Black Notice - Cornwell Patricia (читать книги онлайн без TXT) 📗

"What if she never walks again…? What if she's finished in law enforcement because of me?"

"She won't be jumping out of helicopters anytime soon," I said. "But she's going to be fine."

"What if I permanently damaged her face with my fucking fist?"

"Lucy, listen to me," I said. "You saved her life. If you killed two people to do that, then so be it. You had no choice. It's not that you wanted to:' "The hell I didn't;' she said. "I wish I'd killed all of them."

"You don't mean that:' "Maybe I'll just be a mercenary soldier," she bitterly said. "Got any murderers, rapists, carjackers, pedophiles, drug dealers you need to get rid of? Just call one-eighthundred-L-U-C-Y"

"You can't bring Benton back through killing."

Still, it was as if she didn't hear me.

"He wouldn't want you to feel this way," I said.

The telephone rang.

"He didn't abandon you, Lucy. Don't be angry with him because he died."

The phone rang a third time, and she couldn't restrain herself. She grabbed it, unable to hide the hope and fear in her eyes. I couldn't bring myself to tell her what Dr. Worth had told me. Now was not the time.

"Sure, hold on," she said, and disappointment and more hurt touched her face as she handed me the phone.

"Yes," I reluctantly answered.

"Is this Dr. Kay Scarpetta?" an unfamiliar male voice asked.

"Who is this?"

"It's important I verify who you are." The accent was American.

"If you're another reporter..:'

"I'm going to give you a phone number."

"I'm going to give you a promise," I said. "Tell me who you are, or I'm hanging up."

"Let me give you this number," and he began reciting it before I could refuse.

I recognized the country code for France.

"It's three o'clock in the morning in France," I said, as if he didn't know.

"It doesn't matter what time it is. We have been getting information from you and running it through our computer system."

"Not from me."

"No, not in the sense that you typed it into the computer, Dr. Scarpetta"

His voice was baritone and smooth, like fine polished wood.

"I'm at the secretariat in Lyon," he informed me. "Call the number I gave you and at least get our after-hours voice mail."

"How much sense does that…?"

"Please."

I hung up and tried, and a recording of a woman with a heavy French accent said "Bonjour, hello," and gave the office hours in both languages. I entered the extension he had given me, and the man's voice came back over the line.

"Bonjour, hello? And that's supposed to identify who you are?" I said. "You could be a restaurant for all I know."

"Please fax me a sheet of your letterhead. When I see that I'll fill you in."

He gave me the number. I put him on hold and went back to my study. I faxed a sheet of my stationery to him while Lucy remained in front of the fire, elbow on her knee, chin in her hand, listless.

"My name's Jay Talley, the ATF liaison at Interpol," he said when I got back with him. "We need you to come here right away. You and Captain Marino."

"I don't understand," I said. "You should have my reports. I have nothing more to add to them at this time."

"We wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important."

"Marino doesn't have a passport," I said.

"He went to the Bahamas three years ago."

I had forgotten that Marino had taken one of his many bad choices in women on a three-day cruise. Their relationship didn't last much longer than that.

"I don't care how important this is;" I said. "There's no way I'm getting on a plane and flying to France when I don't know what…"

"Hold on a second," he cut in, politely but with authority. "Senator Lord? Sir, are you there?"

"I'm here."

"Frank?" I said in amazement. "Where are you? Are you in France?"

I wondered how long he had been conferenced in and listening.

"Now listen, Kay. This is important," Senator Lord told me in a voice that reminded me of who he was. "Go and go right away. We need your help."

"We?"

Then Talley spoke. "You and Marino need to be at the Millionaire private terminal at four-thirty. That's A.M. your time. Less than six hours from now."

"I can't leave right now…" I started to say as Lucy filled my doorway.

"Don't be late. Your New York connection leaves at eight-thirty," he told me.

I thought Senator Lord had hung up, but suddenly his voice was there.

"Fhank you, Agent Talley," he said. "I'll talk to her now."

I could hear Talley get off the line.

"I want to know how you're doing, Kay," my friend the senator said.

"I've got no idea."

"I care;" he said. "I won't let anything happen to you. Just trust me. Now tell me how you're feeling."

"Other than being summoned to France and about to be fired and…" I started to add what had happened to Lucy, but she was standing right there.

"Everything's going to be fine," Senator Lord said.

"Whatever everything is;" I replied"Trust me."

I always had.

"You're going to be asked to do things that you're going to resist. Things that will scare you."

"I don't scare easily, Frank," I said.

31

Marino picked me up at quarter of four. It was a heartless hour of the morning that reminded me of sleepless rotations in hospitals, of early days in my career when I was the one who got the calls for cases nobody else wanted.

"Now you know what it feels like to be on midnight shift," Marino commented as we cut through icy roads.

"I know all about it anyway," I replied.

"Yeah, but the difference is, you don't have to. You could send someone else to scenes and stay home. You're the chief."

"I'm always leaving Lucy when she needs me, Marino."

"I'm telling you, Doc, she understands. She's probably gonna be heading up to D.C. anyway to deal with all this review board shit."

I hadn't told him about Dorothy's visit. It would have served no purpose other than to set him off.

"You're on the faculty at MCV I mean, you're a real doctor."

"Thank you."

"Can't you just go talk to the administrator or something?" he said, punching in the cigarette lighter. "Couldn't you pull some strings so Lucy could go in there?"

"As long as Jo isn't capable of making decisions, her family has complete control over who visits and who doesn't."

"Fucking religious wackos. Bible-banging Hitlers."

"There was a time when you were pretty narrowminded, too, Marino," I reminded him. "Seems to me you used to talk about queers and fags. I don't even want to repeat some of the words I've heard you use."

"Yeah. Well, I never meant any of it."

At the Millionaire jet center the temperature was in the low twenties and hard, icy wind grabbed and shoved me as I collected luggage out of the back of the truck. We were met by two pilots who didn't say much as they opened a gate to lead us across the tarmac, where a Uarjet was hooked up to a power cart. A thick manila envelope with my name on it was in one of the seats, and when we took off into the clear, cold night, I turned off cabin lights and slept until we landed in Teterboro, New Jersey.

A dark blue Explorer glided our way as we climbed down the metal steps. It was snowing small flakes that stung my face.

"Cop." Marino gave the nod as the Explorer stopped close to the plane.

"How do you know?"

"I always know," he said.

The driver was in jeans and a leather coat and looked as if he'd seen life from every angle and was happy to pick us up. He packed our baggage in the trunk. Marino climbed in front and off they. sailed into one comment and story after another because the driver was NYPD and Marino used to be. I floated in and out of their conversation as I dozed.

"… Adams in the detective division, he called around eleven. i guess Interpol got him first. I didn't know he had anything to do with them."