F Paul Wilson - Novel 04 (14 page)

“Now I’m going to get
back to Snake.”

“Please be careful.”

“I’m just going to tell
him that the prescription is ready and waiting. But I’m also going to ask
for the answer to a question only Katie can give. And I’ll tell them that
as long as I know Katie’s alive, I’ll do anything to keep her that
way. I’ll perform any ‘service’ they want.”

“I am hoping you can do
this.”

“I’m hoping, too,
Ma.” But then what do I do? Sit around and wait? Call the pharmacy every
five minutes to see if the prescription’s been picked up? He realized he
was starting to fall apart. He’d be a gibbering basket case soon if he
didn’t do something.

Paulie parked the panel truck in a
lot on
Desales Street
and
walked over to the Mayflower Hotel. He stood in the entrance to the bar and
searched the late-afternoon crowd for Mac. Some crowd—only half full and
mostly suits. They called this a bar? Cushioned seats and a polished floor and
hardly anybody smoking. This wasn’t a bar—it was a goddamn cocktail
party.

Mac had called saying he had an
errand for Paulie. That got Paulie nervous. Usually they never left the package
once they started babysitting. Maybe Mac was making an exception because it was
a kid. Still, Mac had sounded a little weird. He’d wanted Paulie to ask
the kid if she knew how to swallow pills, and who was her favorite character on
TV. Poppy had got the answers out of her, no problem. But what was going on?

Paulie saw someone waving from a
corner and went over. He noticed the suits gawking his leathers. He stuck out
here. Usually he didn’t mind that, but considering the circumstances,
he’d have preferred to be somewhere else.

Mac sat with his back to the room.
He was wearing a white shirt and a blue blazer with a Spiderman pin in the left
lapel. He was drinking something clear on the rocks.

“How come we always meet in
hotels?” Paulie whispered as he took a seat opposite him. “There’s
gotta be less public places.”

“Where would you
prefer?” Mac said, a sneer playing about his thin lips. “Some
low-life dive that’s being watched by the fuzz twenty-four hours a day,
where we’d stick out among the regulars?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Look, Paulie. I meet you in
places where an unfamiliar face is the rule rather than the exception. If that
doesn’t make sense to you, then you’ve got a real big
problem.”

“All right,” Paulie
said grudgingly. Mac was right as usual. He ordered a Heineken when the waiter
came by.

Mac said, “You get the
answers I wanted?” Paulie nodded. “Yeah. She says she swallows
pills real good. Does it all the time. And she likes Maggie Simpson the best of
all. So what’s this errand you need?”

“The package needs
medicine.”

“Oh, fuck!” Bad enough
a kid. Now a sick kid. That explained about swallowing pills.

“Relax. Just a pill
she’s got to take twice a day. No biggee.”

“Easy for you to say.
Where’s this medicine?”

“In a drugstore a few blocks
from here.”

“And you want me to pick it up.”

“You got it.”

Paulie said nothing as the waiter
delivered his beer. He was pissed—and worried—but tried to show
just the pissed part.

“What do I get for sticking
my ass out like this?”

“Nothing,” Mac said.
“It’s part of the job.”

“No it ain’t.”

“Look, Paulie,” Mac
said, eyes blazing as he leaned forward and lowered his voice even further,
“I don’t like this anymore than you do. I learned about this after
the pickup, so it’s news to me too. I’m not getting extra because the
package is sick, and so neither are you.”

Paulie didn’t feel like
backing down this time.

“And what if I don’t
pick up the pills?”

“Then she starts flopping
around on the floor like a break dancer OD’d on ice, and pretty soon she
dies, and you and Poppy’ll have to find a way to dump the body. Plus
you’ll have a murder rap hanging over you. But not for long.”

“Why not?” The look in
Mac’s stone eyes told him the answer.

Paulie drummed his fingers on the
table. “I don’t like this, man.”

“Just do it and get it over
with. You’ve still got your beard. You put on those shades, dump the
leather, get yourself a hooded sweatshirt—bam—you’re in and
out and it’s a done deal. I’ll have you covered.”

“Oh, well, then,”
Paulie said, letting the acid flow, “I don’t have a goddamn thing
to worry about, do I?”

Seemed like an eon since John had
slipped into the CVS.

He’d examined every Easter
card at least twice, checked out all the chocolate eggs and baskets, and read
the ingredients on all the over-the-counter medications.

He could have hung out at the
magazine rack but that was too far toward the front. He needed to stay within
earshot of the pharmacy counter.

All the reading was eye exercise
and nothing more. None of the information penetrated. And if it had, he
wouldn’t have been able to make sense of it. He was too keyed up to
concentrate on anything except the names people gave at the prescription counter.

This is insane, he kept telling
himself. Why am I doing this? I’m endangering Katie’s life just by
being here.

Why was he here? He was never
impulsive. His style was to take the long view. Get the facts, act if
necessary, but otherwise stand ready and see how things played out—traits
that made for a lousy surgeon but an excellent internist.

But what kind of father had that
made him? Katie would have been spared so much if he’d acted sooner as he
saw Mamie decompensating. But he’d loved Mamie. And he’d thought he
could keep an eye on her. Wrong. He’d never dreamed she’d do what
she did.

Maybe that was why he was lurking about
this pharmacy. Maybe he’d learned that watchful waiting didn’t
always cut it. Especially where Katie was involved.

No “maybe” that he
wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. The waiting had reduced him to a
trembling mass of raw nerves. He— And then a devastating thought struck
him.

Snake knows what I look like. He
has to. He’s been watching us, waiting for his chance to snatch Katie.

What if Snake had already spotted
him and ducked back out, saying to hell with Vanduyne’s brat.

He nearly dropped the Easter egg
coloring kit he was holding as a dull roar grew in his ears. Oh, Christ, what
have I done? He had to get out of here. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

And then through the roar he heard
the counter girl’s voice.

“Vanduyne? I’ll
check.”

John grabbed the shelf to steady
himself. It was him!

Snake was here! He was picking up
the pills.

He fought the urge to peek over the
display to get a look at him… but his need overwhelmed him. Just one
look. He had to know what this bastard looked like.

He turned his head just enough to
frame the prescription counter between a pair of Easter baskets atop the
display. Two people stood there—an elderly, blue-haired woman, and a
stocky guy in a hooded jogging suit. John doubted Snake was an old lady.

As he watched, the girl at the
counter handed a white paper bag to the jogger. John noticed he was wearing
gloves.

Snake… that was him. He could
have been Elvis for all that was visible between the beard, the sunglasses, and
the hood. But that was Snake. Had to be.

John felt his weakness of a moment
ago fade as hammer blows of rage began to pound through him. The son of a bitch
who’d kidnapped Katie was twenty feet away. If he could get his hands on
him, even if only for a few minutes, he knew he could make him talk. Oh, yes, a
couple of minutes with John and Mr. Snake would tell him everything…
everything…

A small part of him was appalled at
the savagery surging through him, but mostly he reveled in the fantasy. Which
was all it was. Snake wouldn’t be working alone. Couldn’t be. He’d
have at least one accomplice, maybe more. If John harmed so much as a hair on
this guy’s head, the consequences to Katie could be horrific.

So was this all he could do? Stand
here and watch this monster waltz out the door onto
K
Street
and vanish into the afternoon? Christ, he
ached for someone to turn to, someone who’d know what to do.

He wanted to call Bob Decker and
ask him—kidnapping wasn’t Secret Service business, but Decker had
to know a helluva lot more than John.

He watched the jogger take his change
and head for the door. Before John could think it over, he found himself
following him.

What am I doing? a voice screamed
inside his head. Good question.

No heroics, he told himself. No
chase. No cat and mouse. Just want to see where he’s going. I’ll stay
way back, out of sight. He’ll never know I’m behind him. If he gets
in a car and drives off, I want to see the color, make, and model, want to
memorize the license plate. But that’s it. I’m not going to hop
into my own car and trail him.

But if he walks, I will follow him.
This particular drugstore was his choice. Why? Because he’s holding Katie
nearby? If that’s the case, I want to know. I’ve got to know.

He followed the jogger out to the.
sidewalk and watched him stroll toward
17th Street
.
The rage was still roiling within, the savage just under the skin struggling to
break free, but John was keeping himself under control.

He gave the jogger thirty yards,
then followed.

What the hell?

Snake stood across the street from
the CVS and gaped at the guy who came out after Paulie.

He’d watched the drugstore
for a while before Paulie arrived and saw no signs of surveillance. No signs of
activity after Paulie went in. That would be the giveaway— if the place
was wired for a trap, things would start happening when Paulie asked for the
Vanduyne prescription.

But nothing. Paulie came out and
took off on a prearranged route while Snake hung back and watched to see if
anyone tailed him.

And goddamn, somebody did.

Vanduyne.

“Shit!” The word hissed
through his clenched teeth. Was the guy stupid? What did he think he was doing?

And then Snake relaxed. If nothing
else, Vanduyne’s presence proved that he hadn’t called in the Feds.
No way they’d let him near that drugstore if they were involved.
So… he was out here on his own. What a fucking cowboy. What was he going
to do, follow Paulie home and rescue his little darling?

Fat chance.

Snake knew Paulie’s route
would take him around
Farragut Square
,
and then to the Farragut North Metro station.

He hurried to a bus stop at the top
of the square and hung there until Paulie came by. He saw Paulie’s eyes
flick his way but he gave no sign that he recognized Snake.

Fifteen seconds later, Vanduyne
came by. His eyes were fixed straight ahead on Paulie’s back like he was
the only other person on the street.

Snake got a good look at those eyes
and didn’t like what he saw. He was going to have to do something about
the doc. Now.

But what?

His mind racing furiously, he gave
Vanduyne a few yards, then fell into step behind him. As planned, Paulie
entered the Metro station. Vanduyne followed, and Snake brought up the rear.
The rush hour hadn’t hit yet, so it was still fairly empty. As Vanduyne
hung back, hugging a wall, watching Paulie buy a ticket. Snake came up close behind
him.

He had to make his move now. And he
had to be careful. No telling what kind of shape Vanduyne might be
in—physically or emotionally. A guy who showed up at that drugstore could
be capable of anything. He might go off like a screaming bomb. And the last
thing Snake wanted was a scene in a downtown Metro station.

He reached out toward Vanduyne.
Careful… careful…

John almost cried out when he felt
the fingers close on the back of his neck and the voice whisper from somewhere
behind his left ear.

“Freeze, asshole. Don’t
even think about turning around. You see my face, you’re dead. And
so’s your brat.” John reached out a wildly trembling hand and
slapped it palm open against the nearby wall for support. To passersby they
probably looked like a pair of friends, one sick, the other comforting him. If
they only knew.

Oh, Christ, he’d done it now.
He’d screwed up everything! Poor Katie! They were going to kill her and
it was all his fault! He tried to speak but his throat was locked. All he
managed was a hoarse croak. He tried again.

“Please…
listen—”

“No!” The hand squeezed
the back of his neck, the whisper grew harsher. “You listen! You’re
one fucking idiot, you know that? You want your kid dead? Is that what you want?”

“No! Oh, please, no!”

“Then why were you following
my man?” The pressure on the back of his neck increased.

“Why?”
my man
…

This was Snake, not the guy in the
jogging get up. This was the one he had to convince to take good care of Katie.
John squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated everything on his words. He had to
get through to this… this animal.

“Because she means so much to
me. She’s all I have in this world that matters. She’s my child.
Can you understand that? She’s my daughter and she’s little and
she’s defenseless and I’m responsible for her. If anything happens
to her, it’s my fault. And if anything… really bad happens to
her… I don’t think I can go on living. Do you see? Does that make
any sense to you?”