medals inVietnam, I pushed myself in business because I wanted to beat you out atsomething.'
'Well, you did.'
'So what? The point is it was always justsomething inside me. You never did or said anything to make me feel I had totop you. What difference does it make anyhow? It's not a contest. It never hasbeen. It's our lives. You're my only brother, Harry. I don't want to lose you.'
Harry stared at his brother through thedim light. It was the first time he had ever heard Phil talk this way. Heleaned against the soft, leather headrest of the passenger seat.
'Remember that day in front of my officewhen you told me not to worry, that something would come along for me to pushagainst? Well, something has, Phil. A monster. His name's Anton Perchek. He'san M.D. And I'm not going to stop pushing against him until he's finished or Iam.' He wrote the name down and passed it over. 'If anything happens to me,this is the man who killed Evie. He also killed Caspar Sidonis, Andy Barlow,one of my favorite patients, and God only knows how many other people. The Fedsknow who he is, but they might not admit it. I think he did some torture workfor the CIA. He's supposed to have died years ago, but they have a fingerprintof his taken from Evie's hospital room.
'I had stopped caring, Phil. I don't knowwhy — maybe turning fifty, maybe Evie, maybe that goddamn family curse I'vebeen so wrapped up in. But I care now, Phil. Thanks to that bastard, Perchek,things matter to me again. That woman, Maura, the one the note is for, she'svery special. I want the chance to get to know her better. Maybe get marriedagain someday- if not to her, then to someone like her. Maybe have a kid or twoso
'I'll spoil the hell out of them. Do youknow where you're going from here?'
'I do, but I don't want you to know.You're already going to have to lie to the police because of me.'
'You know how to get hold of me.'
'I do. Don't worry, Phil. I'm gonna winthis one.'
'I know. I know you are. Well. . um.. we'd better get going.'
'Thank Ziggy for me. And give my love toGail and the kids.'
For a few seconds, the brothers stood insilence by the door. Then, for the first time since the death of their father,they embraced.
Rocky Martino, the night doorman atHarry's apartment building, had more than enough reason for having an extra nipor two. It had been the longest, most stressful night of his life. In the spaceof just a few hours, half of Manhattan seemed to have descended on him,everyone looking for Harry Corbett. The Manhattan police, the New Jerseypolice, even the FBI — something about moving a body across state lines. Crewsfrom several TV stations and some radio people as well had come by and spokenwith him. But all he could tell any of them was that he had no idea when HarryCorbett had left the building or when he would be back.
The one thing that he did not tell any ofthe news people, but he did tell the police, was that Maura Hughes had comeback to the apartment at ten-thirty and was still there. Two officers had goneup and spoken to her for over an hour.
Early on, Rocky knew that he was in overhis head and had the presence of mind to call down Shirley Bowditch, thepresident of the co-op association. She had handled everything. Now, at last,he was alone. He went to the maintenance closet just behind the door to thecellar. On the bottom shelf, in the base of a locked tool box, was his supplyof nips. He selected an ounce of Absolut and downed it in a single gulp. Theraspy burning brought warm, familiar tears to his eyes. When he returned to thelobby, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sports coat was tapping on the glass,holding up a police badge. Rocky buzzed him in. The huge man introduced himselfand the branch he was with, but whatever he said didn't register. Rocky toldhim his name.
'We need your help,' the policeman said.'How long are you going to be on duty?'
'Noon,' Rocky said. 'I work midnight untilnoon. Armand Rojas, the other doorman and I decid-'
'Good. Good, Rocky. Now listen up. There'sa woman up in Harry Corbett's apartment. Her name is Maura Hughes.'
'So?'
'If she goes by cab to meet up with him,we want to be driving her.' He guided Rocky to the street and pointed at a cabparked half a block away. 'When you want a cab for her, just point at that one.We'll do the rest.'
'O-Okay,' Rocky said, intimidated by theman's size and brusqueness.
The giant fished out a bill from hiswallet and handed it over. It was fifty.
'Do this right, Rocky, and not a word toanyone, and there'll be another one of these in it for you.'
Rocky took the bill and watched until thepoliceman had disappeared from sight. Then he headed back to the tool kit. Hewould do what the man asked because he was frightened of what would happen ifhe didn't, and because he wanted the other fifty. The guy who had gone upstairsan hour before with an envelope for Maura had only given him twenty. Hepolished off another vodka. He liked Harry Corbett, and was sorry he was insuch trouble. But hell, it wasn't Rocky Martino's fault.
He returned to the lobby. It was almostfive in the morning. He had new money in his pocket and a glow in his gut aswarm as sunrise. Outside, half a block away, the cab stood waiting. He lickedhis lips and thought about the sudden windfall, soon to be increased by anotherfifty bucks. No one could criticize him for cooperating with the police. No oneat all.
Chapter38
Four o'clock. . five. . five-thirty. . The phone in Harry's apartment continued ringing almost incessantly. Thebizarre events surrounding the gunman at Manhattan Medical Center, followed bythe execution-style slaying of Caspar Sidonis, had thrust him into the centerof the media spotlight. Maura sat alone in the den, watching the story evolveon local and national TV as she used the answering machine to screen calls. TheSimpson and Tonya Harding cases had dominated the airwaves more, but not bythat much. Stations were breaking for updates every five or ten minutes, andone was rehashing the events continuously. Footage of Sidonis's life and manyaccomplishments was beginning to appear.
Maura was emotionally and physicallyexhausted. But she was far too keyed up and worried about Harry to sleep.Tucked between the pillows of the sofa was the note that a man named White haddelivered just a few hours before.
White would say nothing to her except thatHarry was unharmed and safe. An hour later, Albert Dickinson had come up to seeher. Guns drawn, he and another policeman had searched the apartment. Despitethe other officer, Dickinson was as abrasive and disrespectful as he had beenin the hospital. He had no patience for hearing any stories from her aboutHarry Corbett's innocence, Anton Perchek, or anyone else. All he wanted to knowwas where he could find his man.
'Miss Hughes, do you know the penalties inthis state for aiding and abetting a fugitive wanted for murder?' he asked. 'Ifyou know where Corbett is, and you don't tell us, I promise that you will spendmost of the rest of life in prison.'
'I can't imagine a prison that could beany more unpleasant than this conversation,' Maura said, smiling sweetly.
'Being a wiseass must be generic. I'mpleased to tell you we just gave that detective's job away to someone who wasmore of a team player and less of a wiseass than your Yalie brother.'
'Lieutenant, if you're going to smoke,you'll have to do it outside.'
Maura pointed to the sixth-story windowrather than the door. For a frozen moment, she thought Dickinson was going tostrike her. Finally, with a
