Amanda nodded.
Dom had a cabin in the mountains
Near Ghost Lake, wasn't it?
Frank nodded, and Amanda felt sick.
The detective told us that it had burned to the ground. Dom and a young woman were inside when the fire started. The police determined that it was arson.
Where was Tony? Amanda asked, using every ounce of will to keep her tone casual.
He was in Mexico for winter break. I' m the one who had to phone him and tell him that his father was dead. Frank shook his head sadly as he remembered the call.
So you talked to him, you spoke to him?
Not right away. If I remember, I left a message at his hotel asking him to call. I think he got in touch a day or so later. Then he flew home.
What does his father's murder or his problems have to do with you not liking Tony? You can't blame him for his father's sins.
Frank thought for a moment before replying.
What Tony's done, becoming a doctor, is admirable, but growing up the way he did can affect a young man; it leaves scars. Sometimes they're permanent and they prevent a man from ever figuring out how to relate to a woman. Tony's father was a drunk and a womanizer, and he was physically abusive. That's the lesson he taught Tony. When you told me he was dating you and seeing another woman at the same time, it made me think of the way Dom treated women.
Amanda stood up. It was all she could do to keep her legs from shaking.
Thanks, Dad. I've got to go now.
Sure. I hope I didn't upset you.
No, I' m fine.
Amanda flashed a smile and hoped it masked her fear. Then she turned and left the office, fighting hard to keep from running.
Chapter 62
The orderly on duty outside the secured ward looked up when two men wearing white coats over casual clothes got out of the elevator. Dimitri Novikov and Igor Timoshenko were arguing about this year's prospects for the Seattle Mariners. They both carried cups of coffee. Timoshenko had a stethoscope around his neck. The guard relaxed. That's when Novikov pressed his silenced pistol against the guard's temple.
Please ring for your friend who is inside, Dimitri asked politely in barely accented English. I will be lowering my pistol as soon as you do, but my companion is also armed and he will kill you if there is any trouble.
As soon as the guard pressed the button, the weapon disappeared. A moment later a face pressed against the bulletproof glass in the door to the ward.
We're here to examine Dr. Cardoni, Novikov said into the intercom next to the door. Then he turned to Timoshenko and continued to press his position that the Mariners had no chance of winning their division.
Their relievers are pathetic, he said emphatically.
He was midway through listing the earned-run averages of the team's relief pitchers when the door opened. He stopped arguing long enough to press his gun against the orderly's stomach.
One word and I will kill you. Lead us to Dr. Cardoni's room.
The orderly's eyes widened. He turned without speaking and started down the corridor. He was so frightened that the pfft made by Timoshenko's silenced pistol did not register. Timoshenko closed the door to the ward, locked it and followed Novikov and the orderly. On the other side of the door, blood from a fatal head wound spread over the surface of the guard's desk.
Timoshenko and Novikov were Russians who lived in Seattle. Martin Breach had used their talents before for special jobs. The previous evening they had met Art Prochaska in a video arcade in Vancouver, Washington. Prochaska had paid them $25,000 and promised another $25,000 if they delivered Vincent Cardoni to Breach alive and relatively unharmed. He had given the Russians a floor plan of the hospital and a detailed diagram of the secured ward. An elevator inside the ward was used to move prisoners. An ambulance driven by another Russian was parked outside a ground-floor door of the hospital. All Novikov and Timoshenko had to do was gain access to Cardoni's room, sedate him and take him down the elevator. Breach did not care how they accomplished their task as long as they delivered their package.
The policeman who was sitting outside Cardoni's room was surprised to see two doctors following the orderly down the corridor. He knew the schedule by heart, and no one was supposed to be examining the prisoner at two o' clock in the morning. The officer stood and took one step forward before Timoshenko shot him in the forehead. Blood from the exit wound splattered across the window in the door to Cardoni's room. The orderly made a half turn, but he was dead before he could complete it. It was always best to leave no witnesses.
Novikov took the orderly's keys and opened the door. He put his pistol in the pocket of his white coat and withdrew a syringe. The room was dark, but Novikov could make out a large shape under a blanket and sheet. He moved quietly, not wanting to wake Cardoni. Prochaska had made it clear that there would be no more money if Cardoni was killed or badly injured, and Novikov did not want to have to explain failure to Martin Breach.
Cardoni's blanket covered him from head to toe. Novikov was standing over the bed before he could make out the top of the surgeon's head in the darkened room. The Russian pulled the covers back slowly. He was leaning down to inject Cardoni when the surgeon plunged a bedspring through Novikov's ear and into his brain. It was the same bedspring he had broken off from the underside of his bed and spent hours straightening and sharpening in the dark while planning his escape. The hypodermic fell to the floor and shattered. Cardoni propped up the Russian, who twitched for a moment before becoming limp.
Timoshenko glanced down the hall, then looked through the window to see how his partner was doing. Novikov's body was bent forward, shielding Cardoni from Timoshenko, whose view was partially obscured by the blood that had spattered across the window in the steel door. Cardoni slid out from under his attacker and lowered Novikov's body onto the bed. He found the Russian's weapon while Timoshenko was figuring out that something unplanned had occurred in the darkened room. Cardoni shot the Russian while he was charging through the door.
When Cardoni was certain that his assailants were dead, the surgeon stripped Novikov, who was closest to his size and whose clothes were unstained by blood. In a few minutes Cardoni was dressed in street clothes covered by a doctor's white coat. A stethoscope was draped around his neck. He took the elevator to the ground floor and walked out of St. Francis Medical Center.
Sean McCarthy's call awakened Mike Greene from a deep sleep at five-thirty. He had been bleary-eyed when he picked up the receiver, but the news of Cardoni's escape acted like a double shot of espresso. Greene was so distracted that he recalled little of the drive through the darkened streets of Portland. The first thing that did make an impression was the large bloodstain that covered the desk outside the secured ward. He shivered involuntarily as he walked through the law enforcement personnel who jammed the corridor outside Cardoni's room.
Sean McCarthy was talking to a fingerprint expert. A policeman and a man in an orderly's clothes lay on the green linoleum floor in pools of blood a few feet from the detective. Greene smelled the dead men before he saw them. He looked up so that the bodies were only in his peripheral vision.
As soon as he spotted the deputy district attorney, McCarthy walked to meet him.
Let's get out of here, McCarthy said. I need some coffee.
How did he get away? Greene asked as soon as they were in the elevator.
We're not sure yet. We found five bodies. We've identified three of them: the orderly who mans the desk in front of the elevator and the policeman and orderly who were found outside Cardoni's room. Here's where it gets weird. There are two dead men in Cardoni's room. One man was shot as he came through the door. He was dressed like a doctor, but he was holding a pistol with a silencer. The techs think it's the weapon that was used to kill the cop and the two orderlies.
The second man was killed with a sharpened bedspring. Cardoni worked it off the bottom of his bed. The second man is only wearing underwear, and we found Cardoni's hospital gown on the floor. We assume Cardoni's wearing the dead man's clothing.
Was the guy a doctor?
We don't know, but no doctors were scheduled to visit Cardoni and no one from St. Francis has been able to
