Mark Smith - The Inquisitor

Geiger turned to him now. “Martin,” he said.

Corley crouched down before the chair. “Yes?”

“We can’t stay here. We need to go someplace else.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know how it will play out when Ezra’s mother shows up.”

“What do you mean?” Ezra asked.

“I mean your mother could be upset. She might want to speak to the police.”

“But you saved me.”

Geiger smiled wanly at Ezra and then looked again at Corley. “Martin, we need to go someplace where there aren’t doormen, neighbors down the hall, security cameras in the elevators, witnesses everywhere. Your house in Cold Spring-she could meet us there.”

“Well, I suppose so,” said Corley, masking a sigh. It probably was the right move, but the prospect of it pained him. The house was a haven for memories of a happier time in his life.

“Do you have a car, Martin?”

“Yes. We could be there in an hour and a half.”

“Not ‘we,’ Martin. Harry, do you think you can drive?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Harry. “It’s my other leg that’s pretty banged up.”

Corley stood up. “Hold on a second, Geiger. What are you-”

“You’re not coming, Martin.” Geiger looked up at him. “That way we can still keep you out of this.”

“Keep me ‘out of this’? I think it’s a little late for that.” Corley studied Geiger for a moment and then gestured for him to get up. “We need to talk, Geiger. Come into the office-just for a minute.”

Corley walked into the kitchen and continued on into his office through a door in the kitchen’s back wall.

Geiger gave Ezra and Harry a look, and then pushed himself up out of the chair. He rose by increments, dozens of muscles realigning to accommodate his damage, his mind pushing the corporal into the background. Gathering his strength, he walked through the kitchen and into the familiar office. He wanted to focus all his energy on completing what he had started, whatever form that might take.

Corley closed the door softly and turned to him. “Geiger-”

Geiger held up a hand. “Martin, the best thing is for you to stay here. You have no place in what happens once we leave.”

“No? I’m sorry to have to play the shrink, but let’s look at what’s occurred here, at what you did. You came to me. ”

“It was necessary, Martin. But you’re not going anywhere now. And I don’t have time for this.”

It suddenly struck Corley that Geiger might not set foot in this room again, that they were taking part in some sort of finale. Since his divorce, the only true commitment Corley had made had been to Geiger. Now something had happened to Geiger, quite possibly the event that Corley had long been waiting for, the catalyst that would finally reveal the source of all the cruelty and the damage. But if Geiger left and never returned, Corley would never know what Geiger had finally understood.

“Martin,” Geiger said, “I need you to give me the keys and the directions.”

Corley tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “Harry told me everything, Geiger-about what you do, about information retrieval. But even if every person you dealt with was guilty or corrupt, even if they were all serial killers or Hitlers or Bernie Madoffs-”

“I’m getting out of the business, Martin.”

“Jesus, Geiger, it’s not that simple, and you know it. We need to talk about this.”

“But not now, Martin. Not until this is over.”

“Then this is how it has to be,” Corley said. “We all go to Cold Spring.”

Geiger shook his head. “No, you’re not coming.”

Corley gave a soft chuckle. “What are you going to do, Geiger-tie me to a chair?”

“That won’t be necessary, Martin. Just do as I say.”

Corley stared at Geiger and saw another man gazing out from behind the hard slate eyes-the Geiger he’d known nothing about before Harry told him of Geiger’s extraordinary, terrible skills. And as he looked into the eyes of this man who always persuaded people to give him what he wanted, Corley’s breath snagged on something inside him. He had to straighten his spine to jar it loose.

“I feel like I haven’t done enough, Geiger. I…”

Corley trailed off into silent thought. All the walls we build… how the mind makes its own bricks and mortar to save itself. All the things we carry within ourselves… how they are far heavier than any burden we might put upon our backs.

“Martin,” Geiger said. “Do you trust me?”

Corley remembered Geiger asking the same question just yesterday. Then it had seemed like another one of his inscrutable offerings, but this time Corley understood that it sought to measure, and test, and possibly even define what they were to each other.

“Yes,” Corley replied.

Geiger slowly nodded, his eyes softening a little. “Good-bye, Martin.”

Mitch’s surveillance gaze was on full power, toggling back and forth from the building’s entrance on Central Park West to the side door around the corner on Eighty-eighth Street. While he waited for Geiger to make his next move, Mitch listened to a show on talk radio that always got his juices flowing.

“And so here we go again,” the host said. “Have you seen these photos of the supposed ‘torture chamber’ in Cairo? It looks like a dirty basement to me, but the so-called enlightened liberals-otherwise known as morons-are at it again, whining about human rights and due process for terrorists. And on this day of days, July Fourth, let me ask you something: do you think they have loved ones fighting to protect their freedom in Iraq and Afghanistan? Well, forgive me if I answer my own question. No! They don’t! And that’s why they can’t understand what democracy really means-because to understand that you have to sacrifice something meaningful, maybe even lose something precious and dear-and I don’t mean having the waiter tell you they’re out of your favorite sushi!”

Mitch pounded the steering wheel. “Right on, dude! That’s the Independence Day spirit talking!”

Mitch’s attention turned to a garbage truck that was pulling up alongside a line of parked cars on Eighty-eighth Street. The truck’s street-side door opened and a man in a DSNY jumpsuit hopped down. He walked to the heap of black plastic bags at the curb, but he took his time about it. Even with the sun low on the horizon, it was still hot.

Mitch took a moment to watch the guy as he started grabbing bags and heaving them into the mouth of the truck.

“Poor sonofabitch. Gotta be a hundred inside that suit.”

In the building’s garage, Corley stood a couple of feet away as Harry turned the ignition of the old Chevy Suburban. The engine hacked a few times before catching and achieving a rumbling idle. Ezra, violin case on his lap, sat in the second row; Lily sat next to him, her head on the boy’s shoulder. Geiger sat utterly still in the last row, eyes shut, hands clasped in his lap.

Corley came closer and spoke to Harry through the open window. “It hesitates when you give it a lot of gas, so be careful about passing somebody on the highway.”

“Gotcha,” said Harry.

“And the radio and air-conditioning don’t work.”

“Not a problem.”

Corley poked his head inside. “Everybody all right?”

“I’m good,” said Ezra.

“Geiger?”

There was no answer.

“I think maybe he’s asleep,” said Ezra.

Corley sighed and straightened up. He had never felt so old, or so useless.

“Take care, Harry.”

“Thanks, Doc-for everything.”

“And bring him back safe.”

“That’s the plan.” Harry turned and smiled up at Corley.“You okay, Doc?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”