Shassad was silent for a moment, looking absently up at a clock, rubbing his chin and wondering who the hell had been fished out of the water.
'A pair of kids were playing on the waterfront near West Houston Street' explained Gary excitedly, 'when they saw this hunk floating in the Hudson. Well, the hunk was a male in his early thirties, maybe, and he'd been floating for about thirty hours ' Gary, knowing how to deliver a punch line, paused before adding, 'The floater had a piece of paper with your name and telephone on it. I was wondering, Sergeant, if you wanted to come down and give him a peek?' Another pause and then,
'He's all puffed up and waterlogged, but the features are intact and-' 'Save it, Gary,' said Shassad.
'We'll be down 'Jesus, what a perverse kid, Shassad thought, setting down the telephone. There ought to be a law.
Shassad left Hearn at the precinct and drove down to the Thirtieth Street morgue. Gary was seated at a desk, waiting for him feet up and reading a racing newspaper.
'Got here fast, Sargel' said Gary, genuinely marveling.
'Must have been afraid he'd float out of here again before you got to view him. Want a look?'
'I didn't come for the conversation,' said Shassad.
'Where is it?'
For some reason Shassad always referred to corpses by the indefinite pronoun.
Gary Dedmarsh had a cute act of forgetfulness, reserved for such occasions.
'Let's see now,' he asked.
'Where'd I put him? Where'd he go?'
Shassad grimaced as if to say, Come on Gary, I'm not in the mood for comedy. He wasn't. Gary led him into a colder room, then down a corridor where the refrigerated drawers were kept. He looked for the proper number.
'Took a bullet right there,' offered Gary, as if trying to interest Shassad in an attractive piece of merchandise.
'Must have been high caliber. Made a real mess. Right in the center of the chest.
Then after it had floated long enough, it all puffed up and-' 'Just show it to me, just show it to me!' Shassad snapped, already envisioning the bloated features of the missing attorney.
Gary glanced at the detective. Hurt was on his face.
'Jeez,' he said slowly,
'I didn't know you was in a bad mood.'
'Just show it to me' 'I won't say nothin'.'
Gary unlocked the small door in the wall, pulled out a second panel, and pulled out the long slab. He unzipped the plastic bag.
On the flat board rested the puffy remains of a human body. Male, early thirties, just as Gary Dedmarsh had advertised.
Shassad looked into the swollen white face. He blanched slightly.
It was not the face he'd expected, not at all the features of Thomas Daniels.
'You looked surprised,' said Gary soberly.
'I am…I know him?'
'I recognize him,' said Shassad.
'He was a guard at a Romanian film company on Varick Street. I met him once. He caught me prowling around his building. I had to give him my card and number.' Gary looked at the detective, then back to the corpse, trying to decide whether there was significance to what Shassad said. He found none.
For his part, Shassad was completely silent, clearly envisioning Thomas Daniels, but not even wishing to utter the missing attorney's name.
Chapter 32
'So you see, Daniels,' Hammond said drily and without a smile, explaining for the sixth time, 'if we hadn't assumed the guardian angel role you'd probably be dead right now. Throat cut.
Drowned.
Strangled,' Hammond suggested as if the method made little difference.
'Maybe even shot, unoriginal as that is. Coffee? You look like you could use it.'
Thomas raised his hand, squinting uncomfortably through reddish eyes, and shook his head to say no. His nerves were frayed and his patience was wearing thin. He'd been taken quickly from the Park to a small Federally financed apartment on East Ninety-second Street. He'd seen the sun rise twice and set twice. Now it was evening again. Leslie sat on a nearby sofa and watched Daniels and the U.S. Treasury agent.
There were circles beneath her eyes, too.
'You don't have to drink the coffee, you know,' Hammond persisted, again without a smile.
'We could give it to you intravenously.
Are you certain you won't have some?'
'I'm sure, damn it snapped Thomas.
'I'm also sure that I want to get out of here ' Hammond sighed, shaking his head and making a tsking sound with his tongue.
'Lawyers'' he muttered with earnest dismay.
'Always asking the impossible. Never considering how things really work in the flesh-and-blood, kill-and-be- killed real world. Well, if you won't join me…'
His voice trailed off. He poured a tin saucepan's worth of lukewarm water into a cup where he'd already piled three teaspoons of instant coffee. He added saccharine, then a powdered reamer.
He sipped, he winced.
Leslie looked away, gagging and almost able to taste it herself.
'I've been a coffee drinker all my life,' announced Hammond.
'And I can't understand why.'
Thomas didn't completely understand, either, but it had nothing to do with the coffee. They had made him 'disappear,' but had given only a sketchy explanation why. He was well treated, but a prisoner. Not under arrest exactly, but sequestered. For the time being, as Hammond put it. William Ward Daniels's son was being 'protected He was owed an explanation; the debit remained outstanding.
'Protected from what? From whom?' Thomas had asked repeatedly during his first day in captivity.
'Give me specifics. Facts. And tell me how long you're keeping me here.'
'For as long as necessary,' was Hammond's unyielding reply, as if the answer were obvious. Two armed guards in the next room, which served as a living room, enforced Hammond's case. And once he'd uttered in disgust, while pointing, to Leslie,
'Look. How many times does she have to save your life? There are people out there who don't like you. They want to hurt you. Hurt you so badly that you pass away. Get it now?' Hammond appeared tired, drawn, and badly unnerved. A career man experienced in sensitive situations, he was now driving himself all the harder, trying to compensate for his age and the inner fear that he was slipping.
Thomas had to look at Leslie, who appeared bored, then back to Hammond.
'So how long is that? 'he persisted.
'Until' said Hammond confidently, 'the trash is completely collected 'Grover?' Thomas cocked his head.
Hammond scoffed.
'That wop is past history,' he said.
'Retired.'
Retired like I'd like to be, the Treasury agent thought idly.
That's what you think, Thomas reasoned silently. But he said nothing.
Hammond continued.
'New men. Able men. They're getting rid of the garbage. I'll let you know when it's safe ' Toward evening,
