‘How is he?’ Hunter demanded.
‘Carlos lost a lot of blood, what the doctors call a class-four hemorrhage. In consequence, his heart, liver and kidneys have weakened considerably. He was given a blood transfusion, but other than that there isn’t much else anyone can do. We have to wait for him to fight back.’
‘Fight back?’ Hunter’s voice now showing a slight quiver.
‘He’s stable, but still unconscious. They are not calling it a coma just yet. His vital signs are weak . . . very weak. He’s in the ICU.’
Hunter buried his head in his hands.
‘Carlos is a strong man – he’ll come out of it,’ the captain reassured him.
‘I’ve gotta go see him.’
‘You ain’t going nowhere for now. What the fuck happened, Robert? I almost lost two detectives in one go and I didn’t even know what the hell was going on.’
‘What the fuck do you think, Captain? The killer went after Carlos,’ Hunter shot back angrily.
‘But why? Are you telling me the killer suddenly decided to up his game and become a cop killer? That’s not what he’s about.’
‘Is that so? So please tell me, Captain, what is the killer about?’
Captain Bolter avoided Hunter’s eyes.
‘I’ve been after him for over three years and the only thing I know he’s about is torturing and killing. Who he kills seems to make no fucking difference. It’s all a game to him and Carlos was supposed to be just another pawn,’ Hunter said, trying to raise his voice.
‘Run me through what happened,’ the captain ordered in a calm voice.
Hunter went over every detail, from the time he’d received the phone call to when he’d closed his eyes waiting for the explosion.
‘Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you call for back-up?’
‘Because the killer had said no back-up. I wasn’t about to gamble with Carlos’s life.’
‘It doesn’t make sense. If you’d beaten him at his own game, why set the detonator again?’
Hunter shook his head, staring at the floor.
‘He wanted you both dead. No matter what,’ Captain Bolter concluded.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘If he didn’t want you killed, why reset the bomb?’
‘Evidence.’
‘What?’
‘That room was full of evidence, Captain. The tape recorder, the cage, the explosives, the door-lock mechanism, the wheelchair. If we were to get our hands on all of that, something was bound to give us a lead. Blow it all to hell and we’ve got nothing.’
The captain made a face as if he wasn’t very convinced.
‘The cross came off its base as if it had been greased,’ Hunter continued. ‘It was too easy. The amount of explosives the killer used was exactly enough to destroy only the laundry room. We were just about two feet from the door. The killer could’ve arranged for a stronger explosion, one that would’ve obliterated the entire basement floor giving us no chance of escaping. The primary objective of the explosion wasn’t to kill.’
‘So the killer has knowledge of explosives?’
‘At least some,’ Hunter said nodding.
‘What do you mean “At least some”?’
‘I don’t believe the bomb was anything spectacular. Definitely not state of the art or terrorist style. Yes, the killer would need some knowledge of explosives to put it together and build the detonating mechanism, but he wouldn’t need to be an expert.’
‘And where the fuck would he get explosives from?’
‘This is America, Captain,’ Hunter answered with a sarcastic chuckle. ‘The land where money buys you anything you want. With the right contacts and cash you could get an antiaircraft gun never mind a small amount of explosives to blow up a basement room. If the killer has enough understanding of chemistry he could’ve built it himself using easy-to-purchase chemicals.’
The captain shook his head in silence for a few seconds. ‘We’re gonna have to come clean about this case you know that, right? The press is all over this now. Explosives, a detective being crucified alive. It’s a goddamn circus out there, and we’re the clowns.’
Hunter had nothing to say. The room had almost stopped spinning and he tried standing up once again. As his feet touched the floor Hunter let out an agonizing grunt. His new shoes had done a good job of rubbing his feet raw.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ the captain asked.
‘I gotta go see Carlos – where is he?’
The captain ran his hand over his mustache and regarded Hunter with a sharp gaze. ‘I told you, in the ICU. C’mon, I’ll show you.’
As he walked past the small mirror to the left of the room door, Hunter stopped and peered critically at his outline. He looked like death. Hundreds of small cuts covered his tired and pale face. His eyes were bloodshot. His lower lip was swollen and disfigured. A blob of dried blood decorated the right corner of his mouth. He’d aged ten years in one afternoon.
‘You must be Anna,’ Hunter said as he entered the L-shaped ICU room.
A short dark-haired woman was sitting next to Garcia’s bed. Her complexion heavy, her hazel eyes swollen from crying.
‘And you must be Robert.’ She sounded weak and shattered.
Hunter attempted to give her a smile, but his cheeks gave way. ‘I’m sorry we’re meeting this way.’ He extended a shivering hand.
She shook his hand with the most gentle of touches, her eyes filling up with tears. In silence all three of them stared at an unconscious Garcia. He lay flat under a thin coverlet. Tubes came out of his mouth, nose and arms looping away through the bed frame and connecting to two separate machines. His hands and head were heavily bandaged and his face bruised and cut. A heart monitor beeped steadily at the corner of the room and at the sight of it Hunter shuddered.
Garcia looked peaceful but fragile. Hunter stepped closer and placed a soft hand on his right arm.
‘C’mon, rookie, you can fight this, this is easy,’ he whispered tenderly. ‘The difficult part is over. We got out of there, rookie. We beat him. We beat him at his own game . . . you and I.’
Hunter kept his hand on Garcia’s arm for a while longer before turning to face Anna. ‘He’s very strong, he’s gonna come out of this easy. He’s probably just sleeping it off.’
Anna had no reply. Tears rolled down her face. Hunter returned his attention to Garcia and bent over to draw level with him. He seemed to be searching for something.
‘Is something wrong?’ the captain asked.
Hunter shook his head and pressed down on Garcia’s pillow around neck height being careful not to disturb his head. Very gently he ran his finger around the back of his partner’s neck.
‘C’mon, he needs the rest and so do you,’ the captain said, moving towards the door. Hunter wanted to say something to Anna, but words simply evaded him. He merely followed the captain and no one said a word until they were back in Hunter’s room.
‘He had no mark,’ Hunter spoke first.
‘What?’
‘On the back of Carlos’s neck . . . no carving. The killer didn’t mark him.’
‘And what does that mean?’
‘It means he wasn’t supposed to die.’
‘He wasn’t supposed to die? But you could’ve pressed the wrong button.’
Hunter had no answer. He tried to think but the thumping inside his head prevented him. He sat down on the bed as the room started spinning again.
‘You’re gonna have to brief Matt and Doyle on the case,’ the captain said, breaking the silence.
‘What? What are you talking about?’
