20
“I told you to back off,” Lieutenant Dupree said while Sarah stood in his office. “Why can’t you listen when I give you an order?”
“Nobody is doing anything. I had to hear from Taoldo’s wife he what happened. She told me he had been murdered,” Sarah replied.
“It looked like suicide to me,” Adams said. He was summoned by the Lieutenant to clear things up. “You’re not saying I am a lousy cop, aren’t you?”
“On the contrary, but Mrs. Taoldo told me her husband has been killed point blank. I find it strange that you didn’t interview her,” Sarah answered.
“Didn’t I make myself clear?” Dupree addressed Sarah while he stirred in a paper coffee cup from Starbucks.
“Yes you told me I am off the Rodrigo Mendez case.”
“What?” Dupree looked bewildered at Sarah.
“Ha, I’ve got you there,” Sarah smiled. “There is nothing you can do to take this case away from me. I have no personal connection with the victim.”
“You’re right, for a moment I thought you were treading into Garnham’s footsteps; he never listens either.”
“One thing I don’t understand is why you went to interview the woman in the first place?”
Adams asked.
“The article in the newspaper made me curious. I’m surprised you didn’t see it” Sarah answered.
“Which newspaper?” Dupree asked. He put his coffee down.
“The USA Today.”
“Ah, no wonder I didn’t read it. I don’t read gossip. I would like to know who spilled the information and I want to know what it says and who the reporter is,” Dupree said. He’d totally forgotten his coffee.
“Why don’t you look it up online?” Adams remarked.
The dealing with Mrs. Taoldo did bring Sarah back into the race, this time she was determined to stay in lane.
*
Things hadn’t gone well for Jose Mendez in fact they had gone from bad to worse. The death of his son Rodrigo was still fresh in his mind. Now his wife was staying with him in LA matters became extra difficult for him. On the one hand, he had missed her and the children. She was a great comfort to him, but he was also confused. Their reunion raised many agrivations between him and his wife.
Jose and Sophia hadn’t been on good terms lately. Sophia complained repeatedly about him living abroad. Back home in his apartment she blamed him for the boy’s death. The woman, who he once loved so much, called him a murderer. Out of respect for her and the children, he didn’t leave her right then and there. He felt highly responsible for them. However in spite of everything, the body of Rodrigo was finally going to be buried.
The coffin weighed heavy on Jose Mendez’ shoulder, his left arm was embracing one of his brothers. Behind them walked two of their younger brothers. They moved silently through the streets.
Right beside Jose walked Sophia, his wife; her eyes were red from crying. Almost a week after their son’s death, the authorities had finally handed the body over to the family. Now they were at last able to bury their child and pay him their last respects. A soft rain fell as the procession moved along. When they approached the church, the cortege came to a halt.
A compassionate crowd was gathered at the God’s House. The crowd moved respectfully as Jose and his brothers reached the steps of the church. Entering the building, the brothers walked to the front and placed their heavy load on the two stands Then the men kneeled and made the sign of the cross in front of the statue of Christ.
Sarah stood at the back hidden within the crowd. She managed to catch Jose’s eyes for a moment. The short glimpse he gave her was enough to tell her he did not want her to come inside the church. Respecting his wishes, Sarah left the church grounds after the rest of the congregation entered the building.
She drove home in silence, glad the Mendez family finally been permitted to say their last goodbyes to their son. Although she had hardly known the young man, she knew Jose was proud of him.
Life in Sao Paulo had been tough for the family; Jose didn’t like to talk about it. Every week he and Rodrigo had sent some of their wages home, knowing his wife and other kids needed it more than them. Often they’d send more than they could afford. Deeply in thought, Sarah didn’t notice the car following her.
With the heavy burden Jose carried upon his shoulders, it was obvious he was going to spend a lot of his time with his family. Sarah remembered how difficult it was to lose a child. It had been ten years ago since she lost her own little girl, Kelly.
*
Anthony couldn’t wait to get the chip implanted. If he’d understood it correctly, he was going to receive a single injection with living organisms. These would multiply themselves so they wouldn’t die out. The only thing he had to do was keep a healthy diet of fruit vegetables and not too much red meat. The doctors in the clinic could monitor his progress thanks to the chip in his head. And, that was the beauty of the whole thing; he would receive a remote control for the chip. They’d showed him one of Oprah’s shows in which a man suffering from Parkinson’s disease could turn himself on and off. The man too had a chip implant.
After the operation he might still hear voices and see visual hallucinations however after a few months when the medicine had fully been registered by his brains they would cease to exist. Somehow the drug was going to destroy the defect part in his in his brain so it could grow a new Amygdala. He wasn’t sure what the precise pronunciation of the word was, but the doctors had told him this part of his brain had caused his Schizophrenia. The thing was sending the wrong messages; it had to be destroyed as quickly as possible.
The room he occupied in the Delphi Clinic didn’t at all look like a hospital room. A spacious bed with a dark blue cover stood against one of the walls. Further there was a comfortable chair, a table with magazines and a TV/DVD set. There was no kettle to make a cup of tea or coffee, neither a mini bar. He had to stay sober for the operation the next day. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy and for that reason Anthony had brought secret supplies. To his annoyance a nurse had checked his belongings and taken away the chocolate and muesli bars. He should have known better, nurses were after all people you couldn’t trust. However this one appeared kind, not like the ones in the institution back in Ireland.
With an empty stomach Anthony removed the blue cover of the bed, folding the duvet cover open he stepped into the bed. As he covered himself he lay there for a moment, but then he suddenly threw the duvet off.
Barely asleep two men with a gurney entered Anthony’s room. With a sleepy head he peeked from under the duvet cover.
“Good morning Mr. Baker,” one of the men said. He wore a light blue cotton suit and white shoes. His colleague was dressed in the same manner.
“Did you get any sleep?” The other man asked without waiting for an answer, he continued. “You must be nervous for the operation. Before you go to the theatre Doctor Phillips will have a chat with you to explain the procedure again. It’s easy to forget things. Don’t hesitate to ask her questions if you might have any.”
“Could you move on to the gurney for us, Mr. Baker?” The first orderly asked.
The gurney felt hard and uncomfortable. “Do I have to lie on this thing?” Anthony asked.
“Sorry, but it is the policy of the clinic. We are responsible for you. We don’t want you to have any accidents.” One of the men said while they wheeled their patient out of the room into a wide corridor. Unlike in any other hospital Anthony had been, there were pictures of horses hanging on the wall. One of them was of the famous Arkle. Half way down the hall a long haired woman in her late thirties came their way.
“Morning Doctor Phillips,” both men greeted her.
“Here is your patient, he is ready to go,” One of them said. They came to a standstill and were directly beside Arkle. Anthony gazed at his beautiful features.
“When we’re in the operation room, I will show you how small the chip is we’re about to implant, Mr. Baker. I hope have 20/20 vision, because I need a microscope to see the thing,” Doctor Phillips said. Her lips curled and her cheeks formed two tiny dimples.
*
Two women gazed around in amazement in one of the terminals of the LAX airport. This was something else compared to Dublin airport, which recently gained a second terminal. They looked for a trolley to put their luggage on; however, there didn’t seem to be any. Both glanced at each other and shrugged their shoulders. Pulling their luggage behind them, the little wheels making squeaking noises, they walked towards the exit.
Outside it rained. Used to the rain and cold in Ireland, the women didn’t even bother to put on their coats.
Meters high palm trees decorated the sidewalks. In Ireland, they had only seen the tiny ones in the south out of the country. Those little trees seemed ridiculous compared to the palm trees here. A row of taxis stood waiting alongside the curbs. When they approached one, they heard the locks click.
“They’re not very friendly here,” May glanced at Anna uncertainly.
Moving along the curb, a young man with short auburn hair stepped out of a battered Ford Sedan. He wore jeans and a black leather jacket. Taking off his sun glasses he squinted at May. His eyes stood friendly.
“You must be May Baker. I am Peter Black. Welcome to California,” Peter stretched his hand to greet her. He rested his eyes on the woman. Her face implied a troubled mind. Knowing her history, Peter felt a deep compassion for the poor woman.
“This is Anna Wild,” May introduced her friend. She glanced up and down Peter’s athletic body.
He opened the passenger door on the pavement side, inviting the women to take a seat in his car.
“Sorry ladies,” Peter addressed the women. “The air-conditioning stopped functioning.” When he inserted the key in the ignition, the vehicle shocked into life. Swiftly he merged into traffic. Both Anna and May rolled their windows down and gazed outside. As they entered the highway into the city, Peter looked into his rear view mirror. Adjusting it, he could see May.
“I presume you would like to go to the hotel first.”
May hesitated before she answered. The change from Ireland had taken hold of her total attention. “Yes, that’ll be fine.”
Anna didn’t even shift; her eyes were fixed on the traffic. “Eight lanes this is madness,” She mumbled to herself.
Approaching the city, the traffic slowed down. An hour later, Peter pulled over at the Cecil hotel. The building, which was located in the middle of downtown’s South Main Street stood 10 stories high.
“I booked a table for us in a restaurant at seven o’clock tonight. I’ll pick you up at 6, see you then.” Peter left after the women unloaded their luggage from the Sedan.
May glanced at Anna and said, “So here we are then.”
The doors of the hotel opened automatically. The lobby appeared small. A large colorful mosaic figure decorated the floor. They moved further into the lobby, their suitcases pulling behind them. A bellboy dressed in a red uniform approached them. Anna couldn’t help but smile at the young man; he looked as though he still had some growing to do. “We need to find out which room we’re in first,” Mary said.
A couple in their sixties sipped from their drinks. The man’s balding head gleamed in the afternoon sun. A camera hung on his oversized belly. He gazed warily through his glasses to the newcomers.
The receptionist wore a plain blue suit and a white blouse. Although she welcomed the new guests in a friendly manner, her clothes gave her a cool appearance. Her bright eyes peered through her gold-rimmed glasses with intrusive curiosity.
Upstairs in their spacious room, May gave the young bellboy a few dollars. When he closed the door behind him, she turned to Anna, “I hope I didn’t give him too much.”
“I have no idea.” Anna walked over to the window, looking down from the ninth floor she gazed at the traffic below. The double glazed windows kept the noise well at bay. “I’m going to bed,” May said. “I am nearly sleepwalking.”
“Here’s another one. Our system is mixed up. We need a good sleep and we’ll be fresh like a chicken in the morning. Oh! Wait Peter has invited us for dinner tonight,” Anna remembered.
“I better let him know we might not come,” May said. With the little amount of energy she’d left she notified Peter Black using her mobile phone.
Early in the evening May was woken up by the hotel phone. With half closed eyes she picked up the receiver on the locker beside her bed.
“Is this Mrs. Baker?” A male voice asked.
“Yes who is calling?” May asked.
“Hi, it’s Peter, I have news. I’ve discovered where your husband is.” This sounded nearly too good to be true.
“How is that possible?” May asked. Anna grunted in a separate bed beside her friend. “What’s going on?” She asked while she leaned on one of her elbows.
“Shush! it’s Peter,” May hissed.
“What does he want?”
May gave her friend an all knowing look, the one if it could kill look.
“Sorry,” May grunted and fell back onto her pillow.
“Hmmm, let me write that down,” May said. Nervously she scanned the room for a pen and a piece of paper. “A pen, I need a pen, quick,” May demanded.
“Oh, are you talking to me?” Anna asked. “I’ve got some in my handbag.”
“Now get it then, Peter is waiting,” May commanded.
Reluctantly Anna stepped out of her cozy bed. “I thought I was doing you a favor by going with you to LA. But obviously you don’t appreciate what I’m doing for you. You know what? You can go on your own to the appointment,” Anna said while she retrieved a biro and notebook out of her handbag.
“Have it your way,” May said when she finished writing down the address and put the receiver back on the cradle. “I don’t need you here. You came here yourself, I didn’t invite you.” She hated it when her friend was behaving like that. Didn’t she understand how anxious she was to find Anthony?
“Can you shut up? I’m trying to sleep,” Anna said. She’d crawled back under the sheet again.
The taxi brought May to the address she’d written down. Afraid to miss the taxi she hadn’t taken a shower and didn’t apply any make up, that could wait. The focus was on Anthony now. She didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get hold of him. The chances were slim she would be so lucky a second time. She knew he was staying on the third floor of the Marino Del Royal on the Washington Boulevard.
She took the stairs, but she immediately regretted this. The walls were full with graffiti of the lowest class. At the third floor she turned right into a corridor after she entered via a door which was partly made of glass and TMF. The TMF was also covered with graffiti. In one of the corners an individual had relieved himself.
She moved along the corridor and soon found the room she was looking for. She knocked on the door, it was opened so she was able to look inside the room. She saw a double bed with beige covers, a make-up table with a large mirror and a plain chair in front of it.
“Hello,” May called waiting on the threshold.
No answer came from the room. May hesitated what to do next. She opened her handbag to check the address. Yes, this is the correct place.
“Hello, is anyone here?” Slowly May moved forward into the room. When she entered the room the door slammed closed behind her. Next she heard the lock turn.
Swiftly she spun around and made an attempt to push the door back open. It didn’t give a butt.
“Hey you, let me out,” May shouted. She beat violently with her fists on the door. “Son of a bitch!”
Then it dawned on her she could ring up room service. She scanned the room for a phone. Before she picked up the receiver she noticed the wires were cut. Searching in her handbag May pulled her mobile phone. Nothing, there was no coverage.
Next she tried the window, but even using all her strength wasn’t enough to open it. Examining the woodwork she noticed there were screws drilled into the corners of the window sill.
I don’t have a screwdriver or a knife at hand. She stood for a moment pondering what else she could use to unscrew the locked window. My keys are all too big. Who has locked me in and most of all who called me? By now she understood it couldn’t have been Mr. Black, or could he”? No, I must not get paranoid like Anthony. She’d heard him talking to himself, saying she was part of a conspiracy out to get him. It would be a real coincidence if Peter Black turned out to be one of Anthony’s hostage takers. It was wrong to compare him with those criminals, because he had come willingly after all.
She walked over to the door and began kicking as hard as she could on the wood again. Nobody seemed to be around to hear her. There was no reply. Deflated and not knowing what else to do May sat down on the bed. She was longing for a cigarette. Suddenly it dawned on her the smoke would set off the smoke alarm. Why didn’t I think of this before?
*
The room was spinning Edgar Ellis made an effort to open his eyes. The skin on his face felt tight. A feeling of nausea overcame him when he tried to get up. It was as though something pushed him down. He did his best to focus, but the room kept turning around. Hearing high-pitched noises from a distance he tried to call out, but no sound came over his lips. In his weakness, he collapsed and slipped into unconsiousness once more.
Images of a fire soon entered his restless mind. He tried to get away from the flames. However, all his attempts to escape the house were in vain. He couldn’t move; the virus had paralyzed his body.
Then something remarkable occurred. Dark figures lifted him from the floor, away from the flames into another room. Unable to assist them, he let them go about their work.
At first, the pain had been excruciating, then it faded away and he appeared to be drifting on what seemed to be some sort of vessel. Even though he couldn’t see what went on, he heard the rumbling of an engine and felt the waves move beneath him. In reality, he had been travelling in the back of a pick-up truck. His rescuers had made the journey as comfortable for him as possible.
Narette dropped the wooden spoon back into the saucepan. She took a few steps into the direction of Ellis’s room; she realized he was still lying in the same position. Should she turn him now or should she wait until he woke up? After a moment of hesitation, she walked towards his bed. She glanced at his white face; he looked so frail. She listened to his breathing with a stethoscope. When she pulled one of his eyelids up, her heart skipped a beat. He was back. Quickly she checked his arms. The blisters were still there, although they were getting better. Twice daily, she put ointment on them. She had removed the bandages from his face on his arrived at her house in the city. With her leading the operations in the Delphi clinic, she hadn’t had a chance to book him in the clinic yet. To her relief there wasn’t any need for Ellis to move there any longer.
Grateful for the miracle, Narette decided to leave him be. From now on, he would turn himself whenever he required.