Page 19 of Lethal Experiment

Dr. Crouch said, “Monica, I want to thank you for coming today. Though you can’t imagine it, or care to, your presence here has been meaningful.”

  “I only came so I could look this bastard in the face and tell him about Kathleen.”

  “What about her?” I said.

  Monica’s eyes grew ice cold. Her mouth curled into a smug smile. You could tell she’d rehearsed this scene many times. I think she planned to say more, but changed her mind at the last minute, realizing the faster you say it, the quicker it hurts. She’d come all the way from Costa Rica to get this out, so I waited as she paused to gather the proper venom in her voice. When she was ready, she lifted her chin defiantly, and spit two poisonous words at me: “Kathleen’s engaged.”

  Chapter 47

  Monica’s words sent my heart into freefall. I blinked, forcing my brain to accept what I’d heard. Nausea flooded through me in that terrible way you feel when you can’t quite vomit. You know you’ll feel better if you do, but your body won’t cooperate. I took a deep breath. I should have stayed in the coma. This was too much to deal with all at once. When I let the breath out it felt as though my life force went with it.

  Nadine broke the silence: “How nice for you to take this opportunity to tell him that.”

  “No man ever deserved it more,” Monica said. “I bet her fiancé is fucking her right now, making her say his name.”

  Hugo shook his head. Victor lowered his eyes in embarrassment. Monica kept the smug look on her face, and I thought, revenge agrees with her. She’s probably never looked more beautiful than she looks at this moment.

  I wanted to scream, but I found myself smiling. I mean, you have to smile, right? During the past week I learned I’d lost three years of my life, lost my face, lost my name. And now, hearing I may have lost the love of my life, well, what else are you going to do?

  Monica sneered. “How does it make you feel to know another man has taken over your life? A man who at this very moment is screwing your lover, spending your millions, and raising your little match girl.”

  “How does it make me feel?” I repeated.

  Like I’d been tied to a whipping post, I thought. But what I said was, “I feel like thanking God.”

  “What?”

  “No matter how much I love Kathleen and Addie, I can’t live like that. Dr. Crouch spent the past week helping me understand that, and what you’ve told me just makes it a lot easier to leave them behind. I’m glad they’ve found someone special to take my place.”

  “Bullshit,” she said.

  “I’ll miss the sex,” I said. “And Addie.”

  “And the money?”

  I laughed. “I’ve got as much as I need and I can always get more.”

  “So your story is that you’re fine with all this,” Monica said.

  “It’s true,” said Nadine, “though I wouldn’t have chosen you, or this time and place, to tell him about Kathleen.”

  “Well I think he’s bluffng,” she said. “He won’t admit it, but I think I hurt him worse than he hurt me.”

  “And I think you look sensational,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I like the whole package. You’ve got a kick-ass little body, and I bet you’re a wildcat in the sack.”

  Her face smoldered like a live coal. “From what hellish pit have you summoned the gall to talk to me like that?”

  “What do you expect me to say? I haven’t been laid in three years. Suddenly you waltz in here all worked up, wearing those ‘check-out-my-tight-ass’ pants!’”

  “How dare you!”

  I shrugged. “A kind word never broke a tooth.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Monica said, but stormed out before I had a chance to answer.

  “Guess you’d better chase after her,” I said to Hugo. “She won’t like it when security pins her against the wall.”

  He left, and Victor said, “It…was all…about you.”

  “What was?”

  “The…experi…ment.”

  “The experiment,” I repeated.

  “We…wanted…to see…how far…you’d…go.”

  I thought about the seven loans Victor had Callie make to four couples and three individuals, loans that represented eleven lives and seven hundred thousand dollars—loans made and lives taken for nothing more than a bet between two midgets.

  “You had me kill all those people just to see how long I’d do it? Why?”

  “You…ever see…that…movie…Trading…Places?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Well…we had…a bet…Hugo…and me.”

  “Who won?”

  “He did.”

  I stared at him blankly. “How much did he win?”

  “Like…the movie.”

  “One dollar?”

  “Yes but…it’s the…principle…not the…money.”

  Hugo made a bow, reached into his pocket, pulled out a single dollar bill, held it up, and performed a strange little victory dance.

  Victor said, “He’s…very proud…of his…victory.”

  Nadine and I looked at each other.

  “I think we’re done here,” she said.

  When it was just me and her in the room I said, “When were you going to tell me?”

  “I was working up to it.”

  “You and Lou let me believe everything was fine with Kathleen and Addie.”

  She looked at me awhile before speaking. “You want the truth?”

  “Tease me with it. We can always default to your bullshit later.”

  “Dr. Howard asked us not to say anything that might interfere with your recovery.”

  “She’s engaged,” I said.

  “She is.”

  This, along with all the rest, was almost too much to bear. “I guess Kathleen’s had it pretty rough,” I said, “Addie too.”

  “And Kathleen had every reason to believe you were dead. She attended your funeral, don’t forget.”

  “Did she seem pretty broken up at the time?”

  “I wasn’t there, but I understand she took it hard.”

  “You think she brought a date?”

  “That sort of talk is destructive, don’t you think?”

  “You really want to know what I think?”

  “I do,” she said. “It’s my job, after all.”

  “I know she wants to be married, and it’s certainly better for Addie. Still, I think it’s pretty quick on her part. Don’t you agree?”

  “I try to avoid judgment,” Nadine said.

  Chapter 48

  “Hello, Sal,” I said.

  “What? Who is this? How’d you get this number?”

  “Listen to my voice. You know who it is.”

  “The fuck?”

  “You got some work for me?”

  From the dead silence on the other end of the line I could practically hear the wheels turning.

  “What is this, a—whatcha call—previous recording? Someone trying to be funny? Trying to play a bad joke?”

  “It’s me. Creed.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Ask me something only I would know.”

  “Holy shit, it is you!”

  “You didn’t ask me anything.”

  “Only you woulda said something like that. Jesus H. The friggin’ attic dweller comes back from the grave.”

  Then, as if something just struck him, Sal said, “I want my money back for the—whatcha call—funeral wreath.”

  I laughed. “Take it out of my next job.”

  “Don’t think I won’t. So who got killed and passed off as you? And where the hell you been, anyway?”

  “You know how it works. That’s classifi ed.”

  “And you government fuckers wonder why I have—whatcha call—trust issues.”

  “So, you got any work for me, or not?”

  “I could give you ten jobs today.”

  “Give me an easy one to start. I’m at half strength right
now.”

  “Which means you’re still the best I ever seen.”

  “Stop,” I said. “You’re making me blush.”

  “You want easy?” he said. “I was gonna do this one myself.”

  “What, some girl scout forgot to deliver your cookies?”

  “After all these years you’re still a wise guy,” Sal said.

  “I didn’t know wise guys called other people wise guys.”

  “I could write a book on what you don’t know. You want this candy job or what?”

  “Feed me, Seymour.”

  “The fuck you talkin’ about?”

  “I want the easy hit first. Then we can talk about the others.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  “So,” I said, “what makes this hit so easy?”

  “The fucker wants to die.”

  I didn’t know the fucker, but I knew how he felt.

  Chapter 49

  “Callie, it’s me.”

  There was the briefest silence, and then an explosion took place on the other end of the line.

  “Oh my God, Oh, my GOD, OH MY GOD!” Callie shrieked.

  “I’m back.”

  “Oh, Donovan. Thank God!”

  We went through all the questions as if checking them off a list, and set a date to have dinner.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting Eva,” I said.

  She laughed. “There may be some gay girl stuff going on. Think you can handle it?”

  “Let me think a minute. Yes.”

  “Good. I can’t wait for you to meet her. Did you hear? She’s the lead now.”

  “I never doubted for a minute that she would be. But here’s the real question: have you told her what you do?”

  “Of course. I’m a decorator, all A-list clients.”

  “A job that requires extended travel.”

  “Exactly.”

  We were silent awhile.

  “How are you with explosives?”

  “Pretty current. Why, you’ve got a job for me already?”

  “I do.”

  I went through the details of what I needed from her, and she had a number of questions about that. When at last all her questions were answered, some more silence passed between us.

  “You ever think about quitting?” I said.

  “Every day. But then I come to my senses. You?”

  “Same.”

  Callie and I are alike in more ways than not. We both believe that the killing we do for the government is necessary, and we both love the danger rush. At the same time, we both long to be normal someday, with normal lives, surrounded by people who care about us.

  Oh, and we both love beautiful women.

  “Good to have you back, Donovan. I thought I’d lost you. I can’t wait to see you.”

  I closed the phone as Lou came into my office with a folder.

  “We’ve played this scene before,” I said.

  “With different results,” Lou said.

  “So, the new boyfriend is clean?”

  “Like an eagle scout. Sorry, Conner.”

  I stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. “It’s for the best,” I said. “And Lou?”

  He looked at me.

  “Stop calling me Conner. I’m sticking with Creed.”

  He frowned. “Darwin’s not going to like it.”

  “Fuck Darwin.”

  “Always an option, I suppose.” Lou’s frown deepened. “What about Tara’s people—aren’t you afraid they’ll come after Kathleen?”

  “Why should they? We’re not together anymore.”

  “What if Kathleen finds out Donovan Creed is still walking around?”

  “There’s no reason for that to happen. If it does, I’m just another guy with the same name. Other than size, as long as I wear phony contacts, there’s no way to recognize me.”

  “I have to confess, I hated the name Conner Payne.”

  “Keep the ID’s, though, in case I want to use the name on a job.”

  “What about Joe Leslie?”

  “We’ll keep that one alive as well.”

  “I’ll tell Darwin,” he said. He started to leave.

  “Lou—wait up a minute.”

  He stopped and turned.

  I said, “There’s something I want from Darwin. It’s important.”

  He cocked his head in an I-can’t-wait-to-hear-this kind of way.

  I said, “This face job I got, it’s amazing, yes?”

  “It’s a work of art,” he said.

  “I want Addie to get one. And I want all the charred skin removed from her body as well.”

  Lou said, “No way. Darwin would never authorize that.”

  “Tell him I’ll pay every dime.”

  “Donovan, look at me. To do what they did for you? That would cost millions.”

  “I’ll pay every dime.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “It’s a deal breaker,” I said.

  He paused a bit, thinking it through. “You’ll pay up front?”

  “Whatever it costs.”

  “I’ll set it up.”

  “What about Darwin?”

  “Better he finds out after we start, than before.”

  I grinned at my friend. “Thanks, Lou.”

  Chapter 50

  I caught him at 38th and Walnut.

  Augustus Quinn—pro that he is—picked up the tail immediately, slammed on the brakes, and threw his car into reverse, trying to hit me. I slipped lanes and passed him, then jerked my car into reverse and pulled alongside him. We continued flying backwards down Walnut several blocks, side by side, staring at each other, until it hit him. He mouthed the word “Creed.” I gave him a thumbs up. Then we both had to swerve in opposite directions to let the angry black pickup pass safely between us. I motioned Quinn to follow me, and we continued driving in reverse down Walnut until we hit Rittenhouse Square. We screeched to a stop in front of the hotel and tossed the bewildered valet our keys.

  “You ever try their crackling pork shank?” I said, pointing to the sign.

  “With firecracker applesauce? They don’t serve that here.”

  “Pity. In that case, I’ll have a strip steak.”

  “I look like a waiter to you?”

  “Not so much,” I said. “Want to join me for a steak?”

  “I’d join you for rooster knees!”

  “Well, who the hell wouldn’t?”

  Smith and Wollensky was still the premier steakhouse in Philly. Like its cousins in South Beach and New York, the restaurant has a bank of windows that offers great people watching. We sipped some bourbon in the main bar and rated the women. It was mostly sevens and eights until we saw a Megan Fox lookalike who had it all going for her: high cheekbones, sultry smile, the impossibly toned abdomen she bared for those of us who appreciate such things. She wore designer jeans with rhinestone-studded back pockets. Every now and then we caught a fleeting glimpse of thong when she set her purse down or picked it up, which by my count happened twice. At one point, while I was distracted by the soulless bartender, Quinn caught a down-blouse.

  “Real or fake?” he said.

  “I missed the defining moment,” I said, “but you date enough strippers you get a feel for these things, pun intended.”

  “So your answer is?”

  “Definitely real. Without question, you are looking at a gift from God.”

  “I agree. What do you give her?”

  “For me it’s an eleven.”

  “There are no elevens,” he said.

  “Look again.”

  He did.

  “You’re right. We need to create a new category.”

  I said, “Must have been a perfect day in Heaven, what, twenty years ago? This girl comes down the assembly line, God’s in the best possible mood, and, there you go.”

  “So for you it’s a religious experience.”

  “Some people see God in a potato chip.”

  “How do you rank her
against Callie?”

  “Callie’s a twelve.”

  Quinn was about to argue for a higher score, but two Asian girls walked past us wearing cut off jeans that showed half their backsides.

  “Look at that ass,” Augustus said.

  “Which one?”

  “Both.”

  “Okay,” I said, “but just long enough to make sure I can identify them in case someone called the cops.”

  “You’re a good citizen, Donovan.”

  The hostess brought out waiter to us, and we followed him to our seats. Of course, everyone in the bar and restaurant gave Quinn a wide berth. As we walked past him, a drunk guy said to a friend, “Gimme your cell phone, I think I just sighted Bigfoot,” but instead of laughing, his drinking buddy moved away. Quinn seemed not to notice. He was actually chuckling.

  “What are you laughing at?” I said.

  “I just remembered the name of the movie star you look like.”

  “Stop!” I said, “don’t tell me.”

  “Fine. But you know who I’m talking about.”

  “I feel like an idiot, taking this face out in public.”

  “Th e chicks seem to like it,” he said. “You’re getting more fingers pointed at you than William Shatner at a Star Trek convention.”

  Although I felt it was more likely the fingers were being pointed at Quinn, I said, “This is my test drive. So far so good, meaning, you’re the only one who’s laughed.”

  “I’m not used to you with—what is it, sandy blond hair?”

  “Light brown.”

  “How often you have to dye that?”

  “Regularly.”

  “And the eyebrows?”

  “Let’s change the subject,” I said. “How’s Alison these days?”

  “Ouch. How would I know? I haven’t seen her in years. How’s Kathleen?”

  “The same. What happened with Afaya?”

  “He never showed up. One morning his “cousin” was at work in Denver, took his usual lunch break, never came back.”

  “Someone tip him off ?”

  “That’s what Darwin thinks, but it doesn’t matter. The threat went away.”

  “How’d you and Alison start dating?”

  “Who said we did?”

  “Lou Kelly.”

  Quinn stared at me a moment. “I guess you could call it dating. It lasted a couple of weeks, is all.”