"That's not exactly what I had in mind, Lace," I said. "There's got to be another way to keep him on ice until–"
"I think I've got an idea," Karl said, and we both turned toward him.
"The county sheriff's an old fishing buddy of my Uncle Ned," he said. "Name's Andy Probert. I used to do a lot of fishing up here myself, and I've known the guy for years. I bet if I ask him, he'll put our commando in a cell for a few days under a John Doe – which is maybe the only name we'll get out of the guy, anyway."
"Hold him on what charge?" I asked.
"Doesn't have to be a charge, does it?" Karl said. "We'll call it 'protective custody'. Sheriff Probert won't ask too many questions."
"That sounds like exactly what we need," I said. "You wanna give the sheriff a call and see if you can set it up?"
"Absolutely," Karl said.
Ten minutes later, the three of us went back to the basement. Our prisoner, who was still tied as before, started when we walked in, but seemed kind of relieved that Lacey wasn't alone this time.
He looked at us dully. His face was streaked with drying tears, and there was a half-absorbed puddle in the dirt underneath him. I assumed that Lacey had so terrified him at some point that he had pissed himself.
"All right," I told him. "In a minute, I'm going to start cutting you free from there. When I finish, I want you to get dressed. Understand?"
"Yeah."
"Once you're loose, you don't want to even
think
about going all Bruce Lee on me. If you do, my vampire partner over there will tear your throat out. He hasn't fed in a couple of nights, and he was telling me earlier that he thinks you look tasty."
Karl smiled, giving the guy a good look at his fangs. "Tasty," he said.
"Yeah, OK, sure," the commando muttered.
When the prisoner was cut down and dressed, Karl handcuffed his hands behind his back and led him out to Lacey's car. She was going to drive them to the Pike County jail, where the sheriff would be waiting to make sure that prisoner John Doe was processed the way we wanted. Guess Karl and I should have taken separate cars, after all – we hadn't thought far enough ahead. I wanted to get back to Scranton as soon as possible, to brief McGuire on what I'd learned tonight.
Lacey started to follow Karl and his prisoner out, but stopped and turned back to me.
"I wanted to thank you," she said, "for leaving before I was completely naked."
"It seemed… I dunno… wrong to stick around."
"I wouldn't have said anything if you and Karl had stayed, but I'm glad you didn't. So – thank you, Stan."
"You're welcome, Lacey." What else was I going to say?
After nearly getting murdered in the police parking lot a couple of times, Karl and I had bugged McGuire to see about getting better lights for the place. He'd impressed upon the chief the importance of what we wanted, and he, in turn, had gone to the mayor. To the surprise of practically everybody, the city council had approved the funds, and our parking lot behind the building was now lit up like a football field during a night game.
The downside of all that illumination is that it makes you a well-lit target for somebody looking at the parking area from outside.
That's why when a deep voice from across the street yelled, "Hey! Markowski!" I scuttled behind my car, dropped into a crouch, and drew my weapon. I heard a car door open, and peered through the chain-link fence that encloses the parking lot.
Ivan the ogre was slowly climbing out from behind the wheel of a big SUV. "Markowski," he called, "I got a goblin!" He made a summoning gesture. "Come on!"
I was torn. I needed to tell McGuire what I'd learned about the next snuff film – but he'd be in his office for another couple of hours. If Ivan had found a goblin willing to talk about who had sent the hit squad of greenies after me, then that was a goblin I badly wanted to meet.
I yelled over to Ivan, "I'll be right there!" Having him bring an unauthorized vehicle into our parking area would require all kinds of time-wasting paperwork. It was quicker for me to go out to him. I stood up and walked rapidly toward the gate.
Ivan was back behind the wheel and as I approached he said, "Get in back, Markowski."
There was a goblin in the front passenger seat. Like all of them, he was short, with matted green fur over black skin. In the close confines of the SUV, I noticed that he smelled like wet dog – a big, old wet dog with bad teeth. The goblin was half turned in his seat, looking back at me nervously.
"This Fred," Ivan rumbled. "Only goblin I could get to come here. Has no English, so I translate."
I looked at Ivan. "Fred?"
He shrugged those enormous shoulders. "Close enough."
"OK," I said. "Ask him if he knows about somebody going out to Goblinville to recruit a bunch of them willing to kill a cop."
Ivan frowned at me. "Goblinville? What's that?"
"I mean whatever they call the place where they live, out near the dump."
Ivan turned to his passenger and spoke in Goblin, which always sounds to me like a mixture of Chinese, Russian, and the sound of a cat fight.
After another nervous look at me, Fred turned to Ivan and answered.
"He say human come, a while ago–" Ivan began.
"Wait," I said. "How long is 'a while ago'?"
"Goblins not good with time," Ivan said. "Could mean a week, a month – who knows?"
"All right," I said. "Go on."
"He say human come, bring meth – but not much. Give to some goblins, promise more. Want goblins to kill human – cop."
"Did the human say why this cop needed to be killed?"
More Goblin talk followed. Then Ivan turned to me again.
"Human say cop bad for goblins. Say he kill goblin, year ago. No goblin remember year ago, but some want meth. Meth enough reason."
"Ask him what this human–"
Suddenly, Fred stiffened. I noticed he was staring past Ivan, out the driver's side window. He pointed out the window and started jabbering.
I turned and looked where he was pointing. In the police parking lot, Special Agents Thorwald and Greer were getting into what looked like a black Ford Explorer. Ivan had the windows of the SUV closed, so the Feebies couldn't hear the goblin, fortunately.
"What's he so excited about?" I asked Ivan. "What's he saying?"
Ivan said, "He say that the human who come with meth, over there. The bitch."
"Bitch?"
"That what he say," Ivan said. "'That one, that one, the bitch'."
"Ask him if he's positive." I watched the Feebies back out of their parking space and drive away.
Another exchange in Goblin.
"He sure," Ivan said. "Say bitch come to where goblins live, bring meth, want them to kill cop. Some goblins say yes, go off with bitch in big black car – car like one just drove away. Goblins not come back."
Damn right they didn't – thanks to me and Sharkey.
Thorwald. The bitch, indeed. She had hired goblins to kill me. The only reason she'd do that was if she was working for the Church of the True Cross. Their own little double agent inside the FBI. Well, well.
I pulled some bills out of my wallet and handed them to Ivan. "Don't give this to him – he might use it to buy meth someplace. Buy him a reward – some food that goblins like, or something. OK?"
Ivan took the money and put it in his shirt pocket. He looked at me over the back of his seat. "We square now, Markowski – yeah?"
"Yeah, Ivan," I said. "We square."
When I finished telling him what the commando had given up to Lacey, McGuire was smiling – but then the smile faded. He said, "We'll need a warrant to raid the warehouse, and the judge is going to want to know on what basis we're asking for it."
"So tell him we received a tip from a confidential informant," I said. "That's worked before."
"But the confidential informant is Lacey – a
cop
."
"Yeah, but she isn't a cop in this department, or even in this county. Hell, she isn't even a cop in Wilkes-Barre right now – she's on extended leave."
McGuire rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, I guess."
"Take it to Judge Olszewski, boss – him or Rakauskas. Either one of them will sign the warrant application in a second."
"Hope you're right," he said, and slapped his palms on the desk. "OK, I'll have to alert Dooley, and tell him to have SWAT ready to roll night after tomorrow. And I'm going to assign two detective teams from the squad to go along, for extra manpower. I assume you and Karl want to be one of them."
"Bet your ass we do."
"Where is Karl, anyway?"
"He and Lacey took our prisoner to the Pike County jail. After that, I figure he headed home – the sun'll be up soon. Anyway, we're both on personal time tonight." I grinned at him. "I'm not even supposed to be here."
"OK, then," McGuire said. "We'll send SWAT, plus you and Karl, along with one of the other detective teams. And I'll have to get the Feds in on it, of course."
"No, you won't," I said. "And you shouldn't."
He stared at me. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
I told him about my visit with Ivan and his goblin pal, and what I had learned regarding a certain Federal agent.
"Thorwald," McGuire said, shaking his head. "Jesus fucking Christ. Are you
sure
?"
"All I'm sure about is what the goblin said, boss. And he didn't seem to have any doubts."
"Shit." McGuire closed his eyes for a second, his brow furrowed. "We can't use what the gob told you as the basis for arresting Thorwald, that's for certain. And there's no chance we'd get away with that 'confidential informant' crap twice in the same day."
"Yeah, I know," I said. "We can't bust her – at least, not yet – but that doesn't mean we have to tell her about the raid. If she knows, the Church will know, and then there's no point in having the fucking raid in the first place. All we'd find is an empty warehouse."
"All right, we'll keep the Feds in the dark, and may the ghost of J. Edgar Hoover have mercy on us. We'll have to keep an eye on Thorwald, as well. That'll be tricky – she knows all the detectives in the squad."
"Why not put Lacey on it?" I asked.
"The same Lacey who isn't a cop these days?
That
Lacey?"
"She doesn't have to be a cop just to conduct surveillance," I said. "She can testify under oath about whatever she sees, just like any other private citizen. And she's as good at surveillance as anybody we've got available, that's for sure."
"She's not likely to go all
Death Wish
on Thorwald, is she?" McGuire said with a frown. "The absolute last thing we need is having some Fed burned down by a cop, on leave or not – especially a Fed against whom not a damn thing has been proven yet. Nothing admissible in court, anyway."
"Lacey's got it under control," I said. "If she didn't cross the line with our prisoner, then she's not gonna cross it – period."
"Here's hoping you're right," he said. "OK, put her on it, if she's willing. Surveillance
only
– be very clear about that."
"I will, boss." I looked at my watch. "Well, I'm not on the clock right now, but if I were, it would be time to go home – or to the Radisson, anyway."
"Yeah, take off," McGuire said. "You've given my ulcer enough to work on for one night."
In the parking lot, I called Lacey – but all I got was her voicemail. Since I wasn't sure when I'd get to talk to her, I laid out as briefly as possible what I wanted her to do. I asked her to get started watching Thorwald as soon as she'd had some rest, and to call me if any problems arose.
As I drove to my palatial accommodations, I was feeling cautiously optimistic about the case. With luck, we were gonna bust a lot of bad guys in less than forty-eight hours, and wouldn't that be sweet?
Yeah, I felt pretty cheerful – that alone should have served as a warning.
I arrived at the Radisson just as the sky was lightening in the east. As soon as the door of my room closed behind me, I knew something was wrong. It took a second or two to realize that it was a smell – an odor both alien and familiar, which hadn't been present in the room when I'd left.
I drew the Beretta and stood, listening. I couldn't hear anything except my pulse pounding in my ears. Then the heater came on automatically, and I almost put three bullets into it.
I took a couple of slow, deliberate breaths, in an effort to tamp the adrenaline down a little. The rising sun had barely reached the window, and my room was still dimly lit. I reached behind me and clicked on the light. Squinting against the glare, I swept my gun across the room, but found nothing to shoot.
The only thing that seemed out of place was on the bed.
My pal Tim had agreed to instruct housekeeping to stay the hell out of my room for the duration of my stay. But
someone
had been in here, because in the center of the bed, under the blanket, was a lump about the size of a basketball, but irregular in shape.
A bomb? Not too likely. You put a bomb in somebody's bed, the
last
thing you want is to make it conspicuous.
So if it wasn't a bomb, then what? I approached the bed slowly, gun still in my right hand. I flashed on that scene from
The Godfather
when the Hollywood producer wakes up to find a very nasty surprise sharing the bed with him. Good thing I didn't own a horse.
I slowly grasped the edge of the covers with one hand, then threw them back in one swift motion. I had my gun trained on the bed before I could register what I was seeing.
His broad-brimmed hat had been knocked askew by my sudden removal of the bedding, but the sunglasses were still in place. The teeth were bared, so it seemed as if Sharkey's head was grinning at me.