Mortal Fear (33 page)

Lenz must be reveling in the delicious irony of typing those words, that question, as though he had never heard of that literary character.

Here we go, I say softly. Here it comes.

Holy shit. I glance right to make sure the printer is still recording every word. Is Brahma telling the truth? Turning toward the bed, I call, Miles, wake up! Then I turn up the voices.

Score one for Drewe, Miles says from behind me.

You were right, I admit. Lenz seems to be pulling it off. Hes damned good at it.

I thought he might be.

Do it, I say sharply, though Lenz is a thousand miles away.

Log off, asshole! Miles spits at the monitor. But Lenz is greedy.

Inconsistent, says Miles. Hes losing it. Goddamn it, log off!

Stop pushing! I yell.

He knows, says Miles, staring at the letters still glowing on the screen. Lenz spooked him and he split.

Maybe not. A lot of exchanges get like that at the end. One person is always needier than the other.

Maxwell, Miles murmurs. Brahmas playing games all over the place, man.

What do you mean?

The name. Whats the first Maxwell that pops into your head?

Maxwell Smart?

He shakes his head. Think Beatles.
Abbey Road
.

Abbey Road
... Maxwells Silver Hammer!

Miles begins to sing: Joan was quizzical, studied pata-physical science in the home. Late nights all alone with her test tubes, oh-ohoh-oh....

I follow with, Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine, calls her on the phone

Whoa, he cuts in. Maxwell was a doctor.

And the chorus. Jesus.

Together we chant the now chilling words: Bang-bang Maxwells silver hammer came down upon her head. Bang-bang Maxwells silver hammer made sure that she was dead.

We stare at each other in numb silence.

Thats a big leap, I tell him.

Except that his other aliases were Shiva, Kali, Levon. Shiva is the Destroyer. Kali is a goddess of blood and death.

Levon wasnt a killer.

He wasnt exactly Santa Claus either: He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas Day when the
New York Times
said God is dead and the wars begun....

This is creepy, Miles.

He scans the printouts again. Lenz had the son of a bitch and he blew it.

I thought hed try to mimic Karin Wheats personality more. Get into immortality and the occult and all that.

Miles shakes his head. Lenz is in a hurry. Hes trying to cover all the bases at once. Hes giving Brahma a woman whos both strong and weak. But if we go with Drewes scenario, Lenzs approach is useless. Its designed to provoke by being overtly sexual, whereas Brahmas criteria may be medical.

What choice does Lenz have? He cant log on and say Forty-seven-year-old female seeks succulent twenty-three-year-old pineal gland. Please send photo.

Miless laugh is terminated by the ring of the phone. The impulse to flight flashes in his eyes.

Well screen it, I tell him.

After two rings the machine answers, my outgoing message plays, and a beep prompts the caller.

Cole, pick up the phone, says a deep voice.

Lenz, says Miles. He crosses the room, picks up the cordless, trots back to me, and hands me the phone.

Im here.

Did you see? the psychiatrist asks, his voice brimming with excitement.

I saw it. Not bad, Doctor.

I had him going, didnt I?

Has Lenz called merely to rehash his triumph? Like a high school kid talking about his football game? Maybe he thinks Im the only person who truly understands the parameters of his strange quest.

You saw his age? he asks. Forty-seven?

Yes.

And admitting that hes in the medical field! Cole, its working.

Miles leans over the answering machine.

What about the bit at the end? Lenz asks, suddenly penitent. Did I go too far?

Hard to say.

I know I pushed him, but Im fighting time here.

Miles punches me in the side.

I guess Baxters pressing you to nail him before he kills again, huh?

Im speaking of the phone traces.

Miles punches me again; this time I punch back. You mean theyre close to tracing him?

No. Theyre no longer trying to trace him.

What?

Before we put the decoy plan into action, we realized we were facing an either-or situation. If they tried to trace the UNSUB every time we conversed on-line, it would be obvious I was helping the FBI. You see?

Oh, I see. But I cant believe Baxter stopped the traces.

Its not indefinite. Hes given me seven days.

Then they start the traces again?

Now you see why Im having to push harder than Id like.

Is there anything else you needed?

Yes, Lenz says in a strange voice. Im wondering why you havent asked me about Turner.

I look at Miles. I figure youd be crowing about it already if youd caught him.

If you know where he is, Cole, do yourself and your wife a favor. Turner wouldnt hang his ass out to protect yours.

I sense the heat of Miless rage from a foot away. Yeah, well, opinions are like assholes.

Everybodys got one, Lenz finishes. Only a lot of people pay a lot of money for mine.

Theres a sucker born every minute.

Good night, Cole.

I carry the cordless back across the room and set it in its cradle. Nice guy, huh?

Hes better than some, says Miles. He points at the red
21
in the LED window of my answering machine. Have you listened to all those messages?

I didnt want them banging around in my head.

He raises his eyebrows and, getting no objection from me, hits the rewind button. A minute later the tape begins playing back the messages. Most are from various police departments. A couple are from old friends, warning me that theyve been questioned about me by police. One is a sales pitch from a credit card company. And six are from Detective Michael Mayeux of the New Orleans Police Department. Miles and I listen to his final message in rapt silence.

Mr. Cole, I dont know where you are, but youd better start checking your messages. You may not believe this, but Im worried about you. If the FBI has pressured you into some kind of cooperation, you better be damn careful. This case got weird fast. Theres a lot of bad feeling in all the P.D.s involved. These days the Bureaus pretty good about sharing information, but right now theyre acting like they did back in the seventies. Some people are saying theyve already screwed up the investigation. That isnt your problem, I know. All Im saying is things could reach a point where the departments involved just get fed up and decide to do what theyve been wanting to do all along, which is blow the whistle, shut down EROS, and arrest you and Turner. You gotta admit I treated you okay when you came to us. If you need helpand brother you doIm your man. Now give me a call.

Miles has wandered away from me. What do you think about that? I ask.

Never happen, he says distantly. Going public and shutting down EROS, I mean. City cops arent going to risk pissing off the feds to that degree.

Could we use Mayeux to our advantage?

Things havent progressed that far yet. Just ignore him.

Im glad hes not a Mississippi cop. Hed be sitting on my doorstep right now.

Miles plunks himself down on the edge of my bed and sighs.

You said they found Karin Wheats head near the Bonnet Carre causeway, I remind him. Headed toward La Place. That means he passed the New Orleans airport. But from the distances between the previous murder cities, I always assumed Brahma was flying.

He could have flown out of Baton Rouge, Miles points out. Its only an hour away, and you go through La Place to get there. Or he could have driven to La Place just to toss out the head, then turned around and driven back to the airport. The FBI doesnt know how hes getting around. Common sense says flying, but theres enough elapsed time between the murders for him to have ridden a goddamn Trailways bus.

Except the one-night interval between Karins death and Rosalind Mays abduction.

He nods. Theyre searching airline records, trying to match passenger manifests for the murder cities on given dates, but all matches so far have been legitimate.

He could have taken a private plane, I suggest, like you did to get here.

Theyre checking that. He looks up and searches my face. You got something you want to say?

Take it easy. Im just thinking out loud.

He runs both hands over his freshly skinned scalp and focuses somewhere beyond me. You been thinking about what we talked about? The Trojan Horse?

Some.

And?

Im up for it.

A broad smile lights his face. All
right
. Now were cooking with gas.

Miless occasional regressions to Southern idiom surprise me, but I guess every refugee carries cultural baggage.

Have you decided which way you want to go? he
asks. I mean, a real EROS client or totally from scratch?

Not a real client, I tell him. I dont want to put anybody at risk like that. But I dont want to start totally from scratch, either.

His eyes narrow. I dont get you.

I move closer to the bed and look down at him. Im going to explain this to you once. After that you dont ask me about it.

Sure. Youve got a name in mind?

Yes.

What is it?

Erin.

He blinks.

No questions?

I dont get it. Youre picking that name out of the blue, or youre talking about our Erin?

My wifes sister.

He lets out a low whistle.

If this is going to work, Miles, its got to be authentic. That over-the-top stuff Lenz is doing wont fool Brahma long. I mean, I think that gang rape stuff really happened to somebody, but not to
Lenz
. You know? Probably one of his patients. Brahma feeds on the pathos of real human beings. And Erins the one. I know things about her... things that could help me play her very well.

Whatever you want, Miles says quietly. I trust your instincts.

Lenz thinks Brahma is targeting older women now. Thats why he made Lilith forty-eight. But I cant play a forty-eight-year-old woman convincingly. Well just have to hope hes still interested in donors as well as recipients.