Ground Zero Part 12
"All this a.s.sumes he really wants to know. But a.s.suming he does, he's out of luck."
"Why?"
"Sometimes paranoia pays off. Her mailing address isn't her house address. She uses a rental mailbox in Elmhurst just the other side of Roosevelt Avenue."
Jack had to smile. He used mail drops all over the boroughs.
"A girl after my own heart."
"Why do you say that?"
"Oh, no particular reason."
He looked again at the scrawl. It sure as h.e.l.l looked like b.u.mmyhouse b.u.mmyhouse.
House ... her house seemed to be a focus of interest. Her house ... but to her it would be my my house. What if ... house. What if ...
He took a pencil and drew two lines through the word, then showed it to Eddie.
Eddie frowned. " 'b.u.m my house'?"
"I think the first hump there is an r."
Eddie's eyes were wide when he looked up at Jack. " 'Burn my house'? She can't mean that." my house'? She can't mean that."
"I think we'd better get out there."
This time Eddie didn't argue.
12.
Ernst listened to Kris Szeto's report. The cell connection wasn't good.
"Her name is Louise Myers and she is still in coma."
A name ... they finally had a name for this nuisance.
"Address?"
"Just mailbox number."
"Did you search the real estate-"
"Not listed."
Disappointing news, but Ernst was glad that Szeto was antic.i.p.ating him. This was why he used operatives from the Order's European lodges. They were much more on the ball than their Stateside counterparts. He supposed his being born in Austria and spending his early years bouncing around Europe had something to do with it as well.
"How much longer will the coma last?"
"That I do not know. I speak to brother and friend. They look worried. Then they leave."
"Where to?"
"I think maybe to her house."
"Excellent! You're following them, of course."
"Not me. They know my face. I send Max."
"Good."
They needed access to wherever this woman lived-her computer, her files-to find out how much she knew and who else shared that knowledge. Once they eliminated that, they could eliminate her.
"Who's watching the woman?"
"Josef."
"If there's any sign she's waking up, we'll have to take action."
"Of course. A plan is in place. I will keep you informed."
Ernst ended the call. Under normal circ.u.mstances, he could understand why the One would be so intent on silencing this woman; but with the Fhinntmanchca Fhinntmanchca soon to be a reality ... why bother? soon to be a reality ... why bother?
That reminded him ... He speed dialed Dr. Orlando.
13.
"Remember that time in the Barrens when that cop locked us in his car?" Eddie said as they bounced and swayed in the Flushing-bound 7 train.
"If he was really a cop. Weezy had her doubts, remember? And remember how you faked being sick to get us out?"
The subway wasn't sub out here in this area of Queens-it ran on elevated tracks over Roosevelt Avenue. The afternoon sun, still high, cut steep, bright, mote-bedizened channels through the air of the not quite half full car.
Jack and Eddie sat side by side on an orange plastic bench. They'd picked up the train beneath Bryant Park and Jack had been watching for a tail the whole time.
Maybe he was having his own bout of paranoia, but something didn't feel right. Weezy's accident appeared to be just that-an accident. Someone running off with her bag-happened all the time. A guy following up on someone he'd helped on the street-not so common. Rare in a city like New York, but not out of the realm of possibility. But something was wrong wrong about that guy. about that guy.
He'd checked out this car and so far it looked pretty good. All but one of the people who'd got on with them was gone, and she was a bent little black lady, eighty if she was a day. But the place to bird-dog someone on a subway was from the car ahead or behind.
As he and Eddie talked, Jack kept flicking his gaze back and forth between the windowed doors to the adjoining cars. Last stop he saw a guy with short, bleached-blond hair peek into their car from the one behind.
Might be nothing, might be something. He'd keep watch.
"No," Eddie said, "you got us out. And then you tricked him and that guy in the suit into the spong. That was so cool." got us out. And then you tricked him and that guy in the suit into the spong. That was so cool."
Now that Eddie knew his sister was safe and in good hands, Jack noticed a change in his tone and body language. He'd relaxed some. And with the easing of tension came reminiscing time.
Eddie nudged him. "The three of us had some good times, huh? Flitting in and out of the Pine Barrens on our bikes. Some scary times too."
"Yeah, I suppose."
Jack wasn't much for memory lane. Much of the past was a blur.
"You were always playing tricks on me. I still remember the Rubik's cube scam you pulled. You really had me going for a while. I thought you were a freaking genius."
What scam? Jack tried but couldn't remember.
Eddie leaned back, his eyes unfocused. "I think about those days a lot."
"Really? What for?"
Jack seldom thought about his childhood. He'd flashed back every so often when he'd been with Kate or Dad or Tom during the past year, but for the most part the good old days were a haze. When he'd dropped out he'd divided the timeline of his life and had rarely crossed back.
"Good times," Eddie said. "Free times. No responsibilities other than to have fun. Remember sneaking out at night? We were always on the verge of getting busted for something."
If you only knew the half of it, Jack thought. The three of them had spent a lot of time together, with Jack and Weezy spending even more time as a duo. But Jack had had plenty of alone time when he'd done things on his own, things he hadn't felt free to tell anyone about. His own Secret History.
Enough of memory lane. The past was gone ... dead ... so much of it literally dead.
"What's Weezy do for a living these days?"
Eddie shrugged. "Reads and surfs the Internet mostly."
"She gets paid for that?"
"No, she lives off the proceeds of her investments."
"Oh? Her half of the Connell family fortune?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
Jack had remembered the Connells as being comfortable-their dad had been a well-paid union pipe fitter-but they'd been far from rich.
Jack's confusion must have shown because Eddie smiled and nudged him again. "Life insurance, Jack. My father had this big fear of dying and leaving us dest.i.tute. Add his brother, my uncle Bill, who was an insurance agent, and the result is a man with term insurance up the wazoo. Most of his policies paid double for accidental death, so when he hit that bridge abutment, the payout was millions."
"Millions?"
He nodded. "A little over two. To tell the truth, I don't think it was an accident."
Jack looked at him sideways. "Is this Weezy talk?"
"No. I'm not talking foul play, I'm talking ... you know."
Jack nodded. "Oh."
"The insurance companies had the same thought. It happened a year and a half after my mother's death, during which he'd been very despondent. I don't think he wanted to live without her. His seat belt was off, but he'd left no note, they found no drink, no drugs in his system, so they had to pay."
As the train jerked to a stop at the 74th StreetBroadway station, Jack noticed the blond guy peek again and felt himself go on alert. Could still be nothing, but their stop was next. Decision time approaching.
"How do you feel about that?" he said as he pulled the police accident report from his pocket.
Weezy and her father hadn't been close-he'd given her a hard time during her goth period-but Jack remembered Eddie and his father sharing a keen interest in sports, but only on TV. Eddie, a chunky kid then, had loathed physical activity.
Eddie shrugged. "Weez and I were both grown and out of the house by then, so it wasn't as if he was deserting us. We had no sense of abandonment. We grieved, sure, but he went into such a funk after Mom died."
"So Weez wasn't the only one in the family who had ups and downs."
"I guess not. My dad would never admit to something like that-for his generation, depression was a sign of weakness and personal failure. But in the end, I think I was kind of relieved for him. We'd tried to get him help but he refused. I thought time would bring him around-I'm sure it would have-but he couldn't see any light at the end of that tunnel. Took me a while, but I've accepted it." He looked at Jack. "Your dad, on the other hand ... that's a lot fresher for you."
Jack nodded. "Yeah. A whole lot."
Just a little over half a year since he'd lost his own father. Hadn't been suicide, but it hadn't been an accident either. Seemed like only yesterday they'd been fighting for their lives in the Everglades.
Eddie gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It does get easier."
"So I've been told."
He shook himself and glanced at the report. Witnesses said that the man who'd run off with Weezy's bag had blond hair. Still could be a coincidence.
Uh-huh.
"So, Weezy's a rich widow?"
" 'Rich' is relative. I hooked her up with a financial planner and she's pretty well set. She can't join the jet set but she'll never have to worry about a roof over her head and food on the table."
"Good for her."
"She lives very simply in a plain, no-frills, middle-cla.s.s house-no trips, no fancy clothes. She doesn't even spend what she gets, so her princ.i.p.al is growing."
A thought had occurred to Jack. If someone wanted to find where Weezy lived, they wouldn't need to tail them. If they had her name, they could find her address on the Internet for a small fee.
"Weezy's house ... she own it?"
Eddie shook his head. "She didn't want to own. I told her it was the best long-term investment ever, but she insisted on renting-but under our mother's name, of all things."