Down in the Zero

'Tell him I have something I need to show him. A tape.'

'As I explained— '

'I don't mean to be discourteous, miss. But please just tell him what I told you— I believe he'll understand the urgency of my request.'

'Very well. If you'll hold for another few moments, I'll try and track him down.'

I lit a cigarette, smoked it down while I held the receiver to my ear. If this card didn't play, there was always the bottom of the deck.

'Mr. Burke?' It was Barrymore's voice, blue–tinged, loaded with resignation.

'I'm here. Sorry to disturb you from your practice, but I really think you should see this tape.'

'Yes, I'm sure. There's really no need. If you'll just— '

'It's not what you think, Doctor. I'm coming to you in friendship, believe me.'

'All right. Can you come this evening? Say at nine?'

'I'll be there. And, Doctor…'

'Yes.'

'Please believe what I just told you. I am coming in friendship. You're a professional— so am I. Understand?'

'Yes. Yes, I do.'

'I'm going in,' I said into the phone. 'Tonight. Nine o'clock.'

'I've got your back,' Blankenship replied.

He let me in himself. The house felt empty, the phones quiet. I followed him into his office.

'You have a VCR here?' I asked.

'Over there,' he pointed. 'But, as I told you, it's not necessary. Just tell me what you want.'

I ignored him. Slid my cassette into the machine, turned it on. I saw Barrymore's face twitch as the picture came into focus.

'Over there, I did my job,' Blankenship was saying on the screen. Barrymore sat straight up, eyes riveted, head cocked to hear every word.

I let it play through. Right up to a tight close–up of Blankenship's nobody's–home, truth–telling eyes:

I don't care. About anything. He did that to her, I'm going to put his heart on her grave.

'You see why I had to show this to you, Doctor? He's out there. Right now. Waiting.'

'God! I didn't…I mean, I thought….'

'Yeah, you thought it was a blackmail tape, didn't you? You and Charm, getting it on. Or was it you and Fancy?'

'I don't know what you're…I was never with either of them.'

'Sure. And it's a big surprise to you, isn't it? That Charm would be in the blackmail business.'

His head slumped forward. 'No. I knew that. That's how she …got in here. To work. I thought— '

'It doesn't matter what you thought. Not anymore. This is out of control. Charm's a nasty, mean little bitch all right, but you're running with the big dogs now. I'll be sure to tell Angelo Mondriano how good you keep secrets.'

The blood drained from his face but he kept his professional mask on, fighting for control. 'Who's that?'

'Well, seems like now it's plain old Robert L. Testa, of Seattle, Washington. We've got all the names, Doctor. Before and after. The new addresses too. I know you changed the faces. Probably got all–new documentation too. A beautiful job you guys do. But this is your lucky day— that's not why I'm here.'

'You…don't understand,' he said. 'This place was my dream. We have the finest facility in the country. We can do things for children that are truly remarkable. But it costs a fortune.'

'Don't these rich kids all have some kind of insurance?'

'Insurance doesn't begin to cover some of our work. We don't just take children from this area, we have a sliding scale. Some scholarships too.'

'So when Cherry came up with the idea…?'

'She…stores information. Like a computer. I know it's…illegal. But, the way she put it, it's as though some foundation was funding our work.'

'Yeah, that's nice. You help people lose themselves, the money helps kids find themselves, right?'

'You make it sound so— '

'Your pal Charm's been killing kids,' I told him. 'Or trying to, anyway. I can't tell. Take a look.'

His hands were shaking— he gripped the edge of his desk to steady them, a shot fighter, lying back on the ropes, waiting for the ref to stop the contest. I tossed the Mole's calculations on his desk. He looked at the papers without moving his hands, frozen, watching the scorpion twitching its tail on the polished wood.

'What is— ?'