The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) (74 page)

“Ray, it's not exactly a head injury. It's
…
” he
stopped himself. “Look we're not going to know any
thing until at least tomorrow afternoon. I know you're concerned but it's not a pleasant situation and it might
be better if you two just go and enjoy your vacation.”

“I know you don't intend the insult, Paul, but that's
what it
is
.
What hospital's she in? Map looks like we
could be down your way in two hours.”

“It's already half past nine. I've got to get some
sleep. Why don't you do the same and, if you still feel
like it, meet me at Davos Hospital first thing tomor
row?”

“Try keepin' us away. Meantime, we'll be prayin'
real hard, Paul.”

“You're good people.”

“You just get some rest.”

Bannerman held the phone against his chest. His
eyes were blazing. He looked at his watch. Two hours. He could safely sleep for most of that. Then he'd go sit with Susan and wait for the two people Susan knew in
all fucking Europe—her father's words—well enough to
buy them lunch.

He still wasn't sure. He'd wanted to ask Ray what
he'd be driving but he could think of no way that would
not be transparent.

But if they should turn up in a black Saab with a blue ski pod on its roof, good old Ray and good old Caroline
were going to die very hard.

CHAPTER 24

It being a midweek flight, Lesko, Molly Farrell and Billy
McHugh had the curtained first-class section on the
Swissair 747 largely to themselves.

Lesko had an aisle seat, Billy the window, and Molly
the aisle seat opposite. He had little to say to either of
them. The flight attendant had served a meal that Lesko
barely touched, and they'd shown a movie he didn't
watch. He drank through both of them, more than he
should have. Now the plane was darkened, windows covered, although the morning sun was still far to the
East.

Molly Farrell was asleep. According to Loftus she'd
been up all the night before, driving down to Virginia,
snatching his family before Palmer Reid could grab them and use them for leverage. Loftus owed her for
that, he said. In his eyes
,
that made her okay. But Lesko didn't owe her shit. She'd tried to be friendly. He wasn't
having any. He knew he needed them. He'd be lost in
Europe by himself. But that didn't make them pals.

He had one too many pals already. Fucking Katz was
along. Lesko would doze or his mind would wander and
there would be Katz, kneeling on the empty seat in
front of him, arms folded over the back, grinning at him
like some jerk kid all excited about being up in a plane.

“Dumbrowski,”
Katz kept snickering. It was
the
name of the fake passport they had given him. Katz
thought this was hilarious.
”1 bet they picked Dumbrow
ski on purpose. It suits you, you dumb shit.”

Mostly Lesko ignored him. Earlier in the flight he'd
tried to get Katz to help him think. Asking him the same
question he'd asked Bannerman. Who could have done it? Who did she know so well that they could catch her
off guard? But Katz was no help. Anyway, he stil
l
had a
bug up his ass about Elena. Katz heard him call her from ·
the airport. First Bannerman, then her. Telling her he'd be coming. Did she know who did this? She hedged.
Will she help him find out? Yes. Can you get me a gun?
She answered with silence.

“What are you, out of your mind?”
Katz railed at
him.
“How do you know it wasn't her who set Susan up?
If she did this to me, you don't think she'd give a little
taste to Susan for what you did?”

“It wasn't her. Forget it. ”

“I was right, wasn't I? You got the hots for her. She gives you a little sweet talk, probably just to throw you
off, and all of a sudden, by you she's Doris Day.”

“Listen
…
Katz. I got other things on my mind,
all right?”

”l know,
”
“he said, softening.
“Me, too. I'm her Uncle
David,
remember?''
Then
he brightened.
“Hey, you
know what? Maybe l
c
an talk to her. A coma 's like being
asleep, right? Maybe I can ask her what happened.”

“You do that.”

“And God forbid she doesn't make it, l
c
an take care
of her, I think. ”

The thought brought a clammy sweat to Lesko's
face.
“David
…
shut up about that ”

“All I'm saying is if
…
.”

“That happens, ”
Lesko said darkly,
“I'm going to
shoot everybody involved, starting with Bannerman
and the Reid guy, then I'm going to bite it myself so I
can get my hands on you because none of this would have happened if you weren't dirty.
”

“Shhhh.” Lesko heard the sound. “Mr. Lesko.
”
A
woman's voice. Molly Farrell. She was shaking his arm.

He stayed quiet. And awake. In an hour the shades
were lifted and the pilot announced that they had
crossed the coast of France. The sky was still a deep
purple. The flight attendant brought orange juice. Billy
McHugh leaned close to his ear.

“Can I ask you something?”

Lesko was mildly surprised. The bartender-killer
hadn't spoken since they left Westport. He'd been all
business. “What?” he said.

“Before, were you dreaming or were you talking to
somebody?”

Lesko closed his eyes. “Drink your juice.”

“Don't get embarrassed. I do that, too.”

“You do what, too?”

“Talk things over with a partner. It's good to do even
if people think you're nuts sometimes. Even Paul does
it. He told me.”

“That's very interesting,” Lesko squirmed.

“Anyway, you don't want to shoot Paul.”

Les
k
o moaned to himself. He'd said it aloud. That's
why the shushing. He wondered if the washroom was
free
.

“You can't shoot him now, anyway. Molly and I both
heard you. Don't take this personal, but either of us,
we'd kill you the first time you looked cross-eyed at him.”

Lesko considered this. It brought up something he'd
been wondering about. “You, I can believe,” he said.
“But the lady with the sad eyes, she doesn't look so
tough.”

“See?” Billy turned in his seat. He was warming to
the subject. “That's another thing I always thought.
Some people think looking big and ugly like us is bad,
but it can be good. It can save you a lot of trouble,
right?”

Lesko had to nod.

“People who look like Molly, and like Paul, too, they
surprise you. People like you and me only surprise peo
ple when we're nice. That's funny, isn't it?”

Lesko resisted rolling his eyes. This was like talking
to Katz. But he didn't mind. Maybe he could even learn
something. “What kind of guy is Bannerman?”

“The best. You don't want to shoot him.”

“Who do I want to shoot?”

“You already said it. Palmer Reid.”

“I said that, too? Out loud?”

“Yeah.”

Lesko glanced across the aisle at Molly Farrell,
whose hand was pressed against her mouth and whose eyes were shining. She was pretending not to listen but
i
t was clear that she found this exchange amusing in the
extreme.

Billy nudged him. “Your partner's name is Katz, right?’’

“Listen,” Lesko lowered his voice. “What do you say
we get off this subject.”

“And he gets jealous,” Billy nodded understand
ingly. “I had one like that. I had another one who didn't
like to work when it's hot.”