Vertical Burn Part 26

Since Tuesday morning he'd been unable to recall familiar phone numbers, routes of travel he'd used for years, all sorts of simple words, even the name of his cat. The phrase "it's on the tip of my tongue" applied hourly. He wondered if anything he'd said to these two made sense. Already he'd caught himself in a couple of embarra.s.sing misapplications of language, though neither Rosemont nor Freeman bothered to correct him, practiced as they were at letting people hang themselves with their own words.

When a uniformed officer came to the door with a note, both men exited the room. The officer gave Finney a snaggletoothed smile and blocked the doorway, arms folded. A large woman, she looked as if she played rugby-with the guys.

After a few minutes of silence, Finney said, "Am I under arrest?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then I can leave?"

"I wish you wouldn't."

Finney had thought about relating this tale to the police for so long that now he was acutely aware that he had only one shot. And they weren't buying it. He wasn't sure he would have believed it himself. The more he explained, the more he realized he was spinning a cla.s.sic tale of paranoid delusion.

Five minutes later, when Rosemont reentered the room, Charlie Reese stepped through the door behind him. It surprised Finney, until he realized Reese had been called in not only as the resident expert on fire operations in the city, but as an authority on Finney.

"Morning, John," Reese said, as amicably as if they were meeting for coffee. "I understand you've been entertaining these gentlemen. The Columbia Tower. Is that what we're talking about?"

"That's it," Rosemont said.

All eyes were on Reese now, who took his time with it, his voice silky smooth, his dark eyes unwavering.

"Gentlemen. One of our people had already brought up the possibility that something was going to happen at the Columbia Tower. I don't know why that particular building has become so popular with conspiracy theorists, but I can a.s.sure you we've checked it six ways from Sunday. There's no way we're going to let so much as a cigarette burn unattended in that place."

"You already checked it?" Finney asked. "Who told you about it?"

"I can only give that out on a need-to-know basis."

"Diana Moore?"

"I had Chief Murray check it for me. After he was finished, I sent in a second team, and they spent most of yesterday examining every nut and bolt. Then we had the building engineers go around behind and double-check one more time. Right now the Columbia Tower is probably the safest building in the state."

Rosemont, Freeman, and the uniformed officer who'd remained in the room watched Finney for a reaction; there was none. Finney didn't know what to say. He didn't know whether Reese was lying or he'd really checked the building. Reese strode to the door in a manner that signaled the others to follow and said, "Gentlemen."

"Wait a minute," Finney said. "Just because somebody inspected the building's life safety systems doesn't mean something isn't going to happen. You get one or two floors going in a building like that and it's a grounder, systems or not. Somebody could get in there . . . somebody could . . ."

Reese's voice grew smaller as they walked down the corridor. "Just like every other big city department, we have our resident two-twenties. This nutcase's father was a dear friend of mine, so it's particularly sad for me to tell you this, but if I could eject this poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d from our department, I would. Just like you guys, this is a civil service job, and we have to carry the deadwood. In case you didn't recognize him, this is the same guy who survived Leary Way last June. A few days ago he managed to get one of our best lieutenants killed at that pig plant fire. We're still trying to figure out how he did that. Also, and this isn't for public consumption, we're building a case against him for arson. Airtight. The trouble with-"

A door closed, insulating Finney from the remainder of the conversation. Now all Finney could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. It didn't matter that the house he found prepped for arson had burned down the morning after he reported it, or that he'd discovered a replica of a city fire engine, or that somebody driving that engine had tried to kill him. It didn't matter that Sadler had been dragged back into the fire building and left to die. It didn't matter that these men, whoever they were-Oscar Stillman, Jerry Monahan, whoever-were going to do it again.

It didn't matter because n.o.body believed him.

"You all right?" asked the officer in the doorway.

"Pardon?"

"You look like you're having trouble breathing."

"I'm okay."

"Good. Because I think they want to talk to you again."

Moments later the three men paraded back into the room, and Rosemont put his foot on the seat of a straight-backed chair. "Why don't you run through this again?"

Finney got up. "I told you what I came here to tell you. Now I'm leaving."

Rosemont looked at Reese. "Want us to dig up some charge to hold him on until you boys are ready with your own charges?"

Charlie Reese stepped forward. "I don't think that'll be necessary, gentlemen. As you can see, he's not much of a threat."

Rosemont said, "If the Chief wants you out of here, I guess you're free to go."

A few moments later Reese approached Finney in the corridor. It occurred to Finney that if Reese was part of the conspiracy, it would make sense to keep Finney out of jail so he could absorb some or all of the blame for whatever was going to happen next.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, John, but I couldn't go on letting you make a fool of yourself."

"Who else inspected the Columbia Tower?"

"An engineer from the building and Lieutenant Stillman."

"Oscar? Oscar's part of it."

Reese turned and looked at him. "You're not kidding, are you? You really think this is going to happen. John, get a sound night's sleep. In the morning make an appointment with a shrink."

It wasn't until he looked down the hallway and saw the redheaded officer who'd taken his report after his tangle with the fake engine that something became clear: Rosemont and Freeman had been eavesdropping on him and Reese. Eyes locked on Finney, the redhead began whispering to the detectives. Finney could imagine what she was saying. "Yeah, we found him in his truck all mangled up one night, raving about being run down by a fire truck. Nutty as a pecan pie."

57. RIDING LIES LIKE A HOBBYHORSE.

During the afternoon a carpet of fog rolled across the lake and began bunching up around the downtown skysc.r.a.pers.

At four o'clock Finney was in his kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing and scouring. He found simpleminded tasks aided his convalescence from the CO poisoning. During the day a dozen messages had stacked up on his answering machine-from Diana, his father, Robert Kub, from news agencies wanting to interview him about Bowman Pork. He'd listened to each and replied to none, though he was tempted to pick up the phone when he heard Kub say, "John. Get your things in order. You can expect visitors this afternoon." Finney's houseboat was the second from the end on a narrow dock, not such a hot arrangement for moving pianos or dodging widows and a definite dead end when the police came calling.

He realized there was a good chance he would never be allowed to put on the uniform again. Losing the uniform wasn't the worst thing that could happen, but for some reason it felt as if it were. So much of his ident.i.ty was wrapped up in being a firefighter. It left him with a satisfaction he couldn't imagine finding anywhere else.

He was almost finished with the kitchen. His checkbook was balanced, and his insurance and bank account information were neatly typed onto a single sheet of paper. He would ask Tony, who was allergic to cats, to keep an eye on Dimitri, and to put his personal effects in storage before renting out the houseboat.

At four o'clock a pensive group showed up on the dock: Charlie Reese, G. A. Montgomery, Oscar Stillman, as well as three uniformed Seattle police officers wearing black leather gloves and bulletproof vests.

G. A. Montgomery unfurled an arrest warrant, then stepped inside and bowed his head, a somber Stillman and Reese following. As if by prior arrangement, the SPD officers waited on the dock. Breathing through his gapped teeth with a whistling noise, Stillman gave him an avuncular look. With the moment upon them, G. A. seemed to have picked up a case of stage fright. In the tight quarters of the living room, G. A. seemed larger than life; his head looked as large as a bowling ball. Reese was the most chipper of the bunch.

"You're under arrest, John," G. A. said, almost apologetically from the back of the room. Without moving from the wall, he read Finney his rights from a printed card. He'd been crowing to one and all that he was going to put Finney away, and now his slow words and funereal tone were puzzling.

Chief Reese said, "Annie Sortland is finally alert enough that her doctors up at Harborview allowed G. A. to interview her. Says she saw you on Riverside Drive the morning of the fire. Right before somebody socked her upside the head."

"A captain, a chief, and a scoundrel," Finney said, looking around the group. "And you finally found your witness."

"I never put anyone away who wasn't guilty," G. A. said, reaching for the handcuffs on his belt.

Reese said, "Hold up a minute. John gave the police some interesting theories yesterday. Maybe he wants to share those with us."

"You want to say something, John," added Oscar Stillman, not unkindly, "you go right ahead."

Finney looked the trio over. "Yeah, I want to say something. I didn't set the fire. It offends me that any of you think I did. G. A. framed me. He knows it and I know it and I'm beginning to think you guys know it, too."

"Turn around and put your hands on the wall, a.s.shole," G. A. said, stepping past Reese.

"No, no. Go back over there," Reese said. "You're beginning to think we know what?"

"This is my gig, Charlie," G. A. said, forcefully.

"No, I want to hear what he has to say." Reluctantly, G. A. moved back. "Let him talk. Maybe he'll say something else to incriminate himself." Reese turned to Finney, his brown eyes teary with gloating. "You thought you were hot s.h.i.+t, didn't you? Voted top of the cla.s.s. And there I was at the a.s.s end of things. It's turned around a little, eh?"

"Is that what this is all about? A drill school that happened eighteen years ago? Jesus, get a life."

"I have a life. Yours is the one going down the toilet. Leary Way is what started it for you, John. If that hadn't happened, you'd probably be all right. But then, with guys like you, something like that is bound to happen sooner or later."

"I've been back there. I cleared out the corridor where we met that night. I found the exact spot."

"Have you now? What an astronomical waste of time."

"Bill knew something was going to happen at Leary Way. One of you guys must have given it away somehow. I'm thinking you didn't realize just how much he suspected. The night of the fire Bill ran into Stillman and cursed him out. I heard him call Oscar a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but I thought at the time it was in jest; now I know he was serious. I didn't hear what he said after that, but I think he was probably accusing Oscar of having something to do with that fire. A few minutes later when Bill got into trouble, Oscar steered the rescue teams to the wrong side of the building. And you, Charlie, you went in on the good side and made sure n.o.body found him from there."

"You actually think we went in to keep Bill from coming out?" Reese's face didn't often show emotion, but he was incredulous now.

"You wanted Bill to die the same way you want me in jail. To shut him up. To shut me up."

"This is bulls.h.i.+t!" G. A. said. "Let me cuff him."

"No, no, no," Reese countered. "I find this intriguing. Go on. Please. Weave your web. Let's hear more."

"I excavated that corridor where we met. My Pa.s.s device was maybe seventy-five feet straight down the corridor, twenty-eight paces. There was no way you couldn't have heard it."

"We never said we didn't hear it. We heard it. We just couldn't find it. Your directions took us in circles."

"You said before that I didn't give you any directions at all. And there weren't any circles. I can take you or anybody else there right now and show you there were only two directions you could have gone: the way I showed you or back down the corridor the way you came in. The only other possibility was a corridor to the left, and that had a locked gate closing it off. You either went out or you went in. You couldn't have gone around in circles."

One of those people who only pretended to listen while waiting for his own turn to talk, Charlie Reese found an opening now and began telling his story, a story that had been told so many times it came almost by rote.

"No. Here's what happened. You guys got lost, you and Cordifis. My personal theory is you panicked. You know how I know that? You never spoke on the radio. Bill did, but you never did. Later somebody said you were too amped to speak. I'd have to agree with that."

"I didn't speak because Bill had my portable. And we weren't lost. A wall fell on us."

Reese continued as if Finney hadn't spoken. "The search didn't sound like it was going well on the other side of the building. n.o.body really had a clue where you guys were or how to get to you. It was such a huge complex, and there had been so many remodels. I'd listened to the captain's directions and thought I knew where to send a search crew, but they were all on the other side. The only person I could find was Bobby Kub. I couldn't send him in by himself, so we grabbed a couple of spare SCBAs and went in together. We searched a couple of rooms near the entranceway, then went down that long corridor with the jogs in it. That's where we b.u.mped into you. We could barely understand a word you said. We took you outside and-"

"You didn't take me anywhere. I went out by myself."

"Anyway, Kub and I continued on, but the fire was getting worse every second. We ended up crawling. We crawled along the right-hand wall. We hadn't gone far when the heat got so bad we had to put our noses on the floor. We went down the corridor like that, on our bellies, searched a couple of rooms near the end, then worked our way back. It was so hot. I can still remember the sound of my facepiece sliding along the linoleum."

"You have any trouble getting over the pipes?"

Reese stared blankly.

"In the corridor. You know. The pipes?"

Reese gave Finney a coy look. "You and I both know that floor was smooth as a baby's b.u.t.t. There were no pipes."

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"If you found something on that floor when you were digging, it came down after we got out."

"They fell in the corridor as I was coming out. A couple hundred of them right behind me. I heard it. You heard it. I didn't know what made the noise until I went back. They would have been impossible to walk on and hard to crawl over, and they sure weren't smooth. You didn't go down that corridor at all, did you?"

Reese glanced at G. A. for help and then at Oscar Stillman. "I risked my life, is what I did. You don't believe me, check out the award on the wall behind my desk."

Finney's mind was racing down new pathways now, and he was furious. The problem had never been his directions. The problem had been the rescue team. The problem had been two liars who'd taken medals for their lies. Bill had been within reach of two masked firefighters who'd refused, for whatever reason, to step off twenty-eight paces to find him. From the first he'd been ill-at-ease with Reese's version of events, but because Kub went along with it, because it had been their word against his, and because he'd been confused about so many other things, he'd tried to live with their version.

"You're a d.a.m.ned liar," Finney said. "I don't know what you were doing, but you weren't looking for Bill. You lied, and then you rode those lies into the chief's office."

The room grew quiet.

When G. A. stepped forward with the handcuffs, Finney said, "No need for those. Just let me get dressed. Can you do that for me? You know how drafty the King County jail is. Give me two minutes to get some longjohns? One favor. It's the last one you'll ever do me."

Reese and G. A. exchanged looks. Stillman said, "What if he's got a gun in the house?"

"I hope he does," G. A. said, touching the sidearm on the back of his belt.

"Two minutes," Reese said, looking at his wrist.w.a.tch.

58. TEN MINUTES TICKING.

1630 HOURS.

Finney could hear voices behind him across the water, maybe two hundred feet off, several men shouting at once. He'd taken his oldest single kayak, knowing he would be forced to abandon it somewhere along the sh.o.r.eline, had stepped out through the missing wall in his spare bedroom and paddled quietly into the fog on the lake, leaving behind confusion and outrage.

He knew G. A. would call the police boat stationed on Lake Union and that, if not for the fog, they would be on him in minutes. Still, G. A. couldn't know for certain he'd taken a water craft. There were three kayaks left in the spare bedroom, the new single, the double, and a half-completed kit on sawhorses. Who would guess he owned four kayaks? When a lull came in the shouting at the dock, he guessed they were conducting a search, possibly extending to the neighbors. Mrs. Prosize next door wouldn't be happy. The last people to raid her domicile had been n.a.z.is in World War II Poland.

1805 HOURS.

Accompanied by a tall, elegant-looking woman with narrow hips and long, pipe-stem legs, Robert Kub, dressed in slacks and an open-collar s.h.i.+rt under a sport jacket, was exiting his house when Finney's cab sc.r.a.ped its tires on the curb. Finney thrust a handful of bills at the cabbie and climbed the front steps of Kub's house.

Kub began to retreat back inside, but Finney ran up the steps, jammed his foot in the door, and shouldered it open. Walking across the room as Kub backed across it, he pushed Kub's chest repeatedly with both hands, forcing Kub up against the living room wall. The drapes were open, the television on. Kub always left his television on when he left the house as a deterrent to burglars. Finney reached over and killed the big-screen.

"What's going on?" Kub said. "You get my call? They're looking for you right now. What?"

"After everything you've done, you're still trying to be my friend?"