John Locke - Lethal Experiment

“Well…we had…a bet…Hugo…and me.”

“Who won?”

“He did.”

I stared at him blankly. “How much did he win?”

“Like…the movie.”

“One dollar?”

“Yes but…it’s the…principle…not the…money.”

Hugo made a bow, reached into his pocket, pulled out a single dollar bill, held it up, and performed a strange little victory dance.

Victor said, “He’s…very proud…of his…victory.”

Nadine and I looked at each other.

“I think we’re done here,” she said.

When it was just me and her in the room I said, “When were you going to tell me?”

“I was working up to it.”

“You and Lou let me believe everything was fine with Kathleen and Addie.”

She looked at me awhile before speaking. “You want the truth?”

“Tease me with it. We can always default to your bullshit later.”

“Dr. Howard asked us not to say anything that might interfere with your recovery.”

“She’s engaged,” I said.

“She is.”

This, along with all the rest, was almost too much to bear. “I guess Kathleen’s had it pretty rough,” I said, “Addie too.”

“And Kathleen had every reason to believe you were dead. She attended your funeral, don’t forget.”

“Did she seem pretty broken up at the time?”

“I wasn’t there, but I understand she took it hard.”

“You think she brought a date?”

“That sort of talk is destructive, don’t you think?”

“You really want to know what I think?”

“I do,” she said. “It’s my job, after all.”

“I know she wants to be married, and it’s certainly better for Addie. Still, I think it’s pretty quick on her part. Don’t you agree?”

“I try to avoid judgment,” Nadine said.

Chapter 48

“Hello, Sal,” I said.

“What? Who is this? How’d you get this number?”

“Listen to my voice. You know who it is.”

“The fuck?”

“You got some work for me?”

From the dead silence on the other end of the line I could practically hear the wheels turning.

“What is this, a—whatcha call—previous recording? Someone trying to be funny? Trying to play a bad joke?”

“It’s me. Creed.”

“Bullshit.”

“Go ahead,” I said. “Ask me something only I would know.”

“Holy shit, it is you!”

“You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Only you woulda said something like that. Jesus H. The friggin’ attic dweller comes back from the grave.”

Then, as if something just struck him, Sal said, “I want my money back for the—whatcha call—funeral wreath.”

I laughed. “Take it out of my next job.”

“Don’t think I won’t. So who got killed and passed off as you? And where the hell you been, anyway?”

“You know how it works. That’s classifi ed.”

“And you government fuckers wonder why I have—whatcha call—trust issues.”

“So, you got any work for me, or not?”

“I could give you ten jobs today.”

“Give me an easy one to start. I’m at half strength right now.”

“Which means you’re still the best I ever seen.”

“Stop,” I said. “You’re making me blush.”

“You want easy?” he said. “I was gonna do this one myself.”

“What, some girl scout forgot to deliver your cookies?”

“After all these years you’re still a wise guy,” Sal said.

“I didn’t know wise guys called other people wise guys.”

“I could write a book on what you don’t know. You want this candy job or what?”

“Feed me, Seymour.”

“The fuck you talkin’ about?”

“I want the easy hit first. Then we can talk about the others.”

“That’s my boy.”

“So,” I said, “what makes this hit so easy?”

“The fucker wants to die.”

I didn’t know the fucker, but I knew how he felt.

Chapter 49

“Callie, it’s me.”

There was the briefest silence, and then an explosion took place on the other end of the line.

“Oh my God, Oh, my GOD, OH MY GOD!” Callie shrieked.

“I’m back.”

“Oh, Donovan. Thank God!”

We went through all the questions as if checking them off a list, and set a date to have dinner.

“I’m looking forward to meeting Eva,” I said.

She laughed. “There may be some gay girl stuff going on. Think you can handle it?”

“Let me think a minute. Yes.”

“Good. I can’t wait for you to meet her. Did you hear? She’s the lead now.”

“I never doubted for a minute that she would be. But here’s the real question: have you told her what you do?”

“Of course. I’m a decorator, all A-list clients.”

“A job that requires extended travel.”

“Exactly.”

We were silent awhile.

“How are you with explosives?”

“Pretty current. Why, you’ve got a job for me already?”

“I do.”

I went through the details of what I needed from her, and she had a number of questions about that. When at last all her questions were answered, some more silence passed between us.

“You ever think about quitting?” I said.

“Every day. But then I come to my senses. You?”

“Same.”

Callie and I are alike in more ways than not. We both believe that the killing we do for the government is necessary, and we both love the danger rush. At the same time, we both long to be normal someday, with normal lives, surrounded by people who care about us.

Oh, and we both love beautiful women.

“Good to have you back, Donovan. I thought I’d lost you. I can’t wait to see you.”

I closed the phone as Lou came into my office with a folder.

“We’ve played this scene before,” I said.

“With different results,” Lou said.

“So, the new boyfriend is clean?”

“Like an eagle scout. Sorry, Conner.”

I stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. “It’s for the best,” I said. “And Lou?”

He looked at me.

“Stop calling me Conner. I’m sticking with Creed.”

He frowned. “Darwin’s not going to like it.”

“Fuck Darwin.”

“Always an option, I suppose.” Lou’s frown deepened. “What about Tara’s people—aren’t you afraid they’ll come after Kathleen?”

“Why should they? We’re not together anymore.”

“What if Kathleen finds out Donovan Creed is still walking around?”

“There’s no reason for that to happen. If it does, I’m just another guy with the same name. Other than size, as long as I wear phony contacts, there’s no way to recognize me.”

“I have to confess, I hated the name Conner Payne.”

“Keep the ID’s, though, in case I want to use the name on a job.”

“What about Joe Leslie?”

“We’ll keep that one alive as well.”

“I’ll tell Darwin,” he said. He started to leave.

“Lou—wait up a minute.”

He stopped and turned.

I said, “There’s something I want from Darwin. It’s important.”

He cocked his head in an I-can’t-wait-to-hear-this kind of way.

I said, “This face job I got, it’s amazing, yes?”

“It’s a work of art,” he said.

“I want Addie to get one. And I want all the charred skin removed from her body as well.”

Lou said, “No way. Darwin would never authorize that.”

“Tell him I’ll pay every dime.”

“Donovan, look at me. To do what they did for you? That would cost millions.”

“I’ll pay every dime.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s a deal breaker,” I said.

He paused a bit, thinking it through. “You’ll pay up front?”

“Whatever it costs.”

“I’ll set it up.”

“What about Darwin?”

“Better he finds out after we start, than before.”

I grinned at my friend. “Thanks, Lou.”

Chapter 50

I caught him at 38th and Walnut.

Augustus Quinn—pro that he is—picked up the tail immediately, slammed on the brakes, and threw his car into reverse, trying to hit me. I slipped lanes and passed him, then jerked my car into reverse and pulled alongside him. We continued flying backwards down Walnut several blocks, side by side, staring at each other, until it hit him. He mouthed the word “Creed.” I gave him a thumbs up. Then we both had to swerve in opposite directions to let the angry black pickup pass safely between us. I motioned Quinn to follow me, and we continued driving in reverse down Walnut until we hit Rittenhouse Square. We screeched to a stop in front of the hotel and tossed the bewildered valet our keys.

“You ever try their crackling pork shank?” I said, pointing to the sign.

“With firecracker applesauce? They don’t serve that here.”

“Pity. In that case, I’ll have a strip steak.”

“I look like a waiter to you?”

“Not so much,” I said. “Want to join me for a steak?”

“I’d join you for rooster knees!”

“Well, who the hell wouldn’t?”

Smith and Wollensky was still the premier steakhouse in Philly. Like its cousins in South Beach and New York, the restaurant has a bank of windows that offers great people watching. We sipped some bourbon in the main bar and rated the women. It was mostly sevens and eights until we saw a Megan Fox lookalike who had it all going for her: high cheekbones, sultry smile, the impossibly toned abdomen she bared for those of us who appreciate such things. She wore designer jeans with rhinestone-studded back pockets. Every now and then we caught a fleeting glimpse of thong when she set her purse down or picked it up, which by my count happened twice. At one point, while I was distracted by the soulless bartender, Quinn caught a down-blouse.

“Real or fake?” he said.

“I missed the defining moment,” I said, “but you date enough strippers you get a feel for these things, pun intended.”

“So your answer is?”

“Definitely real. Without question, you are looking at a gift from God.”

“I agree. What do you give her?”

“For me it’s an eleven.”

“There are no elevens,” he said.

“Look again.”

He did.

“You’re right. We need to create a new category.”

I said, “Must have been a perfect day in Heaven, what, twenty years ago? This girl comes down the assembly line, God’s in the best possible mood, and, there you go.”

“So for you it’s a religious experience.”

“Some people see God in a potato chip.”

“How do you rank her against Callie?”

“Callie’s a twelve.”

Quinn was about to argue for a higher score, but two Asian girls walked past us wearing cut off jeans that showed half their backsides.

“Look at that ass,” Augustus said.

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“Okay,” I said, “but just long enough to make sure I can identify them in case someone called the cops.”

“You’re a good citizen, Donovan.”

The hostess brought out waiter to us, and we followed him to our seats. Of course, everyone in the bar and restaurant gave Quinn a wide berth. As we walked past him, a drunk guy said to a friend, “Gimme your cell phone, I think I just sighted Bigfoot,” but instead of laughing, his drinking buddy moved away. Quinn seemed not to notice. He was actually chuckling.

“What are you laughing at?” I said.

“I just remembered the name of the movie star you look like.”

“Stop!” I said, “don’t tell me.”

“Fine. But you know who I’m talking about.”

“I feel like an idiot, taking this face out in public.”

“Th e chicks seem to like it,” he said. “You’re getting more fingers pointed at you than William Shatner at a Star Trek convention.”

Although I felt it was more likely the fingers were being pointed at Quinn, I said, “This is my test drive. So far so good, meaning, you’re the only one who’s laughed.”

“I’m not used to you with—what is it, sandy blond hair?”

“Light brown.”

“How often you have to dye that?”

“Regularly.”

“And the eyebrows?”

“Let’s change the subject,” I said. “How’s Alison these days?”

“Ouch. How would I know? I haven’t seen her in years. How’s Kathleen?”

“The same. What happened with Afaya?”

“He never showed up. One morning his “cousin” was at work in Denver, took his usual lunch break, never came back.”

“Someone tip him off ?”

“That’s what Darwin thinks, but it doesn’t matter. The threat went away.”

“How’d you and Alison start dating?”

“Who said we did?”

“Lou Kelly.”

Quinn stared at me a moment. “I guess you could call it dating. It lasted a couple of weeks, is all.”

I nodded, took a sip of my drink. He knew I was waiting for him to tell me how he and Alison got together sexually, when he was supposed to be training her to kill people. He finally did.

“She thought with you dead, maybe I’d give her the high-paying job you promised. I didn’t discourage her from thinking that.”

“You dog.”

“Woof. So anyway, when she realized that wasn’t gonna happen, she bolted.”

“You never heard from her again?”

Quinn laughed. “I know. You’d think, sensitive guy like me, she’d call whenever it rains or when she’s feeling blue, right?”

I smiled at the thought. “What about the guy from the Texas Syndicate?” I said.

“He didn’t follow up on her, far as I know. I think he had enough problems of his own, trying to stay in power.”

We were quiet a minute, and then I chuckled.

“What,” he said.

“She ever do that love song for you while in the throes of passion?”

“Which one—the asthmatic alley cat, or the singing horse?”

“The horse is the one I remember.”

Quinn gave a sudden imitation of her that made all the surrounding tables take notice. I laughed like I hadn’t laughed since the days of Kathleen.

Quinn said, “Alison was really something, she was.”

“So was Kathleen,” I said.

Quinn nodded. “So when do you want me to kill her fiancé?”

Chapter 51

Of course I didn’t want Quinn to kill Kathleen’s fiancé, but I appreciated the gesture. Hell, I’d thought of killing him myself and starting over with Kathleen, but like Callie said about quitting the business, each time I thought about it, I came to my senses.

Quinn and I had our steaks and split an order of truffled mac and cheese. During dinner we drank an outstanding cabernet, the 2004 Oracle, from Miner Family Vineyards.