"I believe this is heaven to no one else butme&
Oh the quiet child awaits the day when she canbreak free
The mold that clings like desperation&
Can't you see that I've got
To live my life the way I feel is right forme?
Might not be right for you but it's right forme&
I believe this is heaven to no one else butme,
And I'll defend it as long as I can be
Left here to linger in silence if I chooseto.
Would you try to understand?".
Sarah McLachlan: 'Elsewhere'
From the album: 'Fumbling Towards Ecstasy'
Three a.m. in the back alleys of Manhattan isneither a safe nor a friendly place. Many predators stalk the urbanjungle and, as in any wilderness, the most dangerous hunt under coverof night. Shadows move within shadows; and potential dangers lurk inevery pool of darkness.
From one of these places of thick shadow, twoheavily cloaked shapes materialized and moved silently down thelittered alleyway. A stray shaft of light reflected off a lock oflight hair, and delved beneath a heavy hood to unveil a brief gleamof watchful eye. Both shapes froze and melded with the darkness as asound came from the end of the alley. Two sets of eyes sought out thesource, a trash container near the alley mouth. From beneath, thesinuous black form of a stray cat slipped out and slunk away, lookingdisgusted and bedraggled in the cold drizzle of rain.
Vincent felt the rush of Catherine's relief. Shehad been badly startled by the seeming nearness of the sound. Afterallowing her a moment to settle, he touched her shoulder and motionedfor her to continue.
Catherine paused at the trash container the cathad exited, and carefully rummaged inside to retrieve a discardednewspaper. A few cautious steps later, she held up her hand andindicated a door.
"This is the back entrance of the vet clinic."She crouched low to the ground, picking up a broken piece of brickand several empty soda cans.
"I don't understand. What do you plan?"
"It's three in the morning. The clinic isclosed. No one is in there. I have to make it so that one of theemployees has
Together they stealthily made their way to themouth of the alley and halted. Both sets of senses stretched to theirlimits, seeking any source of potential danger beyond. The clinic wasdirectly beneath a street lamp, and exiting the alleyway would resultin certain exposure. Finally, as satisfied to their safety aspossible given the circumstances, Catherine slipped out onto thestreet, Vincent a step behind.
The clinic had a well-secured and locked door,and its windows were barred to prevent theft. Catherine slipped up tothe window and, indicating Vincent should help, flung her strengthinto bending the central bars. A sense of satisfaction welled insideher as the tough steel bars gave under their combined effort. Heftingthe brick, she smashed it against the thick glass. The windowshattered, flooding the quiet street with an explosion of sharpsound. Glass fragments rained down and carpeted the clinic floor asshe tossed the cans, one after the other, into the dark receptionarea beyond. Once the last can had bounced against the receptiondivider, she followed them with newspapers, individual sheet aftersheet. Quickly she slipped back into the alleyway, followed byVincent, and stood listening intently. A few moments later, throughthe now open window, they heard the muffled beep of the officetelephone ringing.
Nodding with satisfaction, Catherine movedfurther back into the shadows. The old brick building beside theclinic proved a simple exercise to climb, and soon she and Vincentwere huddled behind the lip of the roof. She couldn't help but smileat the expression of puzzlement on his face. Leaning towards him, shewhispered quietly. "I've been here before, investigating a lead. Theyuse a company called Sentry Alarm Systems as a security provider. Afew months ago I was involved in a robbery investigation and the samecompany was used. Their standard package includes an invisible lightbeam across all doors and windows. When the system is on and someoneenters, the beam is broken. The person has to enter a preset codeinto the system keypad within thirty seconds to deactivate the alarm.If not, the Security firm is alerted and they telephone the alarmlocation. If no one answers, or the person who answers doesn't knowthe correct code word, then Sentry security alerts the police, andalso contacts a representative of the client to alert them of abreak-in. That's what I want. One of the employees or owners shouldbe on their way here shortly."
"So, the bent bars&"
"Is to make it look like there has been abreak-in. If we just broke the window, there is a chance the policemight cancel the alert, thinking it was just minor vandalism. Thisway, someone could have entered and stolen things, so someone willhave to come and ascertainwhether this was a burglary. Also, just in case they have the deluxesystem, which if I remember correctly included motion detectors, Itossed in all that junk to set that off, too."
Vincent regarded the woman beside him withamazement. She never ceased to surprise him.
It was not much later that two vehiclesapproached and came to a stop in front of the clinic. A cautious peekrevealed two patrol cars, and two policemen entered through thebroken window. Fifteen minutes later, another car approached, a latemodel sedan, which parked behind the patrol cars. A slim, middle-agedman got out. After speaking to one of the patrol officers thatremained outside, he handed one of them a key, and they unlocked andentered the clinic. Automatically, Catherine noted the sedan'slicense plate just in case.
During the next half an hour, Catherine andVincent watched the policemen perform a fruitless search of thesurrounding area. An overheard conversation between officers revealedthat, since nothing except the window was really damaged or stolen,they felt the whole incident was just vandalism. Soon afterwards, thelast police car drove away, leaving the employee to clean up beforethe clinic opened.
Cautiously, Vincent and Catherine climbed downfrom their rooftop hiding spot and crept to the end of the alley.Catherine nearly jumped out of her skin at the sharp sound of tapebeing pulled from a roll. Exchanging a glance with Vincent, shecollected herself, rounded the corner of the building and threwherself into the clinic through the broken window.
The young man who had been taping plastic overthe window frame to keep out the drizzling rain was thrown back bythe impact of a leaping body. Unbelievably strong hands grasped himand threw him to the ground face first. His frantic struggle ceasedabruptly as he felt the cold stab of what must be tiny knives againstthe back of his neck. The weight of a knee in his back pressed downas a husky female voice spoke inches from his left ear.
"We need to talk."
'Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.' Catherinethought frantically as she looked behind her to watch the subwaytrain glide to a stop. 'What am I doing?'
"Catherine. You can do this! Remember the climb to your balcony? This is the same;it's easier than it seems. The top of each car has a series of smallgrips for maintenance use. Just drop down and grab one. The train isnot moving very quickly at this point. Trust me."
"What's wrong with taking my car from the garageand just driving there?" Catherine felt as well as heard the edge ofpanic in her voice with a jolt of disgust. 'What the hell's wrongwith you, Chandler? Buck up!'
"You told me why. The reporters might bewatching your apartment building. Relax. I've done this manytimes."
Catherine closed her eyes briefly. Yes, she hadbeen the one to point that out, but that was before she was hangingonto a ledge twenty feet inside a subway tunnel, waiting to jump downonto a moving train!
The man at the clinic had proven quite helpful.Absolute terror often has that effect. Catherine's description of thebald man she had observed in the park had borne fruit. It seemed thatDr. Malcolm Brighton, one of the resident vets, matched thedescription perfectly. It also seemed that Dr. Brighton had called insick Wednesday, and had been off ever since. She had been verycareful to blindfold the clinic worker, to ensure he didn't see her,although the psychological effect of that move on his willingness toanswer her questions was not unwelcome either. After getting the gooddoctor's home address, she had tied the man's hands and feet, takenhim to the back room, and locked him in a kennel.
Of course, it would be that Dr. Brighton'saddress was way out of tunnel range, into the very outskirts of thesuburbs, and almost out of subway range. As it was, the route theymust take would travel above ground for many miles.
"Remember, you don't know the routes as I do.Keep your head down until we leave the underground." Catherineblinked. The few passengers traveling at just after four on aSaturday morning had boarded and the train began to move. The frontcar passed beneath her.
"Catherine!" Looking down, Catherine could seethe series of protrusions she had to grab. So small
"Catherine, hurry!"
Taking a deep breath, Catherine focused andjumped.
The four-foot drop seemed to take forever, buther feet did finally make contact with the cold metal roof. For amoment, she felt herself slide as her body attempted to compensatefor the forward movement of the train. Claws scrabbled against metalas she dropped to her knees and frantically grabbed for one of thesmall handles. Once she had one, she fell prone and tucked her headdown. She could feel Vincent's relief for her as he dropped downhimself, several cars back.
The buffeting wind was nothing. It was thestopping that was tough. She hung on to her handle for dear life asmomentum forced her body forward when the train slowed to a halt.Soon however, the musty scent of the underground was behind, replacedby fresh air, and she lifted her head cautiously to observe theirswift passage. Being able to see helped, and soon she found herselfrelaxing. Her sense of Vincent fed her a tickle of his excitement,and after examination, she had to agree.
Once you got used to it, this could befun
Joe Maxwell hurt. Everywhere. Force of habitmade him test the bonds that held his arms to the back of the chair.Needles of pain shot through him as he moved his hands. Useless. Hisleft eye was still swollen shut from the vicious punch he had gottenwhen he had tried to run. Burning pain in his side indicated at leastone badly bruised if not broken rib.
A small feminine moan, heard through the totaldarkness, came from his left at last. Sandra was awake.
"Joe? Are you still here?"
"Yeah, I'm here. You OK?"
"No. No I'm not. But I'm not dying either. Atleast, I don't think so."
What a mess! It had all started with Cathy'sinformation about the vet clinic.
First thing the morning after their meeting hehad registered an anonymous tip and had arranged for surveillance onthe Best Friends Veterinary Clinic. Then, following a hunch of hisown, he had decided to talk with the woman at the hospital Cathy hadmentioned. Sandra Berringer. He arranged to meet her at a smallrestaurant a few blocks from the hospital after she got off work forthe day. A nice lady, Sandra proved very easy to talk to, and quitehelpful. Yes, it seemed that a viable organ was
That ol' Maxwell Italian charm still worked. Atleast in combination with a District Attorney's ID. Even though itwas late in the evening, Joe had persuaded Sandra to go back to thehospital with him. Her in-basket held the paperwork for the organdonation, a liver, taken from a recent traffic accident victim. Theoperating physician was a Dr. Steven Carson, one of the staffdoctors. In response to his request to check out the body himself,Sandra had escorted him to the morgue. Dr. Carson worked nights,Sunday to Thursday, but the pathologist on duty was quitecooperative. His records indicated the body was to be picked up firstthing in the morning, for transfer to a funeral parlor for cremation.Imagine his surprise when the drawer containing the 'donor' held abody that had extensive abdominal damage, and whose subsequentautopsy revealed a present, though badly damaged liver.
It hadn't taken long to put the wheels inmotion. Joe had called to request Dr. Carson be brought in forquestioning, thanked Sandra for her help, and gone home. Later,several toughs dragged him roughly from sleep, threw a coat on himand marched him from his apartment to his car, a gun pressed to hisside. They had brought him here - wherever here was. Somewhereoutside the city proper, judging by the length of time it had takento travel. He had been locked in the trunk for the entire trip.
"Joe? We're not going to get out of this alive,are we?"
Things smelled different outside the city.Cleaner. The acrid overlay of exhaust fumes was less. All senses werefocused for the slightest hint of movement, of danger, as Catherineand Vincent crept through the underbrush along the side of the road,counting house numbers.
This area to the north of the city was one ofthe older neighborhoods. Formerly a small town that had beenswallowed by urban sprawl, many of the old homes still remained.These houses, purchased by the wealthy commuters who spent yearsfixing up the heritage homes, were generally for the well off andenjoyed a relatively large lot size.
After creeping along the road for about a mile,they reached their destination, an old box style farmhouse, fittedwith many additions over the years to make a sprawling structure. Thegrounds were not well kept, and allowed the couple plenty of cover asthey stealthily approached the house. Several times Vincent checkedthe sky worriedly. Dawn was so close.
The noise of a car engine preceded the sweep ofheadlights over their place of concealment. Both felt a stab of alarmwhen the vehicle slowed and turned into the drive. A large series ofshrubs and the dark concealment of their cloaks hid the couple wellas the vehicle drove past their hiding place and pulled to a stopbeside the house.
Something about that particular black sedan, ahigh end Mercedes, picked at Catherine's memory. The driver's sideopened and a huge black man got out, crossed to the opposite side,and opened the rear door. From the vehicle stepped a tall older man,a ring of white hair adding cold emphasis to a pinched, pale face.Lifting her hood so she could get a good look, she smothered a gaspof shock
"What is it? Do you know those men?"
Catherine shook her head and refocused. Yes, shecould swear& "That man, the old man – I'm sure that's AaronDowny. He's one of John Montolli's men, fairly high up. Joe's beenafter Montolli for years. Around the office, he's called Teflon John,because we can never get anything on him that'll stick. He's a majorfigure in organized crime."
Two nasty looking companions exited the vehicleafter Downy. Together the three men walked to the front door, ringingthe doorbell promptly. Several minutes and several rings later,Catherine heard the door open, and the beginnings of a loudcomplaint. One of the large brutes grabbed the unseen person, endinghis little speech, and the group quietly entered the house, leavingthe chauffeur alone.
After waiting several minutes, the chauffeur lita cigarette and leaned back against the car. Seeing him relax hisguard, Vincent began to slowly lead the way from the vehicle.Sensitive night sight registered an abrupt increase in light levelfrom the back of the house, and they ensured they stayed as much inthe shadows as possible. Creeping even more cautiously, Catherine andVincent gave the chauffeur a wide berth. They were just rounding theback corner of the house, when the muffled crack of a gunshot washeard.
Voices. Yes, those were definitely voices comingdown the stairs. Joe shook his head, trying to rid himself of thepersistent buzzing noise that had been present since the blow to hishead. The sudden flare as the overhead light switched on wasblinding
"Well, well, well."
Joe's eyes flew open at that reedy, ice-coldvoice. It couldn't be&.
"It seems you find yourself in a bit of apredicament now, don't you, Mr. Maxwell?
"Aaron Downy. I should have known your outfitwould have its fingers in a nice little profitable business likethis. Typical. People are just product to your kind."
"Now, Joe! Let's be civilized. I must apologizefor taking so long to visit you, but your little surveillancearrangement on my friend's business needed termination, and a fewleaks plugged. I've managed to eliminate any potential problems,though. Now there's just& you."
"What, you come all this way to gloat?" Throughwatering eyes, Joe watched with loathing as a smirk threatened tocrack Downy's tightly drawn skin.
The pale man laughed, a nasty scratchingchuckle. "Gloat? Why? Do you really think your piddling littleattempts to stop the organization even hinder our operations? Youflatter yourself, my friend. People like you are like flies on ahorse. Annoying, but definitely not a threat. No, Joe, I have aproposition for you. Roger, please release our friend."
One of the burly men who had accompanied Downymoved quietly around to the back of Joe's chair and untied the ropes.Joe tried to move his arms. For a moment, his mental commands had noeffect, but finally his shoulders began to roll forward and hisfingers flexed. The pain that followed was excruciating, red-hotknives driven into joints and muscles. The intensity made his stomachheave, and a taste of bile rose to the back of his throat. Being tiedto a chair for several days will do that. The inevitable bodilyfunctions had eventually won out over control, as well. Altogether,he was a mess. Downy waited patiently as Joe finally managed tostand. At his order, Joe was fetched a glass of water.
"Mr. Joseph Maxwell. Deputy District Attorney.Trying so hard to make a difference in this town. Not that it doesmuch good now, does it? Oh, you get some third class hoods off thestreet, some wife abusers behind bars. Mostly, they eventually getout to steal or murder or assault their women again, don't they? Andfor all this work, this heartache, what do you
"People like me, like John, we are totallyunaffected by your pathetic efforts. Yet you keep on trying, like abeaten horse pulling a cart until it drops. Then what happens, onceyou're burned out from your useless labors? Do they take care of you?Oh no. You are forgotten, just another casualty, and some other pooridealistic schmuck is harnessed in your place."
"But you have the power to change that. I cangive you that opportunity. Yes, I can. You will find my friends and Ican be extremely generous to ourfriends. Generous enough for you to get a decent place to live, maybea nice vacation, and some interesting toys as well. Decent enough soyou will never have to worry about money again. And all we ask of ourfriends is a little help sometimes. A little indulgence. Nothing too
difficult. What do you say?"
Joe focused on the white haired man before him.He knew Downy's kind. Snakes. They used you, and stabbed you in theback when your usefulness was done. And while they had you, your lifebecame a living hell; it was no longer your life, it was theirlife. But all that was secondaryto the fact that he would never do it. Period. Joe Maxwell was noone's puppet lawyer. "Go to hell, Downy. It'll be like old home weekfor you."
The pale gray eyes gazed at Joe for a moment,before shifting to focus coldly on the unconscious figure of SandraBerringer. Casually, Downy strolled over to her, close enough to ruba strand of her dark hair between his fingers. "Ah now, Joe. Don'tdisappoint me. After all, you're not the only one in this predicamentnow, are you? There's this lovely lady to consider." Joe lifted hishead and looked away, steeling himself to ignore the obvioustaunting. A slow sigh filled the chamber. Eyes like dirty ice flickedto the huge man on his left as he moved away from the chair where thewoman was bound. The shaved head inclined in understanding before thepaw-like hands reached inside his overcoat to draw out a largehandgun. Taking aim, he fired. The high caliber bullet smashed intoher right knee, which exploded in a shower of blood, bone, and tissuefragments. Sandra jerked and inhaled a sucking scream before slumpingforward again.
Downy flicked a fragment off the lapel of hisexpensive wool overcoat with distaste. "What a pity you made thatunfortunate action necessary. Did I mention that you and the womanget to live as part of the bargain?"
"You son of a bitch!"
"Now Joe, calm down and let's re-think this fora moment. Agree to be our man in the DA's office and you get friends,money, and you get to live long enough to enjoy them to the fullest.Refuse our offer, and you and the woman die. Painfully. Theintelligent choice I would think is obvious."
They were going to kill her. How could he beresponsible for that? He had to get them both out of this&
"Alright, you win. I'll do it. Just make itworth my while."
Downy studied Joe. Even swaying with exhaustion,he wasn't a very convincing actor. He was agreeing just to get thewoman and himself released. No doubt, as soon as he was free, hewould put her into protective custody, and prosecute. But, maybe...An idea slithered snakelike into Downy's thoughts. Yes...perfect.
"Good, good. You've said the right thing. Nowexplain to me why I don't think you're sincere?"
"I said I'd doit! What do you want, blood?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes. I think, in thiscase, a demonstration of good faith, of loyalty if you will, isnecessary."
"Demonstration? What are you talking about?"
Downy motioned one of his muscled companionsover, and spoke quietly. The man nodded and moved to stand next toJoe.
"You know as well as I that I can't let thisunfortunate lady go. Not now, she might remember me, or any of thisconversation. We can't have that. So, as a gesture of good faith, ofsupport, I'd like you to take care of this problem for me."
From behind, Joe felt his right arm captured andbrought forward. Keeping a harsh grip on his wrist, the man behindhim pressed the gun into his hands, and pointed it towardsSandra.
"Shoot her," the cold voice hissed from closebehind him. "Pull the trigger. Do it, Joe. She's already
It wasn't going to work, and in his condition hewas too weak to have a chance at overpowering even one of the twobodyguards.
"No."
Downy released a hissing sigh. It might haveworked& maybe next time. "You've disappointed me. I didwant
Roughly, Joe was shoved to the concrete floor.The man who had held him impassively replaced his gun in itsholster.
"Get this straight, you bastard. I will never,under any circumstances, work for you or your kind. My mother broughtme up better than that."
"Your mother will be next, Joe." The cold eyes bore down into his, as Downyuttered this threat.
Joe gave a mirthless laugh. "You obviously don'tknow my momma. If she ever found out that her boy was kissing yourass, she'd kill me herself, if that knowledge didn't drop her first.You can't hold me with that."
"Ah well, it's truly a pity. I think we wouldhave worked well together. Roger, Fergus, take care of this problem,please." The one called Roger was reaching for his own handgun, ashis boss turned and left the basement.
A bare flicker of movement was the only warningas the basement window shattered inwards. The rain of glass wasaccompanied by what sounded like the high grating roar of an enragedanimal.
Continued in Chapter 19