Crisscross. Part 30

"You are going to tell me you got the tag number, right?"

Hutchison nodded and handed over a sheet of paper. Jensen glanced at it. New York plates. Excellent. A number of Dormentalists worked for the New York DMV.

He pa.s.sed the sheet to Margiotta. "Run it." He turned back to Hutchison and Lewis. "That still doesn't save your a.s.ses. I put you on-"

"There's more," Lewis said. "Just out of pure coincidence, I walked by the car just minutes before Grant jumped in and took off. I saw the driver. Thought he looked familiar but didn't pay much attention. After Grant gave us the slip it clicked and I remembered where I'd seen him before."

"Yeah? Where?"

"Right here. He's that guy the SO's been doting on. What's his name? Am-something."

"Amurri." Jensen felt a huge smile spreading across his face. "Jason Amurri." He turned to Margiotta again. "But he's not Jason Amurri, is he."

"If he's working with Grant, I think we can go a hundred percent on that, no problem."

Jensen rubbed his hands together. "We know who he's not. And before the night is out we'll know who he is."

10.

"So," Jamie said. "What's the situation? Why the big rush to see me tonight? I a.s.sume it wasn't because of my great looks and sparkling personality."

Jack wore a blue V-neck sweater over a T-s.h.i.+rt and jeans and looked good as he gave her a wan smile.

"You never know."

Right answer, she thought.

After pa.s.sing her place they'd stayed on the West Side, heading downtown. Jack found a lot in the Forties, in what used to be called h.e.l.l's Kitchen, and Jamie noticed how he gave the attendant an extra couple of bucks to park his car where it wasn't visible from the street. Attention to detail-she liked that in a man. There was a lot to like about this fellow.

A short walk brought them to this little bar off Tenth Avenue. She'd already forgotten its name. Dusty and dingy, but only a quarter full, which gave them some s.p.a.ce in a rear booth.

With half of a Dewar's and soda making its way through her system, she felt herself begin to relax. But only a little. One thing to suspect your home is being watched; something totally other to spot the guy doing the watching.

"I saw the globe today," Jack said. His bar draft sat before him, untouched.

"Brady's globe?"

He nodded. "Got a good, long look."

If true, it was a h.e.l.l of a coup. But he didn't sound too happy about it.

"And?"

"Something about the lights and all the crisscrossing lines set my teeth on edge. Didn't know why, but just looking at it struck a sour note. Took me a while to realize that the pattern was familiar. Took me a little longer to remember where I'd seen it before."

"Great! So then you know what it's all about."

He shook his head. "Still don't know that. But I'll show you where I saw it."

He lifted the small plastic shopping bag that had been sitting beside him on the bench. He'd removed it from the car's back seat when they'd parked, but had only shaken his head when she'd asked what was in it.

He pushed his beer aside and laid the bag on the wet ring it left on the table. Then he sat quietly, staring at it.

Jamie felt a rising impatience. What was all the drama here?

"Well?"

"You're not going to believe what I'm going to tell you," he said without looking up. "Sometimes I don't believe it myself, but then I look at this and know it's real."

Sounds like the opening line to a bad horror story, she thought.

"Try me."

"Okay." He reached into the bag and brought out a quarter-folded piece of thick beige fabric, maybe a foot long and a little less wide. As he began to unfold it she realized it was some sort of leather. He flattened it on the table-top between them.

Jamie leaned forward for a better look. She saw a slightly rough surface, dimpled with pockmarks of varying sizes. The larger were a dull, dusky red, the smaller pale and slightly glossy. Connecting them all were a hundred, maybe more, fine lines, mechanical-pencil thin.

"This is what's on the globe?"

Jack nodded. "The reason it took me so long to recognize it was because the pattern was wrapped around a sphere. Even though it was rotating, I never saw the whole design at once. I mean, I would have recognized it if this"-he tapped the design-"included outlines of the oceans and continents, but as you can see, it doesn't. Still it rang a bell somewhere in my head. Took me most of the day to make the connection."

"Okay, so this is the same pattern of lights and lines as on the globe. What's so unbelievable about that?"

"That's not the unbelievable part."

"All right then, what is?"

Jack didn't answer. He simply stared at the leather and gently ran a hand over its surface.

Jamie took another sip of her Scotch. She was getting annoyed.

Her turn to tap the leather. Hmmm... soft. She let her hand rest on it, placing a fingertip in one of the pocks.

"Does this thing get us any closer to figuring out why he keeps the globe situation so secret?"

"No, but-"

"Then what's the point? Where'd you find it? Maybe there's a clue in that. If Brady didn't make this then someone connected to him did. If we can talk to him-"

"She's dead."

She? Dead? Jamie felt her chest tighten.

"How? Tell me she died of a heart attack or something. Please don't tell me she was murdered."

"Wish I could. This is all that's left of her."

Jamie's chest tightened further.

"I don't..."

"This is her skin... from her back."

She s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand back. "You're s.h.i.+tting me, right?"

Finally he looked up at her. She knew even before he shook his head that he wasn't.

"The only reason I'm telling you about this is because I don't know anybody else I can go to who knows more about Dormentalism."

"You mean... you mean a Dormentalist flayed this off her and then sat down and drew drew on it?" on it?"

"Not at all. Take a closer look." He waved a hand over the pocks, the lines. "This isn't a drawing. These are scars. Don't ask me how, but all this was on her back before she died."

"Before? But how-? Where's the rest of her?"

His eyes were leveled at her. She saw pain there.

"Gone."

Jamie didn't know what to say, but she did know her gla.s.s was empty and she needed another-needed it big time.

"I'm going for a refill. My turn." She pointed to Jack's almost full gla.s.s. "You want a back for that?"

He shook his head.

Jamie made a quick trip to the bar.

John "Jack" Robertson hadn't struck her as a nutcase, but obviously he was. What other explanation could there be?

But he seemed so sincere. Her bulls.h.i.+t meter wasn't even flickering. Did he believe all this?

By the time she sat down with her fresh drink she felt a little more focused.

"Okay, the lady is gone, but while she was living, these marks appeared on her back like some stigmata. Sorry, pal, but I don't believe in the supernatural."

He leaned forward. "Jamie, I don't give a rat's a.s.s what you believe. What I'm trying to get across to you is that we're talking about something bigger than just a money-grubbing cult here. Lots Lots bigger." bigger."

She felt her spine stiffen. "Well, if you don't give a rat's a.s.s, why show me?"

"I told you, because you probably know as much as any outsider can about Dormentalism-which may not be anywhere near as demented as you think. Have you found any evidence, any hint, anything anything that might lead you to think the cult could be connected to something else? Something bigger, something darker, something..." His mouth twisted, as if he didn't want to say the word. "... that might lead you to think the cult could be connected to something else? Something bigger, something darker, something..." His mouth twisted, as if he didn't want to say the word. "... other other."

"No... but I may have found someone who does know."

He leaned closer. "Who?"

Don't, she told herself. Don't say it.

But she was caught in the grip of the moment. This man had challenged her credulity-more like sucker punched it-and so now it was her turn.

"I think I've found Cooper Blascoe."

11.

Maggie had known the call would come, but not so soon. And not on the convent phone. Her stomach quivered when she recognized the voice.

"I really can't speak now," she said, looking up and down the hall. She was alone but she'd have to keep her voice down.

"Then just listen. I want to know when I'm going to see the money you owe me."

"Owe you?" She felt a spear of anger jab through her anxiety. "I don't owe owe you." you."

"The h.e.l.l you don't! I'm saving your holy-roller a.s.s by keeping those photos under wraps. So you owe me. And by the way, it's a nice-looking a.s.s you've got there."

Maggie felt her cheeks burn.

"I don't have it," she said, remembering what Jack had told her. "I'll get it for you but I need more time."

"You know where you can get it."

"I'm trying but it's not easy."

"It's easy as pie. Just start skimming a little every day."

"It's closely watched."

"Find a way, sissy, or your pretty little a.s.s and lots more will be plastered all over the neighborhood."

"But that won't be good for you either. You'll get no more from me after that. At least this way you're getting something."

"Don't try to play games with me. You're just a tiny part of my action. I'll cut you loose without a second thought."

Maggie thought she detected a note of desperation in his voice.