Night and Day (Book 2): Bleeding Sky (33 page)

“Well,
if you’re still here, you might stop by St. Bonaventure on Sunday. I’m
always happy to see a new member in our parish, even if it is only briefly.”
He smiled at me. “Charlie knows where we are.”

“That’ll
depend on if she has the time, Father,” I said. “We’re pretty much booked up
until Dr. Heymann leaves.”

“There’s
always time for God, Charlie.”

“That’s
what I’ve heard,” I said. “So what are you here for? Little quality time
with the ambassador?”

“Father
Josephs agreed to handle the noon mass if I didn’t get back in time,” he
said with a smile. “I thought I’d come by and share my thoughts. It’s been a
long time since I spoke with someone who isn’t trapped here with us in
Satan’s domain.”

I
nodded. It would be interesting to see his reaction when he saw one of
Satan’s spawn sitting at Heymann’s side. Even more interesting if he ever
found out that the Catholic church had known about vampires for centuries
and done nothing to destroy them.

“Enjoy
yourself, Father. We’ve got to get going.”

“Of
course,” he said. “Nice to have met you, Miss Martinez. Don’t forget my
offer.” He looked to me and grinned. “And there’s always a seat for you in
my church, Charlie.”

“Put
in theater seating and I’ll consider it, Father,” I said, matching his grin.
“I’ll see you.”

As
we walked away, Martinez asked, “What was all that Satan stuff,
sir?”

“Father
McCray believes that the vampires were sent by Satan to test us and that
we’re doing the devil’s work if we don’t fight back, at least on a spiritual
level.”

“Do
you think he might be right?”

I
laughed. “How the hell should I know, Lita. My focus is the physical world.
God and Satan can duke it out in the spiritual world without my
help.”

There
didn’t seem to be anybody around the huge transporter when we got there. I
sent Martinez around the other side to see if she spotted anyone. She came
back a couple of minutes later and shook her head.

I
saw a rope ladder hanging down at the corner of the transporter. “Okay,” I
said. “I guess we go up and look.”

Martinez
was right behind me as I went up the ladder. When I got to the top, I turned
and pulled her up.

“Holy
shit, this is big,” she whispered as she straightened.

She
was right. It was big. You could get a feel for the size looking at it from
the ground. But standing up top, with the vast plain of the platform where
Heymann’s trailer had rested spread out in front of you, you saw exactly how
huge it was.

And
it was hot up there. The metal bed of the transporter reflected the sun’s
heat. It came from above and below.

I
scanned the deck of the transporter and didn’t see anyone. As I was turning
to Lita to suggest we start checking the towers, I saw some movement in the
tower on the other side of the transporter. A moment later, a big guy came
out of the door at the base, moving fast. He wore soiled khaki coveralls and
had a baseball cap resting on the back of his head.

“Get
off my rig,” he said as he got close.

I
pulled out my area government ID card. “Charlie Welles, Area Governor’s
Office,” I said. “I have some questions.”

“I
ain’t got answers,” he said, stopping in front of us. “So get off my
rig.”

I
held the open ID case closer to his face. “Read it,” I said
softly.

He
studied the card for a moment, then spat at my feet. “Yeah, I’m shaking. Now
get off my rig.”

Martinez
stepped forward. She came to about the middle of his chest as she looked up
at him. “Mr. Welles is trying to be nice about this,” she said. “I’m not so
nice. Answer his questions.”

He
laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do
I look like I’m kidding?” she asked softly. “One word and a dozen Security
Force troopers will be up here in a heartbeat. They will kick the living
shit out of you, then toss you off your precious fucking rig.” She paused.
“Then we’ll go find somebody a little smarter.”

“Yeah?
And why would they do that? Because you told them to?”

She
smiled. “No, because I’ll tell them that you insulted the Security Force.
They don’t like that.”

They
stared at each other for a good thirty seconds. Then he laughed. “Ain’t you
a pip,” he said. He turned to me. “Fine, I’ll listen but I ain’t authorized
to tell you anything. I’m just a driver. You want information, you have to
talk to the crew chief, Ozzie.”

I
reached into my jacket and pulled out copies of the three pictures Takeda
had left. I held up Shuster’s. “Know him?”

“You’ll
have to ask the chief.”

Clarke’s
picture. “How about him?”

“I
told you, I can’t give you anything. Chief’s orders. I’m just here to keep
an eye on the rig and keep people off.”

The
dead vampire from Shuster’s team. “Do you know him?”

He
stared at the picture. “That a bullet hole in his forehead?”

I
nodded. “Yeah. And if you don’t give me some answers, you might end up with
one just like it.”

“Talk
to the crew chief,” he said. “He can tell you whatever you want to know. I’m
just a driver.”

Threats
clearly weren’t going to work with this guy. And I wasn’t prepared to
actually kill him.

“Okay,”
I said. “What’s the crew chief’s name and where do I find him?”

“His
name is Ozmankowski. He’s with the rest of the crew at the Cunningham
Hotel.”

The
name was familiar. So was the hotel. It was on the list Sara had put
together for Brenner.

Chapter
Twenty

“Nice
moves there, Lita,” I said as we crossed the square back to the command
trailer.

“Good
cop, bad cop, sir,” she said. “I throw a scare into him, he’s more willing
to talk to you.”
 

“They
teach you that in MP school?”

She
shook her head and smiled. “No, sir. Cop shows on TV when I was growing
up.”

Bristow
stood outside the command trailer, talking with his platoon sergeant,
Mackey, while they watched the line of visitors slowly move forward. Both
saluted as I approached.

“Listen,
I need to go off-site for a bit,” I said. “You think you can handle things
here on your own?”

He
nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think Shuster is going to get in line to see the
ambassador.”

“Be
nice if he did,” I said. “You’ve got my cell number if you need to reach me,
right?”

“Yes,
sir. And we can patch you into the tac channel if something
happens.”

“I
should be back within an hour or so. Definitely before the parade
leaves.”

Bristow
and MacKey saluted again as we walked away.

Lita
pulled the Jeep to the curb in front of the Cunningham Hotel. The Cunningham
was a four story box, built sixty or seventy years ago when downtown was the
bustling trade center of the city. With the coming of the interstate
highways to the area, business at the docks on the westside declined, the
bustle faded in downtown, and the trucks that came in over the Parker Bridge
and the others went through downtown, but didn’t stop.

These
days, the Cunningham billed itself as a residential hotel. Cheap rooms by
the week or month. With all the empty apartments in the city, paying to stay
at the Cunningham didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I guess it worked
for somebody who didn’t want to or couldn’t pay for utilities, or somebody
who chose to stay off the grid. I knew a few of Eddie Gee’s working girls
kept rooms at the Cunningham.

My
cases sometimes took me to the hotel, and I knew the guy behind the
registration counter in the lobby. His name was Sam, and we had a good
working relationship. I asked questions, he gave answers. Sometimes if the
answer was especially useful, I might leave a twenty-dollar bill on the
counter when I left. But not every time. I didn’t want him to think that was
part of our relationship.

“Mr.
Welles,” he said as Lita and I walked up to the counter. His eyes were on
her. They don’t get a lot of Security Force troopers in the
Cunningham.

“Ozmankowski,”
I said. “What room.”

“406,”
he said without hesitation. “He and his guys took the whole floor. Didn’t
want to do that, cause I had long-term residents on the floor, but the price
was right. Anyway, they’ll be gone in a few days.”

“It’s
tough being you,” I said.

“Should
I call ahead, let him know you’re coming?”

I
just stared at him.

He
smiled. “It was a joke, Mr. Welles.”

“I’ll
laugh on the way up,” I said.

The
elevator had a piece of paper taped to the grille that said ‘Closed for
Maintenance’. The edges of the paper were curled and it had a yellowish
patina. Maintenance was taking a long time. Years.

We
went up the stairs. The four flights I took a couple of times a day at my
office were good training.

The
fourth floor hallway was empty, though I could hear talking and TVs blaring
through the closed doors. We walked down the hall to room 406 and I pounded
on the door with the heel of my hand.

“Get
lost!” I heard a man yell from the other side of the door.

I
hit the door a couple of more times with the side of my fist.

“Son
of a bitch,” I heard him say. A few seconds later, the door opened and a
small, wizened man, somewhere between sixty and death, stood in front of us.
He was wearing a blue bathrobe that gaped open, exposing his hairless
chest.

“Who
the fuck are you?” he demanded.

I
held up my ID card. “Welles. Area Governor’s Office.”

He
looked at for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, come back this
afternoon.”

“We’re
here now.”

“Yeah,
and I’m in the middle of something. Come back this afternoon.”

“No,”
I said, shaking my head. “I don’t think I can do that.”

I
gave him a hard shove. He stumbled back, then went down on his ass, hard. I
winced at the thump.

Martinez
and I stepped into the room. There was a woman in the bed.

“I
thought I recognized your voice,” she said. “How ya doing,
Charlie?”

“Good,
Cheryl,” I said. She was one of Eddie’s whores. A fair ways past her prime
and twenty pounds heavier than the average working girl. But she had lots of
auburn hair, big breasts and a pretty face. That probably kept the
business coming. “How’s tricks?”

“Keeping
busy,” she said with a smile. “At least when somebody ain’t busting through
the door.”

“You
get paid already?”

She
nodded. “No money, no action,” she said. “I ain’t arguing with the john
after he’s already got what he wanted.”

“Good
thinking,” I said. “Why don’t you give us the room so we can have a talk
with Mr. Ozmankowski.”

“Sure
thing,” she said. She threw the sheets back and climbed out of the bed,
making sure that I got a good look at everything she had to offer. After
taking just a little too long to dress, she grabbed her purse from the chair
by the window and brushed past me, making sure she gave my arm a good rub
with her ample breasts.

“She
seems very sweet, sir,” Martinez said softly. “Good friend of
yours?”

“Close
the door, sergeant,” I said. As she did, I looked down at Ozmankowski. He
was still sitting on the floor where he’d gone down.

“You
okay?” I asked. “Didn’t break your hip or anything, did you? If you need a
hand getting up, I’m sure the sergeant will be glad to help.”

He
stared up at me and said, “Why don’t you go fuck yourself.”

“Might
just do that after you answer my questions,” I said. “So get your wrinkled
ass up and let’s get it done so I can get the hell out of here.”

He
slowly clambered to his feet. The bathrobe was hanging wide open, giving
both me and Martinez a whole lot more of Mr. Ozmankowski than we needed to
see.

“Put
some clothes on,” I said flatly.

He
smiled, turned, and picked up a pair of boxers that were on the floor at the
foot of the bed. A second later, he turned. “Better?”

“Not
really,” I said. I pulled the three pictures from inside my jacket and
passed him the first one. Shuster. “You know this man?”

He
glanced at it and shook his head. “Never saw him before.” He let the picture
fall to the floor.

I
stared at him for a moment. He stared right back. “And this guy,” I asked,
handing him the picture of Clarke.

“Mike
Collins,” he said. “Rigger. Tower D.” He paused, continuing to look at the
picture. “What’s wrong with him? He looks funny.”

“He’s
dead,” I said. He nodded and handed the picture back to me. Didn’t drop it.
I guess it took a picture of a dead guy to make him understand how serious I
was.