The Inquisitor: A Novel (23 page)

There it was again, faint but clear.

“Geiger!”

“That!”

Geiger stuck his head out the window and peered down the street. Two figures were trudging up the sidewalk toward them. He got out of the cab.

Harry, pulling Lily up the slight hill, was a third of a block away, limping, hollering, and waving. Geiger watched them move into the street to cut down the angle to the cab and then saw a silver flash behind Harry at the bottom of the hill. A car had turned onto the street.

“Stay here,” Geiger told Ezra. He started down toward Harry, moving faster with every step.

“Come on, Harry,” he said. “Move!”

Harry saw Geiger and stopped. He bent over, hands on thighs, panting heavily. Geiger arrived in a jog and picked Lily up in his arms.

“It’s Hall, Harry. Run!” Geiger started back to the cab with Lily.

Still bent over at the waist, Harry swiveled and looked behind him. The Lexus was coming up the street at a crawl.

“Fuck … me.”

He pushed all the air out of his lungs and lifted himself upright.

*   *   *

Mr. Memz, watching the show, saw Harry start hobbling forward as fast as he could. Then he turned west and observed the slow advance of the silver Lexus.

“Jesus H. Christ, here we go.” He tugged at his ponytail, his head swiveling back and forth, gauging distances. “C’mon, man,” he shouted at Harry. “Faster.”

Halfway to the corner, Harry’s knee buckled and slammed into the asphalt.

Mr. Memz winced and then looked back at the Lexus. “He’s never gonna make it,” he muttered.

Grabbing his crutch, Mr. Memz stood up.

*   *   *

If Ray hadn’t slipped back into a semi-nod, Hall wouldn’t be driving so slowly. But as he worked his way up the block, he had to check both sides of the street. Finally he reached over and hammered Ray’s chest with a backhanded fist. Ray’s bloodshot eyes sprang open.

“Stay awake! I mean it, Ray. Drop your end and I will send you to your fucking reward. Got it?”

Ray grunted in reply.

Hall saw them just as Geiger deposited Lily in the cab and turned back for Harry, who was twenty feet short of the taxi. Hall’s foot pounded the accelerator as his hand felt for the gun in his belt. With a rich growl, the powerful car sped up the hill.

Hall’s mind quickly scanned scenarios. Run them over? Pull up between them and the cab? Make a big show with the gun? And if a cop shows up?

He glanced at Ray. “You’re on Geiger. I go for the kid. He’s got to be in the cab.”

Ray nodded. The car’s speed and the scent of vengeance had kicked him into a higher gear. “And I want Harry, too,” he said.

As Hall turned back to the street, he saw a figure dressed in camouflage step out from between two parked cars. Leaning on a crutch, standing not a hundred feet away, the man turned toward the oncoming car and seemed astonished to see it.

Hall slammed on the brakes. Ray, unbelted, went thudding face-first into the dashboard. His howl was almost as loud as the shriek of rubber clawing at asphalt as the Lexus held its line, barreling head-on for Mr. Memz.

“Motherfucker!” shouted Hall, practically standing on the brake pedal.

At the last second, Mr. Memz fell backward, his crutch clattering, just as the Lexus came to a halt.

Hall was looming over Mr. Memz before he could catch his breath.

“You
blind
? Huh?”

Hall bent down and grabbed Mr. Memz by an arm.

“Get up!
Up!
”

Mr. Memz pulled his arm free. “Back off, Jack! I think maybe I broke something.” He let out a loud moan and snuck a look uphill.

*   *   *

“Go,” Geiger said to the cabbie from the front seat. “Fast.”

The driver hit the gas, and they bolted into traffic. Harry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to even out the pain. Then he leaned forward and looked across Lily at Ezra.

“You’re Ezra.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Harry. We’ve met, sort of. This is Lily, my sister. She doesn’t really talk.”

Ezra nodded. Nothing seemed strange to him any longer. “Hi, Lily,” he said.

Lily turned to him, one child’s gaze meeting another’s.

“I know lots of songs,” she said. “Do you?”

“Well, I…” Ezra paused. “Yeah, I know lots of songs, too.”

“That’s because we’re all born with a million songs inside us—and we know them all by heart.”

Harry turned to her, his mouth opening as if to say something, then closing again.

“But as we get older,” Lily continued, “we forget them. Every day we forget some, and every day we get a little sadder. But children haven’t forgotten too many yet.”

She closed her eyes and settled her head on Ezra’s shoulder.

17

When he opened the door, Corley was startled to find not only Geiger but also a boy of eleven or twelve with symmetrical pink stripes marking his face; a skinny, bedraggled man with a discolored contusion on his left temple; and a delicate woman whose unfocused, darting gaze immediately suggested that she suffered from significant psychological problems.

“We need to come in,” Geiger said.

The gathering at his door was so bizarre, and the wash of despair and weariness coming off them so strong, that Corley didn’t know how to respond.

“Geiger,” he said. “Who are all these—”

“Martin, we need to come in.”

Geiger’s voice was unsettling: the timbre of it and the crests of inflection were slightly different from the smooth, nearly atonal speech Corley was accustomed to hearing. He looked more closely at Geiger and saw it in his eyes. Something had happened.

“Come in,” Corley said, opening the door wide and waving at the two oversized leather chairs and the two beige sofas in his living room. “Please, sit down. Anywhere.”

Ezra chose a chair. Harry planted Lily on a sofa and collapsed beside her with a groan. Geiger remained standing.

Corley followed his guests into the room. “I’m Martin Corley. I’m a psychiatrist.”

Harry’s head snapped upright. “Wait a sec. You’re Geiger’s
psychiatrist
?” He looked at Geiger. “You see a shrink?”

“This is Harry,” said Geiger, “and Ezra and Lily, Harry’s sister.”

“Well,” said Corley, “this is certainly a very unusual situation. I think we can all agree on that.”

“Doc,” said Harry, “I should probably tell you that Lily’s been institutionalized for fifteen years, so she won’t be agreeing on anything.”

“I see.” Corley noted her collapsed posture as she sat on the sofa. “Clearly you’ve all been through a bad time. Harry, you look pretty banged up. Are you all right?”

“Far from it, Doc. You got any Advil?”

“Yes, I’ll get you some. Can I get anyone else something? Food? Something to drink?”

“Could I have a soda?” asked Ezra.

“I have some Diet Coke. That okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“And you know what?” said Harry. “I’ll have a
drink
.” Feeling Geiger’s stare, Harry glanced at him. “What? I quit drinking for the job—and the job’s over, man. You got any bourbon, Doc?”

“I think so.”

“No alcohol for him, Martin,” Geiger said.

“Come on, man—I’m not going on a bender. I just want a drink.”

“No.”

Corley was mesmerized by the exchange. Geiger the interacter. And what else? A protector, too. There was something appreciable to witness here.

Corley turned to Geiger, who was leaning against a wall, staring at something very far away from the room. “Geiger…”

Geiger followed him into the kitchen. Corley turned to him as he came in.

“I need to know what’s going on, Geiger. Especially with you.”

“It’s very complicated.”

“All right, but at least give me the short version for now.”

“Martin, there is no short version.”

*   *   *

Corley listened as Geiger told him the story. It came out in brief sentences, heavily edited, with minimal pauses. The boy was being hunted—never mind by whom. Geiger had rescued him—never mind how. The bad guys were still looking for them—never mind why. Geiger’s plan was to get Ezra back to his mother.

“And something happened to me,” Geiger said. “I had a migraine. And now I’m having … visions. Flashbacks.”

“Of what?”

“My father.” Geiger put a hand up. “The rest will have to wait, Martin. I have to go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I won’t be long.”

“You’ve brought me into this, Geiger. I really need more information.”

“Right now, what’s best for
you
is no more information.”

There it was again: the inflection in his speech, the use of emphasis to underline his meaning. Corley marveled at it.

“Martin, you can’t tell anyone what you don’t know. Down the line, if the police were to get involved with—”

“Let’s talk about the police, Geiger. Why don’t we call them? The boy is safe here.”

“Discussing this with the police would not be good for Harry and me.”

Corley’s cheeks puffed out in frustration. “This is unacceptable.”

“I’m going to go now, Martin. I will try to get in touch with Ezra’s mother, and then I’ll see someone, and then I’ll be back. Then we’ll find a way to meet the boy’s mother and that will end it.”

“You have it all worked out?”

“No. But I’m certain I’m going in the right direction. It’s like the dreams, Martin. It feels just like the dreams.”

Corley hesitated at voicing his next thought but decided it had to be said. “You never get to where you’re going in the dream—and you fall apart at the end.”

Corley watched something happen to Geiger’s face; the muscles shifted ever so slightly. He’d never seen it before. It looked almost like an appreciation of a dark irony.

But Geiger said nothing and then walked back into the living room. Corley followed. Lily and Harry were asleep, heads resting against each other at a tilt.

“I’m going out,” Geiger said.

Ezra hopped out of the chair. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to call your mother.”

“Then I’m coming, too.”

“No. You can’t be out on the street.”

“But I don’t want to stay here alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

Corley watched Ezra take three quick steps to Geiger’s side.

“I want to stay with you,” Ezra said. A wet glaze coated his eyes, and he grabbed Geiger’s hand.

“You’ll be all right here,” said Geiger. “Martin’s a good person. I’ll be back soon.” He glanced over his shoulder at Corley.

“It’s okay, Ezra,” said Corley. “If Geiger says he’ll come back, he’ll come back. You know that, right?”

Ezra’s eyes hadn’t left Geiger’s. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Geiger said.

Ezra looked at Geiger for another moment and then let go of his hand.

Geiger nodded at Corley and went to the door. He left without looking back.

*   *   *

Mulberry Street at three o’clock in the afternoon was a narrow stretch of commerce on the verge of gridlock. Even so, it never stopped moving. Delivery boys made their rounds by van and foot, shoppers walked past with bags of cured meats and pastas, old men sat on stoops chewing on dead cigars. A dense efflux of aromas rode waves of heat and the shifting breezes. More than once, Carmine had told Geiger, “If heaven smells, it smells like Mulberry Street.”

Outside the Mulberry Deli, Geiger fed some change into a pay phone. He had never used one before. He listened to the ring. Once, twice, and then a woman answered.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Matheson?”

“Not for a while. Ms. Wayland. Who is this?” Her voice had a “shoot first, ask questions later” edge.

“Ms. Wayland, my name is Geiger. Try not to be alarmed. This is about your son.” He could hear the sudden intake of breath.

“Oh God, I knew something was wrong when he didn’t answer. What’s happened?”

“Ezra is all right. And he is safe.”

“‘Safe’? What does that mean?”

“Yesterday your son was kidnapped by men trying to find your ex-husband, who is hiding—”

“What?”

“Please, Ms. Wayland. I need to finish as quickly as possible.”

“Where is my son—and who the
fuck
are you?”

Geiger stared at the handset, which felt unwieldy and strange. “I took Ezra from the kidnappers. He is safe now.”

“Where is he?”

“In a safe place. He—”

“Listen to me, you bastard. If you—”

“Quiet!”

Heads on Mulberry Street turned. Geiger clicked his neck and took a breath. “Ms. Wayland, if this was a threat and I wanted something from you, I would have said so. Take a moment to think about that. I want to get Ezra back to you. That’s the only reason I am calling.”

He heard a sob, and then a sniffle. “Go on,” she said.

“You need to get on a plane to New York. Please don’t try to contact the police. It will only make things more difficult. You will just have to trust that I am telling the truth. It is possible the kidnappers have your cell phone number, so when you arrive in New York do
not
use your cell phone or they may be able to locate you. Go to a pay phone and call my cell phone. They don’t have my number. When you call, I will tell you where to go.”

“But how—”

“Write down this number and repeat it to me: nine-one-seven, five-five-five, four-seven-seven-eight.”

“Hold on.”

Geiger closed his eyes. There was too much of the world around him. He could feel the weight of every sound, sight, smell, and molecule of air pressing on him.

“Okay,” Ezra’s mother said. “I wrote it down.”

“Repeat it to me.”

“Nine-one-seven, five-five-five, four-seven-seven-eight.”

“I know this is difficult, but do not tell anyone about this call. Do not share any of this information with anyone. Make up an excuse to leave, and leave.”

“All right.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”