Extreme Denial (40 page)

But Decker wasn’t only thinking this. Beth’s shocked expression made him realize that he was saying it out loud.

He couldn’t stop himself. His anguished thoughts kept pouring out. “Nothing would have happened in Santa Fe if McKittrick and Renata hadn’t been fixated on me. McKittrick had been forced out of the CIA, but the official story was, he quit. On paper, he looked impressive enough for the U.S. Marshals Service to accept him. He’d been keeping track of where I was living. When you were assigned to him and when he found out the house next to mine was for sale, the plan came together.”

Decker braced himself. His ordeal of saving Beth had been aimed toward this moment, and now the moment had come. He couldn’t put off the question any longer. He had to know. “Were you aware of my background when you first met me?” Her eyes still shut, Beth didn’t answer. Her chest heaved, agitated.

“Before you came to my office, did McKittrick tell you I’d worked for the CIA? Did he instruct you to play up to me, to do your best to make me feel close to you so I’d want to spend all my spare time with you and, in effect, be your next-door-neighbor bodyguard?”

Beth remained silent, breathing with difficulty.

“That would have been their revenge,” Decker said. “To manipulate me into falling in love with you, then to betray you to the mob. By destroying your life, they hoped to destroy mine. And the mob would pay them for their pleasure.”

“I see lights,” Esperanza interrupted, steering swiftly around a corner. “That’s the interstate ahead.”

“I have to know, Beth.
Did McKittrick tell you to try to make me fall in love with you?”

She still didn’t answer. How could he make her tell him the truth? Unexpectedly, as they reached the interstate, the glare of passing headlights spilled into the backseat, showing Decker that Beth hadn’t closed her eyes because she was trying to avoid his gaze. Her body was limp, her breathing now shallow. She had passed out.

3

It was 3:00
A.M.
when Esperanza, following Decker’s directions, sped to a stop at a brownstone on Manhattan’s West Eighty-second Street. That late at night, the affluent neighborhood was quiet, the rainy street deserted. No one was around to see Decker and Esperanza carry Beth from the car and into the brownstone’s vestibule. Worried by her increasing weakness, Decker pressed the intercom button for apartment 8. As he anticipated, instead of having to push the button several times and wait for a sleepy voice to ask what he wanted, he received an immediate response. The person upstairs had been alerted by an emergency phone call Decker had made from a service station along the interstate. A buzzer sounded, the signal that the lock on the vestibule’s inner door had been electronically released.

Decker and Esperanza hurried through, found the elevator waiting for them, and went up to the fourth floor, frustrated by the elevator’s slow rise. The moment the elevator’s door opened, a man wearing rumpled clothes that made him look as if he had dressed quickly hurried from an apartment and helped to carry Beth inside. The man was tall and exceedingly thin, with a high forehead and a salt-and-pepper mustache. Decker heard a noise behind him and turned, to see a heavyset woman with gray hair and a worried look shut and lock the door behind them.

The man directed Decker and Esperanza to the left, into a brightly lit kitchen, where a plastic sheet had been spread across the table, other sheets on the floor. Surgical instruments were laid out on a protected counter. Water boiled on the stove. The woman, who wore hospital greens, blurted to Decker, “Wash your hands.”

Decker obeyed, crowding with the man and the woman at the sink, using a bottle of bitter-smelling liquid to disinfect his hands. The woman helped the man put on a surgical mask, a Plexiglas face shield, and latex gloves, then gestured for Decker to help
her
put on a mask, shield, and gloves. Without pausing, the woman used scissors to cut Beth’s bloodstained slacks, exposing her right leg all the way up to her underwear. Now that the pressure bandage was removed, the jagged hole spurted blood.

“When did this happen?” The doctor pressed a gloved finger against the flesh next to the wound. The bleeding stopped.

“Forty minutes ago,” Decker said. Rainwater dripped from him onto the plastic sheet on the floor.

“How soon did you restrict the flow of blood?”

“Almost immediately.”

“You saved her life.”

While the woman used surgical sponges to wipe blood from the wound, the doctor swabbed alcohol onto Beth’s injured leg, then gave her an injection. But despite what the doctor explained was a painkiller, Beth moaned when the doctor used surgical tweezers to examine the interior of the wound and determine if there was any debris inside.

“I can’t be certain. This will have to be quick and crude, just to get the bleeding stopped. She needs an X ray. Intravenous fluids. Possibly microsurgery if the femoral artery was nicked.” The doctor gave Beth another injection, this time of what he explained was an antibiotic. “But she’ll need more antibiotics on a regular schedule after she leaves here.”

The woman swabbed the wound with a brownish disinfectant while the doctor peered close to the wound, studying it with spectacles, one lens of which had a small additional lens that he swiveled into place. As soon as the woman finished disinfecting the area around the wound, she put a finger where the doctor had been applying pressure, allowing him to begin suturing.

“You shouldn’t have called me,” the doctor complained to Decker as he worked.

“I didn’t have a choice.” Decker studied Beth, whose face, moist with rain and sweat, was the gray of porridge.

“But you’re not with the organization any longer,” the doctor said.

“I didn’t know you had heard.”

“Evidently. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have presumed to contact me.”

“I meant what I said. I didn’t have a choice. Besides, if you knew I wasn’t sanctioned, you didn’t have to agree to help me.” Decker held Beth’s hand. Her fingers clutched his as if she was drowning.

“In that respect,
I’m
the one who didn’t have a choice.” The doctor continued suturing. “As you so vividly told me on the phone, you intended to cause trouble in this building if I didn’t help.”

“I doubt the neighbors would have approved of your sideline.”

The woman peered up angrily from where she assisted. “You contaminated our
home.
You know where the clinic is. You could have—”

“There wasn’t time,” Decker said. “You once treated
me
here.”

“That was an
exception
.”

“I know of
other
exceptions you made. For a generous fee. I assume that’s another reason you agreed to help.”

The doctor frowned up from the sutures he applied. “What generous fee did you have in mind?”

“In my travel bag, I have an eighteen-karat gold chain, a gold bracelet, a jade ring, and a dozen gold coins.”

“Not money?” The doctor frowned harder.

“They’re worth around twelve thousand dollars. Put them in a sock for when times get tough. Believe me, they come in handy if you have to leave the country in a hurry and you can’t trust going to a bank.”

“That hasn’t been a problem of ours.”

“To date,” Decker said. “I suggest you do the best job you can on this woman.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You must have misunderstood. I was cheering you on.” The doctor frowned even more severely, then concentrated on applying more sutures. “Under the circumstances, my fee for this procedure is twenty thousand dollars.”

“What?”

“I consider the items you mentioned only a down payment.” The doctor straightened, no longer working. “Is my fee a problem?”

Decker stared at the half-closed hole in Beth’s leg. “No.”

“I thought not.” The doctor resumed working. “Where are the items?”

“Over here. In my travel bag.” Decker turned toward where he had dropped it when he helped carry Beth into the kitchen. “And what about the remaining amount?”

“You’ll get it.”

“How can I be certain?”

“You have my word. If that isn’t good enough—” Esperanza interrupted the tension. “Look, I feel useless just standing here. There must be something I can do to help.”

“The blood in the hallway and the elevator,” the woman said. “The neighbors will call the police if they see it. Clean it up.”

Her peremptory tone suggested that she thought she was speaking to an Hispanic servant, but although Esperanza’s dark eyes flashed, he only responded, “What can I use?”

“Under the sink, there’s a bucket, rags, and disinfectant. Make sure you wear rubber gloves.”

As Esperanza gathered the materials and left, the woman applied a blood-pressure cuff to Beth’s left arm. She studied the gauge. Air stopped hissing from the cuff.

“What are the numbers?” Decker asked.

“A hundred over sixty.”

Normal was 120 over 80. “Low, but not in the danger zone.”

The woman nodded. “She’s very lucky.”

“Yeah, you can see how lucky she looks.”

“You don’t look so good yourself.”

The phone rang, its jangle so intrusive that Decker, the doctor, and his wife tensed, staring at it. It was mounted to the wall, next to the Sub-Zero refrigerator. It rang again. “Who’d be calling at this hour?”

“I have a patient in intensive care.” The doctor continued working. “I left instructions for the hospital to phone me if the patient’s condition worsened. When
you
called, that’s what I thought it would be about.” He held up his blood-smeared gloves and gestured toward those on his wife. “But I can’t answer the phone with these.”

It rang again.

“And I don’t want you to stop what you’re doing.” Decker picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Awfully predictable, Decker.”

Hearing McKittrick’s smug voice, Decker stopped breathing. He clutched the phone .with knuckle-whitening force.

“What’s the matter?” McKittrick asked on the other end. “Not feeling sociable? Don’t want to talk. No problem. I’ll carry the conversation for both of us.”

“Who is it?” the doctor asked.

Decker held up his free hand, warning the man to be quiet. “Maybe I’m not the idiot you thought I was, huh?” McKittrick asked. “When I saw you cinching your belt around the woman’s leg, I said to myself, Where’s the logical place he’ll take her? And by God, I was right. I was watching from a doorway down the street when you arrived. You must have forgotten
I
was taught about this place, too. All of a sudden, you’re as predictable as hell. You know what I think?” Decker didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question,” McKittrick demanded. “You’d better talk to me, or I’m going to make this much worse than I planned.”

“All right. What are you thinking?”

“I think you’re losing your touch.”

“I’m tired of this,” Decker said. “Pay attention. Our deal still holds. Leave us alone. I won’t give you another thought.”

“Is that a fact?”

“I won’t come after you.”

“It seems to me, old buddy, that you’re missing the point.
I’m
coming after
you”

“You mean you and
Renata
.”

“So you figured out who that was in the car?”

“Your tradecraft didn’t use to be this good. She’s been teaching you.”

“Yeah? Well, she also wants to teach
you
something, Decker—what it’s like to lose somebody you love. Look out the window. Toward the front of the building.”

Click.
The connection was broken.

4

Slowly Decker lowered the phone.

“Who
was
that?” the doctor insisted.

Look out the window? Decker asked himself in dismay. Why? So I’ll show myself? So I’ll make myself a target? Sickeningly, he remembered that Esperanza wasn’t in the room. He had left the apartment to clean the blood from the hallway and the elevator. Had he started in the lobby? Had McKittrick—

“Esperanza!” Decker raced from the kitchen. He yanked the front door open and hurried out into the corridor, hoping to see Esperanza but finding the area deserted. The needle above the closed elevator door indicated that the compartment was at the ground floor. About to push the up button, Decker recalled how slow the elevator had been. He charged down the stairs.

“
Esperanza
!” Decker took the steps three at a time, the impact of his shoes echoing in the stairwell. He reached the third floor and then the second. “ESPERANZA!” He thought he heard a muffled voice shout a reply. Decker yelled, “Get out of the lobby! Take cover!” Then he jumped down a half a dozen steps toward the final floor. He heard a heavy clatter, as if a pail was being dropped. “McKittrick and Renata are outside! Get up the stairs! “He swung toward the final continuation of the stairwell, reached the midway landing, swung again, and was shocked to see Esperanza staring up at him, not moving.

Decker leapt, diving down the remainder of the stairs, colliding against Esperanza’s chest, knocking him past the open door of the elevator and toward an alcove in the lobby.

Immediately the lobby was filled with blazing thunder. A deafening blast from the street disintegrated the lobby’s glass door. Striking the floor with Esperanza, Decker was aware of shrapnel zipping through the air, chunks of wood, metal, and glass hurtling past him, objects slamming against the walls. Then the lobby became unnaturally still, as if the air had been sucked out of it. Certainly that was how Decker felt, out of breath. Lying next to Esperanza in the alcove, he tried to get his chest to work, to take in air. Slowly, painfully, he managed.

Through smoke, he peered up, seeing shards of glass embedded in the walls. He risked a glance beyond the lobby’s gaping entrance toward where they had parked the Oldsmobile hurriedly in a no-parking zone in front of the building. The car, the source of the explosion, was now a twisted, gutted, flaming wreck.

“Jesus,” Esperanza said.

“Hurry. Up the stairs.”

They struggled to stand. As Decker lurched toward the stairs, he looked to the side and saw a figure—silhouetted by the flames, obscured by the smoke—rush past the entrance. The figure threw something. Hearing it strike the floor, Decker charged up the stairwell with Esperanza. The object made a bouncing sound. Decker reached the midway landing and swung with Esperanza toward the continuation of the stairs. Below, the object whacked against something, metal against wood. The elevator? The doors had been open. Had the grenade landed in—