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Detective Acerno wasn’t having a great day when Dr. ‘Last Mile’ Walker, a nickname given to the corner by the precinct commander, came knocking on his door.
“Paul, I think there’s something you should see,” the coroner said as he presented the detective with a cell phone inside a plastic bag.
“What’s up, doc?”
“Greeting me like a cartoon character only serves to remind me why I became a coroner and not a general practitioner. None of my patients are assholes,” Dr. Walker said with a slight smirk. He and the detective had been friends since Acerno’s rookie days. Formality had long since been replaced by a mutual respect and admiration for each other’s skills. Truth be told, detective Acerno was probably the only living, breathing person he saw on a regular basis.
“Sorry Milo, I couldn’t help myself. What’s with the phone?”
“It belongs to one of my patients,” Walker said, referring to the young woman lying on the stainless-steel table in the bowels of the building.
“A young woman in her thirties. Late yesterday afternoon, she drove her car through a red light into an intersection and oncoming traffic.”
“Tragic but not all that unusual, doc. Why would I be interested?”
“For a couple of reasons. Reason number one, the crash didn’t kill her. She died as a result of asphyxiation. Her central nervous system came under attack from some unknown substance and her lungs stopped functioning.”
“As fascinating as that might be, I’m sure the local health department or the CDC would be more helpful to you than I would. What’s the other reason?”
“Her cause of death was identical to that of your young computer hacker.”
It took the detective a few seconds to process what the good doctor had just told him.
“You’re absolutely sure about this?”
“Positive. But all I can tell you is that they died in exactly the same way. I can’t tell you precisely what killed them but I’m working on it.”
“What’s the phone got to do with it?” Acerno said as he picked up the plastic bag. “Look at the last text message she received.”
The detective pressed the power button. The screen came to life. After reading the text message, he looked up at the doctor.
“Can I hang on to this?”
“I thought you might say that. Just sign the chain of evidence form,” he said, handing him a piece of paper which the detective signed and handed back to him.
“Thanks, doc. You did good.”
The coroner smiled, then turned and headed back to his dungeon. Detective Acerno picked up the phone and dialed his stakeout team.
“Bring me the writer.”
“Right away, boss.”
Then he yelled out his always open office door into the bullpen.
“Pitak, get in here!”
Detective Pitak knew that tone of voice. He quickly ended his phone conversation and hurried into Acerno’s office.
“Where’s the security camera video from the Mandalay Bay hotel?”
“There’s a flag on the play, boss. I just got off the phone with Mandalay security. The feds got a court order before we could get a copy.”
Acerno slammed his fist on his desk.
“Find someone who knows something! I don’t care how high up you go.” “Way ahead of you, boss,” he glanced down at the notepad in his hand.
“I spoke with a Shelley Stedman. She’s the executive assistant to the president. She told me that her boss received a visit from an FBI agent at 11:45 yesterday morning. When the FBI agent left, her boss called the head of housekeeping into his office. That’s all she knew.”
He could understand the Secret Service being involved. The murderer had taken out one of their own. But why did an FBI agent visit the president of the hotel hours before the murder?
“Stay on it, Gary. Something is going on and I want to know what it is.”
Thirty minutes later, two very uncomfortable looking junior detectives stood in front of Acerno’s desk. The detective looked up from his paperwork.
“Where’s the writer?”
“We don’t exactly know,” answered one of the detectives as he glanced nervously at his partner.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You told me you watched him go into his apartment building.”
“We did, boss. But when we went up to get him, he wasn’t there. His girlfriend even let us search the place.”
Detective Acerno stood up and gave his junior detectives a stare that would have made the angel of death back off in fear.
“Are you trying to tell me that two of the department’s finest couldn’t keep track of a handicapped person of interest? A 65-year-old man on crutches doesn’t just disappear into thin air!”
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IT DIDN'T LOOK AS IF the psychiatric hospital had changed much since the Opacity photos. The cages were still standing as silent testimony to a more barbaric time. I had just started walking around when I felt a powerful hand clamp down on my shoulder blade from behind. Moments later, I was standing in front of someone who appeared to be in charge of whatever I had stumbled into.
“Mr. Sullivan, we found this guy out by the cages. He may be police. He has no identification on him. He claims he lost his wallet somewhere on the grounds.”
“Police? Oh, no, no. The name’s Berlin, Douglas Berlin. You can call me Doug, Mr. Sullivan is it?”
“Well Doug,” Sullivan said with a slight Irish accent, “Do you always wander around abandoned buildings?”
“It’s a hobby I took up about a year ago. Maybe you’ve heard of it, urban exploring? You locate interesting buildings, go inside, and explore.”
“Didn’t you see the no trespassing signs?”
“That’s part of the fun, you know, being where you’re not supposed to be.”
“Isn’t this somewhat of a dangerous hobby for someone on crutches?”
“Not really,” I said, feigning nervousness. “In fact, they can be quite useful at times. It’s like having a walking stick on a hike.”
I could tell that Sullivan wasn’t exactly a believer.
“But, hey,” I continued. “I thought this place was abandoned. I’ll just get out of your hair.”
I turned to leave. A goon who looked like he ate furniture for breakfast, blocked my way. I turned back in time to see someone hand Sullivan a phone. He took a long look at the screen and then looked up at me. He wasn’t smiling.
“Mr. Berlin, you seem to have a proclivity for being in exactly the wrong place at exactly the right time.”
“Yeah well, everyone is good at something.”
“Perhaps you can enlighten me about your discussion with my associate, Mr. Heskett.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
Sullivan tapped the screen and handed me the phone. It was a video of two people sitting at a small table. It was a pretty good video. There was no denying it was Alvin and me. My cover had been blown and the game was over.
“You know, Mr. Sullivan, I would have thought the media liaison for the EBG Ltd. would have nicer offices.”
“These offices are suitable for our needs. Writer, how is it that you were able to figure out where we were and get here so quickly?”
“You left a rather extensive trail of breadcrumbs and I have a lot of frequent flyer miles.”
“I’m in no mood for jokes, writer. What exactly did you and Mr. Heskett talk about?”
“You know how it is when geeks get together. We just talked about boring computer stuff. I honestly can’t remember.”
“Maybe 50,000 volts will help jog your memory.” Sullivan said as he gave a slight nod to the furniture eater, who started to draw the Taser strapped to his side.
“Now hold on, Kong,” I said as I turned to face the furniture eater. “Stay! Good boy.”
I turned back to face Sullivan. “50,000 volts might help me remember our conversation, but I might also forget a cute story about discovering the missing link sitting in a Las Vegas hotel room.”
I needed to buy some time and, from the look on Sullivan’s face, I had also hit a nerve.
“I think you and I should have a little talk, Mr. Berlin.”
“I think we should make it soon. I have a deadline. If I don’t report back to my associate within the next three hours, the worldwide media will have a field day with the missing link story.”
“I have a few things to take care of first, but we’ll talk as soon as you wake up.”
“What do you mean, wake up? I’m not...” My words were interrupted by blunt force trauma to the back of my head and then darkness.