you could... come over to my place. Get some rest. I could make you some eggs.”
Maddox peered into her eyes, touched a finger against her chin. “Some other time.”
She broke eye contact, ran the back of her hand under her nose like something had tickled it. “Right.”
She always asked. He always gave the same answer.
Candy was sexy and more than a little pretty. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He liked her too much.
