she would have leverage in the divorce proceedings.
Headlights at the far end of the block flashed on and off, and Cardoni got out of his car. Moments later Lloyd Krause pulled under the off-ramp. Lloyd was six-two and a fat 250 pounds. His long, dirty hair reached the shoulders of his black leather jacket, and there were grease stains on his worn jeans. Cardoni could smell him as soon as he climbed out of his car.
Hey, man, got your page, Krause said.
I appreciate the speed.
You're a valued customer, Doc. So, what can I do you for?
I'll take an eight ball, Lloyd.
My pleasure, Krause answered. He walked to his trunk, popped the lid and rummaged around. When he stood up he was holding a Ziploc bag filled with two and a half grams of white powder, which Cardoni pocketed.
Two fifty, my man, and I'll be on my way.
I came straight from the hospital, so I don't have the cash with me. I'll get it to you tomorrow.
The dealer's easy smile vanished.
Then you'll get the snow tomorrow, he said.
Cardoni had expected this. Where do you want me to meet you? he asked, making no move to return the cocaine. Krause held out his hand, palm up.
The Baggie, he demanded.
Look, Lloyd, Cardoni answered casually, we've been friends for almost a year. Why make this hard?
You know the rules, Doc. No dough, no snow.
I' m going to pay you tomorrow, but I' m using this cocaine tonight. Let's not damage a good relationship.
Lloyd's hand plunged into his pocket. When it came out, he was holding a switchblade.
That's a scary knife, Cardoni said without a trace of fear.
The coke, and no more fucking around.
Cardoni sighed. I' m certain you're experienced with that knife.
That is fucking correct.
But you might want to ask yourself one question before you try to use it.
This isn't Jeopardy. Give me the coke.
Think for a moment, Lloyd. You're bigger than me and you're younger than me and you have a knife, but I don't look worried, do I?
Doubt flickered in the dealer's eyes, and he took a quick look around.
No, no, Lloyd, that's not it. We're all alone, just the two of us. I wanted it that way because I thought you might act like this.
Look, I don't want to hurt you. Just give me the dope.
You're not going to hurt me, and I' m not returning the eight ball. I know that for a fact. You better figure out why, quickly, before something bad happens.
What the fuck are you talking about?
It's a secret, Lloyd. Something I know that you don' t. Something I know about what happened the last time someone pulled a knife on me.
Cardoni noticed that the dealer had not moved closer, and he noted a tremor in Krause's hand.
There's a lot about me that you don't know, Lloyd.
He looked directly into his connection's eyes.
Have you ever killed a man? Have you? With your bare hands?
Krause took a step back.
Fear the unknown, Lloyd. What you don't know can kill you.
Are you threatening me? Krause asked with false bravado.
Cardoni shook his head slowly.
You don't get it, do you? We're all alone here. If something happens, no one can help you.
Cardoni straightened to his full height, moving sideways to give the dealer a smaller target.
I honor my debts, and I will pay you tomorrow.
The dealer hesitated. Cardoni's cold eyes bored into him. Krause licked his lips. The doctor got in his car, and Krause made no move to stop him.
It's three hundred tomorrow, Lloyd said, his voice shaky.
Of course, for the inconvenience.
You better fucking bring it.
No problem, Lloyd. Cardoni started the car. You have a good evening.
Cardoni drove off, waving casually, the way he might after finishing a friendly round of golf.
Chapter 6
Mary Sandowski's eyes opened. Wherever she was, it was pitch black and a blanket of warm, muggy air pressed down on her. Mary wondered if you could feel the touch of air in a dream but was too tired to figure out the answer, so she closed her eyes and dozed off.
Time passed. Her eyes opened again, and Mary willed herself out of the fog. She tried to sit up. Restraints cut into her forehead, ankles and wrists and anchored her in place. She panicked, she struggled, but she soon gave up. Lying in the dark, in the silence, she could hear her heart tap-tap-tapping.
Where am I? she asked out loud. Her voice echoed in the darkness. Mary took deep breaths until she was calm enough to take stock. She knew that she was naked because she could feel the air on her body. There was a sheet under her, and under the sheet was a firm padded surface. She might be on a gurney or an examining table like the ones at the hospital. A hospital! She must be in a hospital. That had to be it.
Hello! Is anybody here? Mary shouted. A nurse would hear her. Someone would come in and tell her why she was in the hospital ... if she was in a hospital. It dawned on Mary that the air smelled slightly foul. Missing was the antiseptic odor she associated with St. Francis.
A door opened. She heard the click of a switch, and a flash of light blinded her. Mary closed her eyes in self- defense. The door closed.
I see the patient is awake, a friendly voice said. It sounded vaguely familiar. Mary opened her eyes slowly, squinting into the light of the bare bulb that dangled directly overhead.
I hope you're rested. We have a lot to do.
Where am I? Mary asked.
There was no answer. Mary heard the sound of shoes moving across the floor. She strained to see the person who was standing at the foot of the table.
What's wrong with me? Why am I here?
A shape moved between Mary and the lightbulb. She saw a section of a green hospital gown that surgeons wore when they operated. Mary's heart lurched. A needle pricked a vein in her forearm.
What are you doing? Mary asked anxiously.
Just giving you a little something that will heighten your sensitivity to pain.
What? Mary asked, not certain she had understood correctly.
Suddenly Mary's throat constricted. She became aware of a warm feeling. Every nerve in her body began to tingle. She heaved for breath and began to sweat. Her pores exuded the smell of fear. Suddenly the sheet beneath her was damp and rough to the touch, and the air that caressed her naked body felt like sandpaper.
Without a word, a hand slid across her left breast. It felt unbearably cold, like dry ice.
Please, she begged, tell me what's happening.
A thumb caressed her nipple, and she felt fear so intense that it raised her body a fraction of an inch from the table.
Good, the voice remarked. Very good.
The hand slid away. There was complete quiet. Mary bit her lip and tried to stop shaking.
Talk to me, please, she pleaded. Am I sick? Mary heard the unmistakable metallic ping of surgical instruments touching accidentally. Are you going to operate?
The doctor did not answer her.
I' m Mary Sandowski. I' m a nurse. If you tell me what you're going to do, I'll understand, I won't be
