Mark Smith - The Inquisitor

“Doc,” said Harry, “I should probably tell you that Lily’s been institutionalized for fifteen years, so she won’t be agreeing on anything.”

“I see.” Corley noted her collapsed posture as she sat on the sofa. “Clearly you’ve all been through a bad time. Harry, you look pretty banged up. Are you all right?”

“Far from it, Doc. You got any Advil?”

“Yes, I’ll get you some. Can I get anyone else something? Food? Something to drink?”

“Could I have a soda?” asked Ezra.

“I have some Diet Coke. That okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“And you know what?” said Harry. “I’ll have a drink.” Feeling Geiger’s stare, Harry glanced at him. “What? I quit drinking for the job-and the job’s over, man. You got any bourbon, Doc?”

“I think so.”

“No alcohol for him, Martin,” Geiger said.

“Come on, man-I’m not going on a bender. I just want a drink.”

“No.”

Corley was mesmerized by the exchange. Geiger the interacter. And what else? A protector, too. There was something appreciable to witness here.

Corley turned to Geiger, who was leaning against a wall, staring at something very far away from the room. “Geiger…”

Geiger followed him into the kitchen. Corley turned to him as he came in.

“I need to know what’s going on, Geiger. Especially with you.”

“It’s very complicated.”

“All right, but at least give me the short version for now.”

“Martin, there is no short version.”

Corley listened as Geiger told him the story. It came out in brief sentences, heavily edited, with minimal pauses. The boy was being hunted-never mind by whom. Geiger had rescued him-never mind how. The bad guys were still looking for them-never mind why. Geiger’s plan was to get Ezra back to his mother.

“And something happened to me,” Geiger said. “I had a migraine. And now I’m having… visions. Flashbacks.”

“Of what?”

“My father.” Geiger put a hand up. “The rest will have to wait, Martin. I have to go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I won’t be long.”

“You’ve brought me into this, Geiger. I really need more information.”

“Right now, what’s best for you is no more information.”

There it was again: the inflection in his speech, the use of emphasis to underline his meaning. Corley marveled at it.

“Martin, you can’t tell anyone what you don’t know. Down the line, if the police were to get involved with-”

“Let’s talk about the police, Geiger. Why don’t we call them? The boy is safe here.”

“Discussing this with the police would not be good for Harry and me.”

Corley’s cheeks puffed out in frustration. “This is unacceptable.”

“I’m going to go now, Martin. I will try to get in touch with Ezra’s mother, and then I’ll see someone, and then I’ll be back. Then we’ll find a way to meet the boy’s mother and that will end it.”

“You have it all worked out?”

“No. But I’m certain I’m going in the right direction. It’s like the dreams, Martin. It feels just like the dreams.”

Corley hesitated at voicing his next thought but decided it had to be said. “You never get to where you’re going in the dream-and you fall apart at the end.”

Corley watched something happen to Geiger’s face; the muscles shifted ever so slightly. He’d never seen it before. It looked almost like an appreciation of a dark irony.

But Geiger said nothing and then walked back into the living room. Corley followed. Lily and Harry were asleep, heads resting against each other at a tilt.

“I’m going out,” Geiger said.

Ezra hopped out of the chair. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to call your mother.”

“Then I’m coming, too.”

“No. You can’t be out on the street.”

“But I don’t want to stay here alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

Corley watched Ezra take three quick steps to Geiger’s side.

“I want to stay with you,” Ezra said. A wet glaze coated his eyes, and he grabbed Geiger’s hand.

“You’ll be all right here,” said Geiger. “Martin’s a good person. I’ll be back soon.” He glanced over his shoulder at Corley.

“It’s okay, Ezra,” said Corley. “If Geiger says he’ll come back, he’ll come back. You know that, right?”

Ezra’s eyes hadn’t left Geiger’s. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Geiger said.

Ezra looked at Geiger for another moment and then let go of his hand.

Geiger nodded at Corley and went to the door. He left without looking back.

Mulberry Street at three o’clock in the afternoon was a narrow stretch of commerce on the verge of gridlock. Even so, it never stopped moving. Delivery boys made their rounds by van and foot, shoppers walked past with bags of cured meats and pastas, old men sat on stoops chewing on dead cigars. A dense efflux of aromas rode waves of heat and the shifting breezes. More than once, Carmine had told Geiger, “If heaven smells, it smells like Mulberry Street.”

Outside the Mulberry Deli, Geiger fed some change into a pay phone. He had never used one before. He listened to the ring. Once, twice, and then a woman answered.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Matheson?”

“Not for a while. Ms. Wayland. Who is this?” Her voice had a “shoot first, ask questions later” edge.

“Ms. Wayland, my name is Geiger. Try not to be alarmed. This is about your son.” He could hear the sudden intake of breath.

“Oh God, I knew something was wrong when he didn’t answer. What’s happened?”

“Ezra is all right. And he is safe.”

“‘Safe’? What does that mean?”

“Yesterday your son was kidnapped by men trying to find your ex-husband, who is hiding-”

“What?”

“Please, Ms. Wayland. I need to finish as quickly as possible.”

“Where is my son-and who the fuck are you?”

Geiger stared at the handset, which felt unwieldy and strange. “I took Ezra from the kidnappers. He is safe now.”

“Where is he?”

“In a safe place. He-”

“Listen to me, you bastard. If you-”

“Quiet!”

Heads on Mulberry Street turned. Geiger clicked his neck and took a breath. “Ms. Wayland, if this was a threat and I wanted something from you, I would have said so. Take a moment to think about that. I want to get Ezra back to you. That’s the only reason I am calling.”

He heard a sob, and then a sniffle. “Go on,” she said.

“You need to get on a plane to New York. Please don’t try to contact the police. It will only make things more difficult. You will just have to trust that I am telling the truth. It is possible the kidnappers have your cell phone number, so when you arrive in New York do not use your cell phone or they may be able to locate you. Go to a pay phone and call my cell phone. They don’t have my number. When you call, I will tell you where to go.”

“But how-”

“Write down this number and repeat it to me: nine-one-seven, five-five-five, four-seven-seven-eight.”

“Hold on.”

Geiger closed his eyes. There was too much of the world around him. He could feel the weight of every sound, sight, smell, and molecule of air pressing on him.

“Okay,” Ezra’s mother said. “I wrote it down.”

“Repeat it to me.”

“Nine-one-seven, five-five-five, four-seven-seven-eight.”

“I know this is difficult, but do not tell anyone about this call. Do not share any of this information with anyone. Make up an excuse to leave, and leave.”

“All right.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“Wait! Will you…” She paused and seemed to gather herself. “Will you please tell Ezra I love him?”