“You bitch!” he roared again.
She motioned with her hands. “Come and get me, Barry, baby. You know you want to. And after you kick my ass you can have yourself a real good time with me.”
He sprang forward, the pipe held high for the killing blow.
He flew backward just as fast when her foot collided with his face. She didn’t wait for him to recover. Her fist crashed into his gut and then she whirled around and delivered a crushing kick to his jaw driving him backward and over Cheryl’s bed. He struggled up, stunned by the strength of her blows. He threw the pipe at her, missing her head by an inch as she ducked. Then he picked up a chair and hurled that too, but Michelle was too nimble. He bounded over the bed and lunged for her, and caught nothing except air and a massive side-kick to his kidneys that seemed to drive all the fight out of him.
He dropped to his knees groaning as she stood over him and for good measure drove an elbow into the back of his head. That sent him flat to the floor.
“I’m waiting, Barry. If you want to finish this, you better hurry; the cops will be here soon.”
“You bitch!”he moaned weakly.
“Yeah, you said that already. Can’t you think of something new?”
He tried to get up and she tensed to deliver a knockout blow when two Fairfax cops peered through the doorway, guns drawn.
She pointed at Barry. “He’s the one you want. I’m Michelle Maxwell, the one who tipped off Detective Richards yesterday.”
One of the cops, eyeing the destroyed room, said, “You okay, ma’am?”
Barry groaned from the floor, “You idiot! I’m the one who’s hurt. I need a doctor. She attacked me.”
“This is my room. He came in with the lead pipe over there, his prints are all over it,” Michelle said. “He tried to pay me back for crashing the little drug op he had going with the pharmacist here. My guess is they were fudging the computer records on the drug inventories so the theft wouldn’t show up and old Barry here was shipping them out to his street team under the cover of patients in the locked ward here sending out packages.” She glanced down at the beaten man. “As you can see, things didn’t work out exactly as he’d planned.”
The cops hauled Barry up, despite his protests of devastating injury, cuffed him and read him his rights.
“We’ll need your statement, ma’am,” one of the cops said.
“Oh, and I’m just dying to give it.”
They’d holstered their weapons and were leading Barry out when everyone froze. In the doorway was Sandy in her wheelchair. However, everyone was fixated not on the woman but on the gun she was holding.
CHAPTER
34
ONE COP’S HAND FLEW to his sidearm, but Sandy yelled, “Don’t!” She gripped the gun with both hands. “Don’t,” she said again. “I don’t want to hurt you, just him,” she added, motioning with the pistol to Barry.
She settled her gaze back on him and said, “Don’t recognize me, do you? No reason you should. You didn’t come there that day to kill me; you came to murder the best man. But you missed and got the groom instead. My husband!”
Barry sucked in a breath and Sandy smiled even more broadly. “Oh, now it’s coming back to you.” She shook her head. “What a bad shot you were. Killed my husband, left me a cripple and missed your target. Your mob bosses must’ve been real pissed off at you for that.”
Now Michelle stepped forward and the pistol moved around to point at her.
Sandy said, “Michelle, don’t act the hero here. I really don’t want to hurt you. But I will if you try and stop me from giving this piece of trash what he should’ve gotten a long time ago.”
“Sandy, you don’t have to do this. Barry’s being arrested for drug-dealing. He’s going to go away for a long time.”
“No, he won’t, Michelle.”
“Sandy, we have the evidence, he’s busted.”
“He’s in Witness Protection. They’re going to cover it up just like they’ve done in the past.”
Michelle turned to look at Barry and then back at Sandy. “Witness Protection?”
“He ratted on his mob bosses and did no time in jail for killing the man I loved; the feds looked the other way because he helped bring down a major crime family. And they’re going to look the other way on this. Isn’t that right, Barry, or should I call you by your real name, Anthony Bender?”
Barry smiled and said, “Don’t know what you’re talking about. And if you try and shoot me you’re going down too.”
“You think I care? You took the only thing from me I ever cared about. Ever!”
“I’m crying inside for you, Little Miss Cripple.”
“Shut up! Shut up!” Sandy screamed, her finger edging to the trigger. The cops were looking steadily at Sandy’s weapon. Michelle sensed this, turned and mouthed something to each of them. Then she slid between Barry and Sandy.
“Sandy, give me the gun. He’s going to jail this time, I’ll make sure of it.”
“Right.” Barry laughed.
Michelle whirled around. “Shut up, you idiot.” She turned back to Sandy. “He will go to prison, I swear it. Now give me the gun.”
“Michelle, get out of the way. I’ve spent years tracking this bastard down and now I’m going to finish it.”
“He took your husband and your legs from you. Don’t let him take the life you have left.”
“What life? You call this a life?”
“You can help other people, Sandy. That’s worth a lot.”
“I can’t even help myself, so how can I help anybody else?”
“You’ve helped me.” Michelle took another step forward. “You helped me,” she added more quietly. “You’re not a criminal. You’re not a killer. You’re a good person. Don’t let him take that from you.”
The gun wavered a bit in Sandy’s hand, but then it became very rigid and her voice calmed.
“I’m sorry, Michelle. You’re right. I can’t kill that filth even if he does deserve it.”
“That’s right, Sandy. Now give me the gun.”
“Goodbye, Michelle.”
“What!”
Sandy placed the gun against her temple and squeezed the trigger. The click reverberated around the room. Sandy squeezed the trigger again and then again, yet no bullet flew out to end her life. She looked stunned as Michelle walked up and slipped the gun out of her hand.
“I took the bullets out earlier.”
Sandy stared up at her in amazement. “How, how did you know?”
“Dirt on your fingers and dirt on the floor. People don’t normally ferret around in the soil of a flower basket. I knew something was in there.”
“Why didn’t you just take the gun then?” one of the cops grumbled. “If you hadn’t alerted us just now that it was empty we might have shot her.”
Michelle took hold of one of Sandy’s trembling hands. “I thought she might have to play this out, to get on with her life. To see what she was and wasn’t capable of.” Michelle smiled tenderly at the woman. “Sometimes that’s the best therapy of all.”
“You knew about Barry?” she said.
“I hadn’t figured that he was the one who shot your husband, but I saw you watching him and could sense you had some interest in him. I didn’t know about the Witness Protection angle though.”
“By the way,” Barry began confidently. “Call my handler at the U.S. Marshals Service. His name is Bob Truman, right in D.C.”
Michelle brightened. “Bobby Truman?”
Barry looked at her blankly. “You know him?”
“I should. I won a silver medal in the Olympics with his daughter. When I tell him what happened, you’ll be fortunate to see sunlight before you’re eighty. Must be my lucky day.”
They took Barry away, kicking and screaming. The cops made some noise about charging Sandy, but Michelle ultimately dissuaded them from doing so. “Do you really want to fill out the paperwork on that one? And besides, every wife in America would be s
creaming at you for being jerks,” she added, staring pointedly at the wedding band on one of the cop’s fingers.
“The gun was unloaded,” that cop said nervously to his partner.
The other cop said, “Screw it, I don’t need the hassle. But we’re taking the weapon.”
Michelle wheeled Sandy back to her room and spent some time talking to her. When Michelle got back to her room, she heard a whimpering sound. She opened the bathroom door and Cheryl nearly fell out.
“Cheryl, I’m sorry, I forgot all about you.” Michelle led the quivering woman over to her bed and sat down with her. Then she spotted the straw on the floor, picked it up and handed it to her. To her surprise Cheryl didn’t start sucking on it. Instead she clung tightly to Michelle’s shoulders. Michelle could feel the woman’s sharp bones against her skin.
Michelle sighed, then smiled and hugged the woman back. “I hear they’re having a really good session on eating disorders tonight. What say we go together? After dinner.”
In a tremulous whisper, Cheryl said, “You don’t have an eating disorder.”
“Are you kidding? Cheryl, I ate the Salisbury steak, a double helping. And actually liked it. If that’s not a disorder, I don’t know what is.”
CHAPTER
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THE NEXT EVENING SEAN WAS PACKING when someone knocked on his bedroom door.
“Come in.”
Champ Pollion poked his head through the door.
“Did Alicia talk to you?” Sean asked.
“About the move? Yes. I have no problem with you acting as Viggie’s guardian angel. I would just caution you not to end up dead,” he added firmly.
“Self-preservation has always been high on my list of priorities.” Sean closed his bag and set it on the floor. “You know, we never got around to talking about what it is you do here at Babbage Town.”
Champ came into the room. “I was really counting on Len to go through the details.”
“Since Len can’t do the honors, care to give me the tour? I could take a stroll to Hut Number Two with you right now.”
“So you know about Hut Number Two, do you?”
“And I’m really curious about that gadget you had, the one that will make people forget about Edison and Bell?”
“I have been known to give in to hyperbole from time to time.”
“Why don’t you let me see for myself?”
“Look, I don’t mean to be uncooperative—” Champ began.
“Then don’t be,” Sean cut in.
“There are confidences one has to keep,” Champ said loftily.
“Let me explain the situation to you, Champ. First, I’m working with Sheriff Hayes on the case and he can compel you to show me if you force me to go down that road. Second, we’ve got two dead men tied to Babbage Town. I doubt you’d like to see it go to three, especially if you happen to be the third corpse.”
“Me! You think I’m in danger?”
“I know I’m in danger, so you sure as hell must be.”
“Look, can’t this wait? I’m very busy.”
“That’s what Len Rivest told me. And look where it got him.”
Champ stiffened and then relaxed. “I don’t know; this is very awkward.”
“It’s been my experience that uncooperative people have something to hide.”
Champ’s face flushed. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Good, so you won’t mind telling me where you were between the hours of midnight and two A.M. the night Len Rivest died?”
“Is that when he was killed?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I don’t have to answer anything,” he said defiantly.
“True. Call your lawyer, clamp your mouth shut and let the FBI investigate every detail of your life back to preschool. And if the Bureau is anything, it’s thorough.”
Champ seemed to consider this for a few moments. “I couldn’t sleep so I went down to the hut to go over some test results.”
“Anyone see you?”
“Of course. There are always people working. We’re a 24/7 operation.”
“So you were there the whole time? Twelve to two A.M? And beyond? Verified by witnesses.” Come on, Champ, tell me a lie. Come on.
A sheen of perspiration rose on Champ’s forehead. “As best as I can recollect. You can’t hold me to the minute.”
“I can’t but other people can and will. Now let’s go check out your hut.”
On the way over Sean said, “Do you have a cleaning staff come in? Or do your folks do their own cleaning and laundry?”
“The maids come in daily in several shifts. About two dozen cleaning personnel at a time.” He pointed up ahead where a woman in a white maid’s uniform was pushing a very full laundry cart down the pavement. “The laundry services are housed in part of Hut Number Three, next to the security headquarters. All the cleaning people have been vetted, wear the same uniforms and carry nontransferable IDs. Is that sufficient?”
“No, it’s not. What type of detergent do they use?”
Champ stopped walking and stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Just kidding, Champ, just kidding.”
CHAPTER
36
HUT NUMBER TWO was far larger than Alicia’s domain. To enter by the locked door, Champ had to insert his security badge in a slot and have his fingerprint scanned by a device attached to the wall. The interior of the hut was made up of an enormous work area in the middle, with enclosed rooms around the perimeter. Through some of the open doors of these rooms, Sean could see sophisticated machinery and people working with them. On one wall hung a banner that read “P = NP.”
Sean pointed to it. “What’s that mean?”
Champ hesitated and then said, “It’s an equation representing NP, or nondeterministic polynomial time equaling P or polynomial time. When fully realized, it’ll make E equals MC squared look like a blueprint for a set of Tinkertoys.”
“How so?”
“Polynomial time represents problems that are easy to solve, well, relatively easy. NP-complete problems represent the most difficult problems in the universe.”
“Like how to cure cancer?”
“Not exactly, although who knows what the applications might turn out to be. In fact we have a department here whose sole duty is to determine how newly minted proteins fold up into just the right shape that determines their function in the body. There are trillions of different ways they could fold, and yet most proteins fold up just the right way.”
Sean noted that the man was far more talkative and articulate when it came to areas of his expertise and he intended to press this advantage. “So if they usually get it right, why is understanding how they do it important?”
“Because they don’t always get it right. And when they don’t it can be catastrophic. Alzheimer’s and mad cow disease are examples of proteins blowing the folding sequence. But what I’m really talking about are, for example, the absolute best way for a car to be manufactured, or how to manage the world’s air traffic not in one of the best ways possible, but the best way possible taking into account every conceivable factor. How to take energy from point A to anywhere else with maximum efficiency; or how to get the proverbial traveling salesman on his route in the most