Night Victims

Paula looked into her blue eyes and saw fear but no panic. So cool under this kind of pressure. Paula could understand why Horn had married her, why her marriage to a cop had survived so many years.

“Not exactly at home,” Horn said.

Anne paused and looked at him. “You’re calling in that promise I made to you?”

“It has to be that way.” He explained the situation, watching her expression change as he did so.

Paula watched, too. Almost panic in those eyes now. For only an instant. .

“That makes it intensely personal,” Anne said.

“And intensely dangerous.”

“What about the dead guard’s tooth that was left on my dresser?”

“Mandle’s grisly souvenir, but to his killer it looked like a calling card he could leave to establish the false impression that the Night Spider was on the hunt again.”

Anne rested a hand on the desk as if for support but didn’t actually lean her weight on it. “I’ll do what you say. Where am I going?”

“I’m thinking your brother’s cabin in upstate New York. He only uses it in the winter, for hunting. If we can get you there without anyone following, you should be safe. You’ll be heavily guarded there, too, of course.”

“I can call him,” Anne said, “find out where he hides the key.”

“Don’t call him. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. We’ll get you into the cabin even if we have to force a lock or break a window. We’ll explain it to your brother later; he’ll understand.”

“Jim’s in Philadelphia. And he’d never tell anyone where I was.”

“He would if they started snipping off his fingers.”

Anne looked ill. “Jesus, Thomas. . Can I go to my apartment and pick up some clothes?”

“Of course. Paula and Bickerstaff will drive you. Then they’ll take you to the cabin after making sure nobody’s following. Do you have your Ladysmith thirty-eight here, or at your apartment?”

“Neither. I left it. I didn’t want to live with guns anymore.”

“Swing by the brownstone and get it,” Horn said to Bickerstaff. “She’s qualified and can shoot both eyes out of a gnat.”

This seemed a bad idea to Paula: maybe the gnat had to be sitting still: maybe one of the cops guarding Anne would be mistaken for a gnat.

Anne started to hoist the big valise down from the desk, but Bickerstaff hastily stepped forward and took it from her. He wheezed and was obviously surprised by its weight.

“When you leave the brownstone,” Horn said to Bicker-staff, “give me a call.”

He watched them leave, Anne walking between Paula and Bickerstaff, who was leaning sideways, the heavy valise bumping against his knee with every step.

When they were gone Horn talked to the security cops at the hospital, then called Lieutenant Burton to arrange for re-assignments.

Then he took an elevator to a floor where he knew there was a large waiting area with public phones in insulated stalls, where people had privacy to inform friends and family of joyous or tragic news. Either way, they could shed tears without anyone watching.

The carpeted area lined with sofas and chairs was almost unoccupied. No one was near the phones, and the TV mounted on the wall was showing a muted Law and Order rerun with Jerry Orbach as Detective Lenny Briscoe. Horn’s favorite.

He used one of the phones to call Victor Kray at the Rion Hotel.

“There’s news?” Kray asked, when Horn had identified himself.

“The news is your list of SSF members was incomplete. You left off Joe Vine.”

“What’s Vine got to do with Mandle?”

“Why did you leave him off the list?”

“Ah, a question in answer to a question.”

“Cop stuff,” Horn said. “We also demand answers that aren’t questions.”

“I knew Vine lived in the area, and I learned about his family situation. His son’s in a coma and might not recover. He has money problems. In fact, I think he’s suing a hospital, or is being sued. I liked Joe. He was one of our best. I was sure he was above suspicion. Still am. I simply didn’t want to involve him in this and add to his problems.”

“He’s suing the hospital where my wife works,” Horn said. “He’s suing my wife personally.”

Kray was silent while he processed the information. Then: “Where is this conversation going, Horn?”

Horn told him what he thought. After escaping from the police van, Mandle contacted his old SSF buddy Joe Vine and asked for help. Vine helped him by killing him with one of the guns Mandle took off the dead guards. Then, as the Night Spider, Vine could continue Mandle’s string of killings, and Anne Horn, wife of the Night Spider’s public nemesis, would be considered another Spider victim. Vine would never be suspected of executing the woman he held responsible for his son’s permanent near-death state. If Mandle’s body were never found, or if enough time passed to make it possible to ascertain only an approximate date of death, Mandle would be blamed for Vine’s killings as well as his own crimes.

“That doesn’t sound like the Joe Vine I knew,” Kray said. “Are you sure Mandle is dead?”

“I saw the corpse’s right foot.”

“Oh. . Christ!” What sounded almost like a sob came over the phone. It was strangely shocking to imagine Kray as its source, like a tear shed from Mount Rushmore.

“I’m not accustomed to telling people I’m sorry,” Kray said. “That’s not often done in my line of work. Maybe not in yours, either. But I am sorry, Horn. If there’s any way I can make it up to you, anything I can do. .”

“Tell me about Vine. Is he as capable as Mandle?”

“Almost. Not as adept a climber. He’s an explosives expert and a skilled sniper and knife fighter.”

“Great.”

“He didn’t like killing as much as Mandle,” Kray said. His tone of voice suggested that was something Horn needed to know.

Horn imagined Vine dutifully stabbing four women over and over to emulate Mandle’s murders, then bashing in their heads to make sure they were dead and couldn’t identify him.

He likes killing well enough.

So Mandle had waited around for his victims to suffer and bleed out, but Vine wasn’t having as much fun and wanted to leave the party early. Horn didn’t see that as much of a distinction.

“If I can help. .” Kray offered again, a plea for forgiveness.

“I’ll let you know,” Horn said, and hung up.

As he stood and turned away from the phone, he saw that Law and Order on the waiting-room TV had been interrupted for a news flash. The condemned building on the Lower East Side where Mandle’s body was found filled the screen except for the crawl at the bottom:

NIGHT SPIDER SQUASHED? IT’S REPORTED THAT LESS THAN AN HOUR AGO POLICE FOUND. .

Horn thought of Newsy and everyone like Newsy only worse. And the people who supplied their information. Damned leaks!

His cell phone chirped and he yanked it from his pocket. Oughta get a belt clip.

It was Larkin. “A SWAT unit’s on the way to Vine’s apartment,” he said. “You wanna be there for the collar or whatever?”

“You know it. I’m at Kincaid Memorial, but it won’t take me long.”

“I’ll see you there,” Larkin said. “Just make sure you don’t arrive before we do.”

As he hurried from the waiting area, Horn glanced over and saw that Law and Order was back on above the crawl. Lenny, questioning a suspect in the interrogation room, gave his patented hopeless smile and weary shrug. The world kept turning, the truth would seep out, justice would find its way to the surface. It was in the script and took about an hour.