Robin Cook - Blindsight

“Who made you do it?” Angelo asked. “And remember, if you give me any bull now, you’ll be in deep trouble.”

“Terry Manso,” Bruno said. “It was all his idea. I didn’t even know what was going on until after it was all over.”

“Who else beside you, Manso, and DePasquale were involved in all this?” Angelo said.

“Jimmy Lanso,” Bruno said.

“Who else?” Angelo demanded.

“That’s all,” Bruno insisted.

“What did Jimmy do?” Angelo asked.

“He went into the place early to locate the electrical panel,” Bruno said. “He made the lights go out.”

“Who ordered this hit?” Angelo asked.

“I told you,” Bruno said. “It was all Manso’s idea.”

Angelo took another long pull on his cigarette, then tilted his head back as he blew out the smoke. He tried to think if there was anything else that he needed to ask this punk. When he decided there wasn’t, he glanced at Tony and nodded.

“Bruno, I’d like to ask a favor,” Angelo said. “I’d like you to take a message back to Vinnie Dominick. Do you think you could do that for me?”

“No problem,” Bruno said. A bit of his earlier toughness returned to the timbre of his voice.

“The message is-” Angelo began. But he didn’t finish. The sound of Tony’s Bantam made Angelo flinch. When it wasn’t your own gun, it always sounded louder.

Since they hadn’t tied Bruno to the chair, his whole body sagged forward and crumpled to the floor. Angelo stood over him and shook his head. “I think Vinnie will get the message,” he said.

Tony looked at his gun with a mixture of admiration and pleasure, then took out a handkerchief and wiped the soot from the muzzle. “It gets easier every time I do it,” he said to Angelo.

Angelo didn’t respond. Instead, he squatted down next to Bruno’s body and pulled out his wallet. There were several hundred-dollar bills and a few smaller denominations. He handed one of the hundreds to Tony. The rest he pocketed. Then he put the wallet back.

“Give me a hand,” he told Tony. Together they carried Bruno over to the hole and tossed him into the river. Like Frankie, Bruno obligingly floated quickly away, pausing only momentarily against one of the pier’s piles. Angelo brushed off his trousers. Bruno’s body had kicked up some dust from the floor.

“You hungry?” Angelo asked.

“I’m starved,” Tony said.

“Let’s go over to Valentino’s on Steinway Street,” Angelo said. “I’m in the mood for a pizza.”

A few minutes later Angelo backed up the Town Car, then made a three-point turn to exit through the chain-link gate. At the junction of Java and Manhattan Avenue, he made a left, then gunned the car.

“It’s amazing how easy it is to whack somebody,” Tony said. “I remember when I was a kid, I used to think it was a big deal. There was a guy who lived on the next block. We kids had heard that he’d bumped somebody off. We used to sit outside his house just to see him come out. He was our hero.”

“What kind of pizza you want?” Angelo asked.

“Pepperoni,” Tony said. “I remember the first time I whacked somebody I was so excited I got the trots. It even gave me bad dreams. But now it’s just fun.”

“It’s work,” Angelo said. “I wish you’d understand that.”

“Which list we going to work off of after we eat?” Tony asked. “The old one or the new one.”

“The old one,” Angelo said. “I want to show the new one to Cerino just to be sure. No sense making work for ourselves.”

6:45 a.m., Wednesday

Manhattan

From where Laurie was standing she could see her brother heading for the lake. He was walking quickly; Laurie was afraid he might break into a run. She thought he knew about the mud and how dangerously deep it was. Yet he kept going as if he didn’t care.

“Shelly!” Laurie cried. Either he was ignoring her or he couldn’t hear. Laurie yelled again as loud as she could but still he didn’t respond. She started running after him. He was only a step away from the horrid ooze. “Stop!” Laurie yelled. “Don’t go near the water! Stay away!”

But Shelly kept walking. By the time Laurie reached the lakeside, he was already in black mud up to his waist. He had turned back toward shore. “Help me!” he cried.

Laurie came to a stop just at the edge. She reached out for him, but their hands could not touch. Laurie turned and screamed for help, but no one was in sight. Turning back to Shelly, she saw that he had sunk up to his neck. There was pure terror in his eyes. As he sank further, his mouth opened and he screamed.

Shelly’s scream merged into a mechanical ringing that pulled Laurie from her sleep. Still desperate to help Shelly, Laurie’s hand shot out and swept the Westclox from the windowsill. The same movement toppled a half-full glass of water and collided with the book she’d been reading the night before. The clock, the glass of water, and the book all fell to the floor.

Laurie’s sudden movement and the crash of the things on the floor so surprised Tom that he leaped first to the top of the bureau, where he knocked off most of Laurie’s cosmetics, then to the valance over the window. Unable to make the top of the valance, Tom’s claws sank into the upholstered front, and the sudden weight brought the valance down.

With the commotion and the noise Laurie was out of bed before she knew what she was doing. It was a few seconds before the sound of the alarm clock shocked her into full awake. Reaching down for it, she managed to shut it off.

For a moment Laurie stood in the ruins of her room to catch her breath. She’d not had that particular nightmare for years, probably not since college, and its effect was more upsetting than the disarray of her room. Perspiration dotted her forehead, and she could feel her heart beating in her chest.

After she’d sufficiently recovered, she went into the kitchen for the dustpan to clean up the broken glass. Next she picked up the cosmetics from the floor and stacked them on her bureau. The valance was too big a task. She decided to leave that for later in the day.

She found Tom hiding under the sofa in the living room. After coaxing him out, she held him in her lap and stroked him for a few minutes until he started purring.

About ten minutes later, she was about to step into the shower when the doorbell rang. “Now what?” she thought. Clutching a towel, she went to her intercom and asked who was there.

“It’s Thomas,” a voice said.

“Thomas who?” Laurie yelled back.

“Dr. Scheffield’s driver,” the voice said. “I’m here to deliver something at the request of the doctor. He couldn’t come himself because he’s already in surgery.”

“I’ll be right down,” Laurie said.

Laurie quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

“You’re early this morning.” Debra Engler was poised, as usual, at her door.

Laurie was grateful when the elevator arrived.

Thomas tipped his hat when he saw her. He said he hoped he hadn’t woken her. What he had for her was a long white box tied with a thick red ribbon. Laurie thanked him for the package and went back upstairs.

Putting the box on the kitchen table, she untied the red bow, opened the box, and spread the inside tissue paper. Nestled within the paper were several dozen long-stemmed red roses. On top of the flowers was a card that said: Until tonight, Jordan.

Laurie caught her breath. Never having been the recipient of such a flamboyant gesture, she didn’t know quite how to react. She wasn’t even sure if accepting them was appropriate or not. But what could she do? She couldn’t send them back.

Reaching into the box, Laurie lifted one of the blossoms and smelled its springlike sweetness and looked at its deep ruby color. Even though the arrival of the roses confused her and made her feel uncomfortable, she also had to admit that it was romantic and flattering.