an insanity plea?
Or perhaps the relief of confession had prompted Knee High’s smile when the mug shot camera had captured his image. Or maybe even then Knee High had understood that not everything was lost. Like so many others before him, he could use the system to his advantage.
Justice full well knew how firmly fate was on his side, how Knee High was being delivered to him. Fate would side with the avenging angel of justice, the divinity of death. Because of Knee High, the Justice Killer had slain an innocent man. That was the very antithesis of what Justice was trying to do. It could undermine his mission.
“Oh, he’s already quite mad.”
What Knee High had done was an abomination. Justice could not let the matter stand, and he would not. That wasn’t madness; it was making a madness right.
The police would strive to protect Knee High, but even with the tightest security there would be lapses, vulnerable moments. Time would pass without incident, and even Knee High might consider himself in danger only from the usual justice delayed.
Delayed forever.
Not this time, little man. Justice hastened, Justice served, Justice pleasured.
Sooner or later, by breath, blade, or bullet, you belong, to me.
59
“This isn’t the usual thing,” Beam said, when Knee High approached him for their meeting in Grand Central Station.
The little man had phoned Beam personally and requested that they speak, and had chosen the place. The shuffling of hundreds of soles and heels was a constant echoing whisper, as if there were secrets in the stone and marble vastness.
“Knee High be short,” Knee High said. He moved over toward a wall where they’d be more or less separated from the throngs of train passengers and tourists. “This the most public place in New York, lotsa people all the time. Hard for anyone to follow Knee High, ’cause he get in amongst the masses and everybody be taller, shield him from prying eyes.”
“That makes sense,” Beam said. “But what I meant is, it’s unusual that a murder suspect who’s out of jail would phone a police detective so they can meet someplace and he can complain about being free.”
Knee High looked astounded. “Free? You call this free? Knee High got cops comin’ out his ass, mornin’ till night.”
“All night, too,” Beam said. “That’s because they’ve been assigned to protect you.”
“Protect Knee High, shit. What they’re hanging around for is a shot at the Justice Killer. You think Knee High don’t know how you guys set up Knee High? Knee High ain’t no fool. Weren’t born yesterday, nor at night, neither.”
Beam wished Knee High weren’t one of those people who habitually referred to themselves in the third person. It gave the impression there might be another Knee High here.
“You want that Justice Killer mother come after Knee High,” said Knee High. “You tell Knee High that ain’t the truth.”
Beam felt no pity. “Whatever position you’re in, you put yourself there,” he said.
“Po-sition? Knee High’s po-sition is bent over, tha’s what.”
“Why did you want to talk to me about it?”
“Knee High wanna be arrested. Then he want you to tell the media in this town, so the Justice mother know and won’t be tryin’ to shoot Knee High.”
“I can’t arrest you,” Beam said. “The law doesn’t work that way. You could sue me.”
“Knee High don’t sue people. Way the law works, it’s s’pose to protect the citizens. Knee High a citizen.”
“Edie Piaf was a citizen until you killed her.”
“So why don’t you arrest Knee High?” He held his hands out, wrists together, as if waiting to be cuffed. “C’mon, do your job an’ put Knee High back where that Justice mother can’t get to him.”
“I can’t do that unless there’s a warrant out for you. You’ll need to speak to a judge.”
“Yeah. Knee High do that next time we be lunchin’ at Four Seasons. Uh-huh. You see that?”
“See what?”
“That big guy in camouflage fatigues, carryin’ an automatic rifle.”
Beam peered across the teeming marble vastness to where Knee High was pointing. “He’s in the military,” Beam said, “part of Homeland Security. They’re stationed throughout Grand Central.”
“How you know what he is? What Knee High see’s a man with a machine gun, might wanna shoot Knee High dead. You know tha’s what he ain’t? Anybody can go rent hisself a soldier suit, get hold of a gun, go walkin’ ’round Grand Central, blast the damn eyeballs outta Knee High ’fore you can stop him.”
Beam knew Knee High had a point, but he wasn’t about to concede it. “I think Knee High’s got a case of the nerves.”
Knee High extended a stubby little leg and kicked the marble wall. Had to hurt his toes. “Nerves? Those cops you say s’pose to be protectin’ Knee High-you know what their code name be for Knee High?”
“No.”
“They call Knee High ‘the cheese,’ what they say to each other. Damn cop code.”
“That wasn’t my idea,” Beam said, thinking da Vinci must have mentioned the cheese-in-rattrap analogy when assigning NYPD personnel to their tasks.
“Whoever’s idea it be, Knee High don’t like it even a little. What he wants is for you to use your considerable in-fluence and get Knee High back safe behind walls.”
“Well, I guess that makes a certain kind of sense.”
Knee High gave Beam a suspicious look. The cheese, Beam thought, wasn’t very smart.
“And you’d like the media informed, so the Justice Killer will know you won’t be available for…justice,” Beam said.
“That be good. Knee High don’t like bein’ on that Justice mother’s mind.”
“Okay. I think I can get it done.”
Knee High backed up a step. “Say what?”
“I’ll see to it you get your wish: jail, and an informed news media.” Though not necessarily in that order.
“Minute ago you be sayin’ it was impossible.”
Beam shrugged. “Things change.”
Knee High was obviously amazed. What he’d considered a futile, desperate effort was about to bear fruit. “You shittin’ Knee High?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Knee High be safe then.” His relief was obvious.
“Knee High be safe then,” Beam confirmed.
But not until then.
Nell awoke to Terry kissing her bare breasts. She smiled and pulled him to her, cradling his head with both arms, and felt his tongue explore her right nipple.
They were in Nell’s bedroom, after late-night drinks, then a midnight tumble in her bed.
It was certainly bright in the bedroom. She noticed the clock-almost eight thirty-and was alarmed for a moment about being late for work. Then she relaxed, remembering the team had agreed to sleep in this morning after working late last night. Except for Beam, who had an early meeting at Grand Central with Knee High.
This might work out well.
“I happen to have some spare time this morning,” she told Terry.
He answered unintelligibly, then kissed her left nipple, the hollow between her breasts, her stomach, lower.
And raised his head, then sat up.
