“I’m worried about the doctor causing trouble in relation to Marsha Baldwin,” Shanahan said.
“Yeah, well, that too,” Bobby Bo said.
“What about Carlos?” Shanahan asked. “He’s really angry at this point. He’s willing to do it for nothing. It’s become a matter of pride.”
“What’s been the upshot of this last botched attempt?” Bobby Bo asked. “Have the police been called? Do I have a lot of media nonsense to look forward to?”
“Apparently not,” Shanahan said. “We’ve monitored the scanner all afternoon and evening. There’s been nothing.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Bobby Bo said. “I’ll tell you what. Make the arrangements with Leutmann, but if the situation presents itself, let Carlos have one more chance. What do you think?”
“Leutmann will demand a down payment just to come here,” Shanahan said. “It’s not the kind of thing we can get back.”
“So we save two and a half K,” Bobby Bo said. “Plus we have our bases covered. One way or the other, we’ll be rid of this pesky doctor.”
“Okay,” Shanahan said. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Good,” Bobby Bo said. “Just make sure that the next time you talk to me, it’s good news.”
“I’ll make it my personal responsibility,” Shanahan said.
“One other thing,” Bobby Bo said. “Get some bio on this doctor. When Leutmann gets here, I want him to know how to find him without screwing around.”
The emergency room at the University Medical Center was as busy as usual. Kim and Tracy were in the waiting room, sitting in seats close to where they’d been when they’d waited with Becky. Kim was holding a sterile four-by-four gauze pad against his laceration.
“This is a rather unpleasant déjà vu,” Kim commented.
“Seems like a year ago since we were here,” Tracy said wistfully. “I can’t believe so much could happen in so few days.”
“In some respects it seems like a long time and in others like a blink of the eye,” Kim said. He gritted his teeth. “I can’t help but wonder if things wouldn’t have turned out much differently if Becky had been seen quicker on that first visit and cultures taken.”
“I posed that question to Dr. Morgan,” Tracy said. “She didn’t think it would have mattered that much.”
“It seems hard to believe,” Kim said.
“Why didn’t you want to call one of your surgical friends to sew you up?” Tracy asked.
“For some of the same reasons I didn’t want to call the police,” Kim said. “I just want to have it stitched and be done with it. I don’t want there to be a big rigmarole. With a friend there’d be questions, and I’d feel guilty about lying.”
“They’ll undoubtedly ask you how it happened even here,” Tracy said. “What will you tell them?”
“I don’t know,” Kim said. “I’ll think of something.”
“How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” Tracy asked.
“According to David Washington, not long,” Kim said.
By chance they’d run into the evening ER head when they’d first arrived. He’d heard about Becky’s passing and had offered his deepest sympathies. He’d also promised to get Kim in and out of the ER as soon as possible and was unconcerned when Kim told him he wanted to use an alias.
For a while they sat in silence while mindlessly watching the pathetic parade of the sick and injured that passed in front of them. Tracy was the one who broke the silence. “The more time I have to think about what we just experienced, the less inclined I am to allow you to go through with what you’re planning. I mean, it’s plainly self-destructive for you to even consider going into Higgins and Hancock after everything that’s occurred.”
“What do you mean, allow me?” Kim questioned irritably while still musing about the ER visit with Becky. “What are you going to do, physically stand in my way?”
“Please, Kim,” Tracy said. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you. Because of what’s happened to Becky, I’m worried about whether you’re capable of making reasonable decisions. It seems clear to me that getting a job in Higgins and Hancock is too risky.”
“It might be risky,” Kim said. “But there’s no other choice. It’s the only way to get the media involved, and the media is our only hope of doing anything about this sorry situation.”
“What can you hope to accomplish in Higgins and Hancock to justify the risk?” Tracy said. “I mean specifically.”
“That I can’t say until I get in there,” Kim admitted. “Never having been in a slaughterhouse, I don’t know what to expect. But I know what I’m interested in and what the issues are. The first concerns how Becky got sick. Marsha Baldwin discovered something about the head of the last animal slaughtered on January ninth. I want to find out what it was. The second issue is Marsha Baldwin’s disappearance; somebody’s got to know something. And lastly there is the issue about how E. coli generally gets into the meat. Marsha suggested it has something to do with the way they slaughter the animals. I want to see it with my own eyes and then document it. Once I have, I’ll get Kelly Anderson involved. Exposing the USDA angle will be up to her.”
Tracy stared off in the middle distance.
“You’re not going to respond?” Kim commented after a short silence.
“Sure,” Tracy said, as if waking from a minitrance. “You make it all sound so reasonable. But I’ll tell you something. I’m not going to allow you to go by yourself. I’ve got to be involved in some form or fashion so that I can help if need be, even if I have to get a job too.”
“You’re serious!” Kim said. He was amazed.
“Of course I’m serious,” Tracy said. “Becky was my daughter too. I don’t think you should be the only one taking the risk.”
“Well, that’s an interesting idea,” Kim said. Now it was his time to stare off while he pondered.
“I wouldn’t even have to worry about a disguise,” Tracy added. “They’ve never seen me.”
“I don’t know whether you could get a job,” Kim said. “At least not easily.”
“Why not?” Tracy asked. “If you could get a job, why couldn’t I?”
“Marsha said they were in constant need of help but only in the actual slaughtering side of the business,” Kim said. “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“No, but maybe they could use me as a secretary or something along those lines,” Tracy said. “We don’t know unless I try.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Kim said. “Remember Lee Cook who worked for me back at the Samaritan?”
“I think so,” Tracy said. “Wasn’t he that clever technician who could fix anything electronic and who kept all the sophisticated electronic equipment functioning at the hospital?”
“You got it,” Kim said. “After the merger, he retired. He’s building his own airplane in his basement and doing other odd jobs. But I’m sure he could wire me up with a bug. In that way you can be in the car in the parking lot listening in real time. Then, if need be, you can use your cell phone to call for the cavalry.”
“You mean so I could hear you all the time?” Tracy asked.
“Yeah, continuously,” Kim said.
“Could I talk with you?” Tracy asked.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Kim said. “I’d have to have an earphone of some kind. That might be a giveaway. I can’t imagine too many Higgins and Hancock employees wear earphones.”
“I could even record what you say,” Tracy said, warming to the idea.
“That’s true,” Kim agreed.
“What about video?” Tracy asked.
“Hey, maybe so,” Kim said. “I know they have some tiny cameras nowadays. Maybe that could be the documentation we’ll need for Kelly Anderson.”
“Mr. Billy Rubin!” a voice called out over the heads of the waiting crowd.
Kim raised his free hand and stood up. Tracy did likewise. An ER resident dressed in all white saw them
and walked over. He was carrying a clipboard with Kim’s ER registration sheet attached.
“Mr. Billy Rubin?” the resident repeated. His name tag said: DR. STEVE LUDWIG, EMERGENCY MEDICINE RESI-DENT. He was a brawny fellow with a ready smile and closely cropped, thinning, dirty-blond hair. “Did you know that bilirubin is a medical term?”
“No,” Kim said. “I didn’t have any idea.”
“It is,” Steve commented. “It comes from the breakdown of hemoglobin. Anyhow, let’s take a look at your laceration.”
Kim pulled away the four-by-four. Due to swelling, the wound was more gaping now than earlier.
“Whoa!” Steve intoned. “That’s one nasty cut. We’d better get that sewn up. How did it happen?”
“Shaving,” Kim said.
Tracy couldn’t help but repress a smile.
SIXTEEN
Monday, January 26th
Tracy shifted her weight impatiently. She had her arms folded and was leaning against the plaster wall of the upstairs hall. She’d positioned herself directly across from the door into the guest bath. She’d been there for almost five minutes.
“Well?” Tracy called through the door.
“Are you ready?” Kim’s voice answered.
“I’ve been ready,” Tracy answered. “Open the door!”
The door squeaked open. Tracy’s hand shot to her mouth and she let out an involuntary giggle.
Kim looked completely different. His hair was unevenly cut short, teased to stand mostly upward, and bleached platinum blond. His eyebrows matched his hair in color and formed a stark contrast with the dark stubble-covered face. The sutured laceration wrapping over the bridge of his nose and extending through one blond eyebrow gave him a Frankenstein look. He was dressed in a black, double-flap pocket corduroy shirt over a black T-shirt with black leather pants. He had a black leather belt and matching bracelet decorated with stainless-steel rivets. The outfit was topped off with a fake diamond-stud earring in his left earlobe and a tattoo of a wolf with the word “lobo” on his right upper arm.
“So what do you think?” Kim asked.
“You look bizarre!” Tracy said. “Especially with the black silk stitches. I’d hate to run into you in a dark alley.”
“That sounds like the effect I was striving for,” Kim said.
“You certainly don’t look like anybody I’d want to know,” Tracy added.
“In that case maybe I should swing by the hospital,” Kim suggested. “Maybe with this outfit they’ll reinstate my privileges without a hearing.”
“A doctor is the last thing I’d suspect you were,” Tracy said with another laugh. “I particularly like the tattoo.”
Kim lifted his arm to admire his handiwork. “Pretty cool, huh?” he said. “The directions guaranteed it would last for three or four days, provided I don’t shower. Can you imagine?”
“Where’s the microphone?” Tracy asked.
“Right here under my collar,” Kim said. He rolled over the upper edge of the shirt. A tiny microphone was safety-pinned to the underside.
“Too bad video was out of the question,” Tracy said.
“Hey, remember it’s not completely out of the question,” Kim said. “Lee said he’d work on it, and when he says that, nine times out of ten he comes through. It just won’t be for a few days.”
“Let’s test the audio system,” Tracy suggested. “I want to make sure it’s working as well as it did last night in Lee’s garage.”
“Good idea,” Kim said. “You hop in your car and drive down to the corner. That should be just about right. Lee said it would work up to two hundred yards.”
“Where will you be?” Tracy asked.
“I’ll move around inside the house,” Kim said. “I’ll even try going down into the basement.”
Tracy nodded and went down to the hall closet. She got out her coat, then called back up the stairs. “Don’t forget to put in your earphone, too.”
“I already have it in,” Kim yelled.
Tracy went out into the crisp morning. A wind had come up during the night, blowing the storm clouds to the East. In their place was pale blue sky.
Tracy got into her car, started it, and drove to the corner as they’d discussed. She pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine. Next she opened her driver’s-side window and put a makeshift antenna on the roof of her car.
Inside the car, Tracy slipped on a pair of stereo earphones that were attached to an old-style reel-to-reel tape recorder. The tape recorder was wired to an amplifier, which in turn was connected to a transformer sitting on top of a freestanding car battery.
A red light on the front panel of the amplifier illuminated when Tracy turned the unit on. She heard some brief static in her earphones, but it cleared quickly. On top of the amplifier was a microphone. Tracy picked it up.
After glancing outside her car to make sure none of her neighbors were watching, she spoke into the microphone.
“Kim, can you hear me?” she asked.
Kim’s voice came back so loud, Tracy winced. “I can hear you like you were standing right next to me,” he said.
Tracy quickly turned down the volume and pressed the start button on the tape recorder.
“How’s your volume?” Tracy asked. “You were much too loud on this end.”
“It’s fine,” Kim said.
“Where are you?” Tracy asked.
“I’m in the back part of the basement,” Kim said. “If it works here, I’m pretty sure it’s going to work anyplace.”
“It is surprisingly clear,” Tracy admitted.
“Well, come on back,” Kim said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Ten-four,” Tracy said. She had no idea what the expression meant but had heard it in lots of movies and TV shows.
She took off the headphones and stopped the tape. She rewound it and then played it. She was pleased that both sides of the conversation came through perfectly clearly.
By the time Tracy got back to the house, Kim had everything they intended to take waiting by the front door. They’d packed lunches and filled thermos bottles, banking on Kim being hired on the spot. They also had a blanket and extra sweaters for Tracy. Kim was sure it would be cold sitting in the car all day.
They stowed everything in the backseat. Kim climbed in the back, too, since the front passenger seat was taken up by the electronic equipment.
Tracy slid behind the wheel and was about to start the car when she thought of something else.
“Where’s your gun?” she asked.
“It’s upstairs in the guestroom,” Kim said.
“I think you should have it,” Tracy said.
“I don’t want to carry a gun in the slaughterhouse,” Kim said.
“Why not?” Tracy asked. “God forbid, what if you have to face that creep with the knife again?”
Kim considered the suggestion. There were reasons against taking it. First, Kim was afraid the gun might somehow be discovered. Second, he’d never once fired it and didn’t know if he could actually shoot someone. But then he remembered the panic he’d felt when he’d been chased by the man with the knife and how he’d wished he’d had some kind of weapon.
“All right,” Kim said. He opened the door, took Tracy’s keys, and returned to the house. A few minutes later, he climbed back into the car and handed the keys to Tracy.
Tracy started the car and was about to back up.
“Wait a sec,” Kim said. “There’s something else.”
Tracy turned the ignition key. The engine coughed and died. With a confused expression, she faced around at Kim. “What now?” she asked.
Kim was staring up at the house. “I was just thinking about that creep being in my house when we arrived last night,” Kim said. “I don’t want to be surprised like that again. It’s not entirely inconceivable that they could trace me here.”
“What do you propose?” Tracy asked with a shudder.
“Are any of your n
eighbors particularly nosy?” Kim asked. “These houses are all pretty close together.”
“There’s Mrs. English across the street,” Tracy said. “She’s an elderly widow who I swear must spend the whole day looking out the window.”
“That’s a start,” Kim said. “Let’s ask her to keep an eye out until we get back. Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” Tracy said.
“But that’s not enough,” Kim said. “We got to have backups. It’s got to be one-hundred-percent sure. How many doors into the house?”
“Just the usual front door and back door,” Tracy said.
“What about the basement?” Kim asked.
“The only way into the basement is through the house,” Tracy said.
“The guy last night came through the back sliders,” Kim said, while thinking out loud.
“This house has no sliders,” Tracy said.
“Good.” He got out of the car. Tracy did the same.
“Why not do something to the doors so we’d know if they’d been opened,” Tracy suggested. “I mean for someone to get in, they’d have to break a window or go through one of the doors. When we get back we can check.”
“That’s a good idea,” Kim said. “But then what would we do?”
“Well, we sure as hell won’t go in the house,” Tracy said.
“Where would we go?” Kim asked. “We wouldn’t want to be followed.”
Tracy shrugged. “A motel, I guess.”
“I know what we’ll do,” Kim said. “On the way out to Higgins and Hancock, we’ll stop by the bank. We’ll pull out our savings as a fallback. If we’re really worried about being followed, credit cards aren’t the best idea.”
“Wow, you really are thinking ahead,” Tracy said. “In that case, we might as well grab our passports too.”
“Listen, I’m being serious,” Kim complained.