Ed Gorman - Cold Blue Midnight

'So what's the best axe-head for you?'

She forced herself not to listen anymore.

There was only one thing she knew about Rick Corday. He was clinical. Real clinical. One of her Crim courses had included some profiles of criminally insane people, and Rick here certainly fit the profile.

Especially since his voice kept changing every five minutes or so. He was, from what she could see, at least two different peopleand both of them were insane.

He finished with the axe and then walked over to her.

'I'm going to go get my friend and bring him back here and then the three of us are going to have a good time.'

She just stared up at him. She felt very self-conscious about being nakedand very scared of what he might be suggesting herebut she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him see this.

'Did I mention that you've got a nice little body? You've got a very nice little body. And I'm going to capture it for posterity on my videocam.' He smiled his fruitcake smile. 'That'll be fun, won't it?'

'Oh yeah,' she wanted to say. 'Yeah, that'll be a whole lot of fun.'

Rick left then, clomp clomp clomp up the basement stairs, clomp clomp clomp across the kitchen and out the back door.

Then she was alone, utterly alone, and terrified.

O'Hare was always a pain in the ass and never more so than when flights were delayed because of bad weather. Even though the plows had been out and the runways were clear, flights had piled up from yesterday and many people were still waiting to get flown out of here.

The place looked like a refugee camp as Adam made his way to the public phones. Some people had slept in their seats all night and looked like it, rumpled, glassy-eyed, vaguely dirty. Little kids ran around screaming while sleepy parents snapped at them. College students tried hard to concentrate on Sartre just as housewives tried hard to concentrate on Danielle Steel. The massesin the abstract they weren't a bad idea. It was just when you got up close to them.

When Adam reached the phone, he took his wallet from his topcoat and ran a finger down a list of names and phone numbers. He called the office of Arthur K. Halliwell and when the receptionist asked who was calling, Adam gave a false name that Halliwell alone would recognize.

Halliwell came on. 'Do you know how many days I've been trying to reach you?'

'I went to New York on business. I wish to hell you'd relax.'

'He's going to get us in trouble. He's a loose cannon. I take it you know by now that he killed Eric Brooks?'

'Yes, he told me.'

Halliwell sighed. 'I need to approach Evelyn today. I need the money.'

It was all going to be so simple, Adam thought. Several years ago, just after Adam had gotten to know him, Rick had told him a strange storythat he had once been a young man named Peter Tappley supposedly put to death in the electric chair for killing several young women. But he'd made a deal with the family lawyer to give him his entire part of the Tappley estate if Halliwell could arrange for the execution to be faked. This meant bribing, for a great deal of money, the man in charge of the execution, the attending physician, the County Coroner and the funeral home director in charge of the corpse. Evelyn Tappley knew nothing about any of this, as Peter wanted to escape her power and influence. He'd gotten extensive plastic surgery in readiness to start a new life. He was sentimental about the Chicago area so the two men lived there. The first year or so was fine, Adam showing him how paid assassins went about their work, Peter being a willing and eager student. Then the change started. Adam first noted the symptoms in Rick: the mood swings, the depression, the blinding headaches, even the change in voice. There seemed to be another person inside of Peter struggling to get out. Then the more frightening symptoms began: periods of amnesia, sleepwalking, terrifying hours of dazedness… and then insane fits of jealousy. Where had Adam been? How could he betray Rick this way? Didn't he know that someday he'd be sorry? Adam was unfaithful, true; but not that unfaithful. Adam called Halliwell and introduced himself. Both were afraid that Rick would crack and end up in a hospital and tell his doctors all about how Halliwell had faked Peter's execution and how Adam was a hit man. Peter had become somebody else completely, somebody Adam neither recognized nor controlled. One day, Adam had shown Rick some pictures of Peter Tappley as a boyand newspaper clippings of his executionbut Rick had shown no recognition whatsoever. Then Evelyn called one day and asked Halliwell to arrange a murder for which her former daughter-in-law Jill Coffey would be blamed. Halliwell said yes. He was virtually bankrupt. He needed money desperately and Evelyn was offering half a million. Then Halliwell got a better idea. After Jill was framed, he'd go to Evelyn and tell her that he'd just learned that Peter was alive. Naturally, she'd be desperate to see him. He would say that his source wanted one million dollars for the rest of the information. Evelyn would pay it without question. They would set up a meeting for mother and son, but just before it took place, Adam would kill Peter, for which he would be paid one hundred thousand dollars. Adam would then leave town. By now, both men were seriously worried about Peter. What if he did something really crazy before they got their million from Evelyn?

'I wish we could just kill him now,' Halliwell said, 'but we can't. In order to convince Evelyn that he's alive, we'll have to have him say hello to her.'

That was the only reason they wanted Rick alive now. They'd have him call this woman and say hello to herthey'd force him at gunpoint, if necessary. She'd recognize the voicethere wasn't anything the plastic surgeons could do to alter a voice in any significant wayshe'd recognize the voice and pay Halliwell the million dollars.

'Just hope he doesn't run amuck somewhere and take us all down with him,' Halliwell said.

Adam checked his watch. 'I'll keep a close eye on him,

Arthur. Relax. This'll work out fine. I can control him. I really can.'

'I'm not sure you can these days, Adam. He's different now. Truly psychotic.'

Adam heard several flights being announced. 'I'd better go. He's waiting out there to pick me up.'

'Call me and let me know how things are going.'

'Just relax, Arthur. Relax.'

He hung up and walked out to find Rick.

The final work consists of inserting the plastic to reshape cheeks and chin. It is here that the surgeon's craft becomes his art. It is here that most surgeons reveal themselves to be mediocrities. He is different, of course. From Buenos Aires to Geneva; from Paris to Washington, DC, he is known as indisputably the best. And now, as he finishes his molding with the plastic, looking at the finished product, he can agree with them. He is indeed no mere journeyman; he is an artist of the first rank.

Adam scared him. He hated to admit it but it was true. This incredible power Adam had over him to hurt his feelings, to make him feel less than he really was

'Everything go all right?' Adam asked when they were in the car and on the way home.

'Went fine.'

'No trouble, then?'

'You were expecting trouble, Adam?'

'I was asking a civil question, Rick.'

'No, you weren't. You were implying that I couldn't pull anything off without you.'

Adam, blond Adam, shook his head and looked out the window at the fine autumn day. 'I'm really not up for this crap, Rick. I mean it.' He didn't look at Rick. Continued to stare out the driver's window.

'Meet anybody interesting in New York?' Rick said. He knew he shouldn't have said it but couldn't help himself.