Gone Tomorrow

EIGHTY-FOUR

I WOKE UP IN A HOSPITAL BED. I WAS WEARING A PAPER GOWN. The clock in my head told me it was four in the afternoon. Ten hours. The taste in my mouth told me most of them had been chemically assisted. I had a clip on my finger. It had a wire. The wire must have been co

The doctor fussed around for a minute, checking charts and staring at monitors. Then she picked up my wrist and checked my pulse, which seemed a little superfluous with all the high technology at her disposal. Then in answer to questions I hadn’t asked, she told me I was in Bellevue Hospital and that my condition was very satisfactory. Her ER people had cleaned the wound and sutured it and filled me full of antibiotics and tetanus injections and given me three units of blood. She told me to avoid heavy lifting for a month. Then she left. The nurse went with her.

I looked at Theresa Lee and asked, ‘What happened to me?’

‘You don’t remember?’

‘Of course I remember. But what’s the official version?’

‘You were found on the street in the east Village. Unexplained knife wound. Happens all the time. They ran a tox screen and found traces of barbiturate. They put you down as a dope deal gone bad.’

‘Did they tell the cops?’

‘I am the cops.’

‘How did I get to the east Village?’

‘You didn’t. We brought you straight here.’

‘We?’

‘Me and Mr Springfield.’

‘How did you find me?’

‘We triangulated the cell phone. Which led us to the general area. The exact address was Mr Springfield’s idea.’

Springfield said, ‘A certain mujahideen leader told us all about doubling back to abandoned hideouts twenty-five years ago.’

I asked, ‘Is there going to be any comeback?’

John Sansom said, ‘No.’

Simple as that.

I said, ‘Are you sure? There are nine corpses in that house.’

‘The DoD guys are there right now. They’ll issue a loud no comment. With a knowing smirk. Designed to make everyone give them the credit.’

‘Suppose the wind changes direction? That happens from time to time. As you know.’

‘As a crime scene, it’s a mess.’

‘I left blood there.’

‘There’s a lot of blood there. It’s an old building. If anyone runs tests they’ll come up with rat DNA, mostly.’

‘There’s blood on my clothes.

Theresa Lee said, ‘The hospital burned your clothes.’

‘Why?’

‘Biohazard.’

‘They were brand new.’

‘They were soaked with blood. No one takes a risk with blood any more.’

‘Right-hand fingerprints,’ I said. ‘Inside the window handles and on the trapdoor.’

‘Old building,’ Sansom said. ‘It will be torn down and redeveloped before the wind changes.’

‘Shell cases,’ I said.

Springfield said, ‘Standard DoD issue. I’m sure they’re delighted. They’ll probably leak one to the media.’

‘Are they still looking for me?’

‘They can’t. It would confuse the narrative.’

‘Turf wars,’ I said.

‘Which they just won, apparently.’

I nodded.

Sansom asked, ‘Where is the memory stick?’

I looked at Jacob Mark. ‘You OK?’

He said, ‘Not really.’

I said, ‘You’re going to have to hear some stuff.’

He said, ‘OK.’

I hauled myself into a sitting position. Didn’t hurt at all. I guessed I was full of painkiller. I pulled my knees up and tented the sheet and moved the hem of my paper gown and took a peek at the cut. Couldn’t see it. I was wrapped with bandages from my hips to my rib cage.

Sansom said, ‘You told us you could get us within fifteen feet.’

I shook my head. ‘Not any more. Time has moved on. We’re going to have to do it by dead reckoning.’

‘Great. You were bullshitting all along. You don’t know where it is.’

‘We know the general shape of it,’ I said. ‘They pla

‘How does that help us?’

‘Because at midnight she threw the memory stick out her car window.’

‘How can you possibly know that?’

‘Because when she arrived she didn’t have a cell phone with her.’

Sansom glanced at Lee. Lee nodded. Said, ‘Keys and a wallet. That was all. Not in her car, either. The FBI inventoried the contents.’

Sansom said, ‘Not everyone uses a cell phone.’

‘True,’ I said. ‘And I’m that guy. The only guy in the world without a cell phone. Certainly a person like Susan would have had one.’

Jacob Mark said, ‘She had one.’

Sansom said, ‘So?’

‘The Hoths set a deadline. Almost certainly midnight. Susan didn’t show, the Hoths went to work. They made a threat, and they carried it out. And they proved it. They phoned through a cell phone picture. Maybe a live video clip. Peter on the slab, that long first cut. Susan’s life changed, effectively, on the stroke of midnight. She was helpless in a traffic jam. The phone in her hand was suddenly appalling and repugnant. She threw it out the window. Followed it with the memory stick, which was the symbol of all her troubles. They’re both still there, in the trash on the side of I-95. No other explanation.’

Nobody spoke.

I said, ‘The median, probably. Subconsciously Susan would have put herself in the overtaking lane, because she was in a hurry. We could have triangulated the cell phone, but I think it’s too late now. The battery will be dead.’

Silence in the room. A whole minute. Just the hum and beep of medical equipment.

Sansom said, ‘That’s insane. The Hoths must have known they were losing control of the stick as soon as they phoned the picture through. They were giving up their leverage. Susan could have driven straight to the police.’

‘Two answers,’ I said. ‘The Hoths were insane, in a way. They were fundamentalists. They could act the part in public, but underneath it was all black and white for them. No nuance. A threat was a threat. Midnight was midnight. But anyway, their risk was minimal. They had a guy tailing Susan all the way. He could have stopped her going off message.’

‘Who?’

‘The twentieth guy. I don’t think going to Washington was a mistake. It wasn’t a missed co

More silence. Then Sansom asked, ‘So where was Susan at midnight?’

I said, ‘You figure it out. Time, distance, average speed. Get a map and a ruler and paper and pencil.’

Jacob Mark was from Jersey. He started talking about Troopers he knew. About how the Troopers could help. They patrolled I-95 night and day. They knew it like the backs of their hands. They had traffic cameras. Their recorded pictures could calibrate the paper calculations. The highway department would cooperate. Everyone got into a big conversation. They paid me no more attention. I lay back on my pillow and they all started edging out of the room. Last out was Springfield. He paused in the doorway and looked back and asked, ‘How do you feel about Lila Hoth?’