Inside he waited, with more a sense of anticipation than
of danger. The house, if the main hall and living room were
any sign, had an abandoned look. It was furnished well
enough, rather like a model home is furnished, without the detail that spoke of habitation. He saw wall spaces where
frames had recently hung, shelves with holes that lacked the symmetry of spaces that had been planned. All the contents of this house, Harrigan was sure, all the things that had been
left behind, would provide no useful clue to Marcus Son
nenberg.
Harrigan felt the flash of anger that was now familiar. Baker was near, all right. Well, what now, Jared Baker? Do
I walk through the rooms shouting your name? Or do I stand
here like a dummy until you and Sonnenberg decide to show
yourselves? Instead, if you don't mind, I think I'll take a lit
tle tour. Upstairs, for a start. Let's see if one of Sonnenberg's beasties comes leaping at me from an attic room like they do
in horror movies.
Sonnenberg's bedroom was the first he entered. Harrigan
flipped a light switch without effect. A burned-out bulb? He
tried a table lamp. No power. Then what do we suppose
made that scanner move?
The bedroom in its way was like the rooms below. The closets were full, the furniture all or mostly there, yet the
room was curiously lifeless. Harrigan stepped to a curtained window and looked down on a tangle of ancient rhododen
drons and to the golf course beyond the stockade fence. He
could see several golfers in groups of twos and threes, not
moving much. Harrigan noted the lack of activity but did not
dwell on it. His attention fell instead upon several dim im
pressions in the carpet at his feet. Three of them formed a
triangle. A three-legged table? A tripod? What for, Dr. Son
nenberg? What game did you play here?
The next room had the look of a guest room. No, a ser
vant's room. Two starched maid's outfits hung in the closet. And two nurse's uniforms of the same size. The right half of
the closet was empty. On the floor, a shoe rack built for six
pairs of shoes held only three, all on the left side. On the right side, his eye picked up something small and white
lying flush against the wall. A collar stay. Harrigan never re
alized women wore them.
There were five more rooms on the second floor as well
as a stairway leading to the attic. The attic could wait, he de
cided. Perhaps forever. There was probably no way to enter
it except head first, and to hell with that.
Of the remaining rooms, three were guest rooms, only
one of which gave much feeling of use. He scanned the con
tents of a small bookcase near the bed. Books on sailing
were among them. And a textbook on multiple personality.
Baker's old room, he thought, turning back into the hallway.
The last two rooms were a surprise. One was clearly a sick
room, the other a treatment room and pathology laboratory
worthy of a small-town clinic. ”A bloody hospital,” Harrigan whispered. He looked for instruments that would offer a clue to the kind of surgery that had been performed there. The in
struments had been taken.
Harrigan returned to the stairs and descended, not both
ering to be quiet this time. He peered into what he took to be Sonnenberg's study. More missing items and sparsely knick-
knacked shelves. Another flash of anger. Oh yes, Baker.
Why am I here, you're wondering, and where is Tina. She's
well and happy, Baker. Don't you see the picture in my mind
of Tina well and happy? If you'd like to know more than
that, I'm afraid you and Dr. Sonnenberg are going to have to show yourselves.
Harrigan passed through the dining room and into the
kitchen, where his eye fell upon a sliver of light coming
from beneath the basement door. Once more he descended,
his weapon leveled. He stopped at the sight of a white cabi
net swung three feet or so out from the wall.
“Put the silly thing away, Mr. Harrigan.” Sonnenberg's voice shocked him into a crouch. “And shame on you for strolling into so obvious a trap.”
The words seemed to come from just above his head. A
speaker, he realized at once. Also an alternative power
source. But where was Sonnenberg? The white cabinet opened farther and Jared Baker's face appeared, his eyes
cold and furious. Harrigan backed up a step.
“Easy lad.” He squinted. “You are Baker, aren't you?”
“Where is she, Harrigan?”
“I'm afraid they've taken her, lad. Tanner Burke too. But
I don't think they're in any danger.”
“Who, damnit? Who took them?”
“You might ask your friend the doctor.”
“Sonnenberg?” Baker snarled the question toward the speaker in the ceiling.
“Speaking of friends, Jared,” the voice answered, “it ap
pears your confidence in your two recent choices
is not
en
tirely well founded.”
“No games, Sonnenberg. Who took her?”
“Stanley Levy.” Harrigan directed his reply more to the
speaker than to Baker. ”A strange little man who gets
stranger by the hour. Can I assume you know that perfectly
well, Dr. Sonnenberg? An answer would be the polite thing.”
“Hmmmph.” Sonnenberg sniffed. ”I detect a certain smugness, Mr. Harrigan. Can I in turn assume that you've
experienced an epiphany of some sort?”
”I think so. More than one, in fact. For openers, I believe
I know who you used to be.”
”A modest achievement, Mr. Harrigan. Similar in useful
ness to finding a pair of socks I once wore.”
“Sonnenberg!” Baker shouted.
‘Tina is well and safe, Jared. So is the woman. I feel I can assure you of that.”
“You had her taken?”
“Not precisely, no,” Sonnenberg answered. There was a
vagueness to his voice, as if he were trying to remember
something. “Harrigan is quite right about Stanley Levy. But
Levy is Domenic Tortora's man, not mine. And I can prom
ise you Tortora would not act against my interests. Those in
terests do not embrace harm to Tina Baker. She's in
protective custody, Jared. She is quite safe.”
“Safe?” Baker raged. “How the hell can she be safe with the father of someone Abel tore apart last night?”
“Oh dear, yes. There is that.”
“Where is she, damnit?”
“Well now, that is a complication, Jared.” The concern in
Sonnenberg's voice sounded sincere, even to Harrigan.
More than concern, Harrigan thought he heard confusion. “He'll want to speak to you about that, of course. As will I when we have time to chat. But it cannot be now, Jared. I
must ask you to please trust me and believe that I would not let Tina be harmed. I've kept her from harm before under
similar circumstances. And we've met, you know. We be
came great friends when she was in the hospital. She called
me Grandpa. And my visits helped to ease her pain. They
did, Jared. Truly.”
Grandpa! Baker spat the word beneath his breath.
Grandpa! He should have known when Tina told him about her visitor. Baker balled both fists and squeezed them white
in an effort to control his fury and frustration. The bastard,
he thought. The bastard has been working on her head too.
Right from the beginning. By God, even if he lives to try it
he'll never get another chance. Tears streamed from Baker's
right eye. He shook them off.
“Charley, where is she?”
”i don't know”
Even Charley sounded worried.
“Sonnenberg must know. Listen to him”
“he doesn't let me listen, he fixed it that way. all i hear is
he's all mixed up. but i hear other men. we have to go,
baker.”
“We're not going anywhere until
—”
“it's the same men, baker, the same men are coming.”
“Jared, you must go.” Baker heard the rapid clicks of switches again. “Rats!” Sonnenberg growled. “It's too late.
Assorted golfers seem to be converging on the house. They also seem to have automatic weapons where their
golf umbrellas
ought to be.” There were two more clicks. “Rats
again! There are two more at the front gate.”
“baker.”
It was Abel.
“Not now.”
“they've come killing, baker, call me or leave.”
“Jared, I make you a promise. Save yourself now and I
will take you to Tina. You have my absolute guarantee of her
well-being.”
Harrigan checked his revolver. “Where the hell are we
supposed to go unless you got a tunnel down here?”
“In fact, quite so, Mr. Harrigan. There's a vent in that
room behind the air conditioner. It leads to a tunnel that
leads to a covered well. Use it when you must. In the mean
time, if you and Jared remain in this room and listen, you'll
be entertained by the comeuppance of Mr. Duncan Peck.
Take Jared, Mr. Harrigan, and retire now. You'll both find
this encounter to be most instructive.”
Baker hesitated. He knew he could do little except wait.
But not knowing about Tina and Tanner Burke
was more
than he could bear.
Sonnenberg understood. “Remember my promise, Jared.
Go inside. You'll know when it's prudent to leave.”
“I'll come looking for you, Doctor.
I’
m going to find
you.”
“Indeed, Jared, indeed. Sooner than you think. Go back
to the city, Jared, and wait. Go back to Central Park. Inter
esting things happen to you in Central Park.”
Tanner was somewhere in the East Eighties. She knew that
much. The neighborhood was German, judging by the
names of the stores and restaurants they passed. All the numbered side streets looked about the same, stunted trees
on most of them, a scattering of apartment buildings dating
from the twenties, and between them rows of brick town-houses and brownstones that were much older.
Stanley tapped her arm and pointed to one of them, a
brownstone painted red, its first floor occupied by one of
those antique shops that never seem to be open. “By the hy
drant,” he said. “Go ahead and park by the fire hydrant.”
As she shut off the ignition, Tanner noticed two young
men carrying tennis rackets walking briskly along in her di
rection. Stanley followed her line of sight. He touched his
ice pick once more to her ribs. She winced and looked away.
“You been good so far about not calling for help,” he told
her, his voice gentle, “and about not jumping out at some
stoplight. I don't know if I would have stuck you if you did,
but I would have stuck whoever came to help you, and then
I would have been all alone with the kid. You don't want
that, do you?”
Tanner shook her head.
“That's good because now you got another temptation.
We have to bring the kid upstairs holding her between us.
You get a chance to run again, but if you do I got no choice this time. I gotta hurt you. If I can't catch you, then I throw the kid back in the car and we drive someplace else, just her
and me. You don't want that either, do you?”
“I'll stay with her,” Tanner promised. She reached behind
her and stroked the cheek of Tina Baker, who sprawled un
conscious across the rear seat. Stanley took the ignition key
and opened his door to the sidewalk, then crossed to Tanner's
side and waited for her. With difficulty, they pulled Tina to
her feet and struggled up a narrow flight of stairs, holding
her erect between them.
The apartment had a musty smell of disuse. Yet Stanley
called a greeting as he entered, announcing cheerfully that
he was with friends. Tanner heard no reply, although Stan
ley smiled and nodded as if a welcome had been spoken
from another room. He motioned Tanner forward through the entry hall and a long, high-ceilinged living room into
what appeared to be the only bedroom. Its furnishings had a look that was old-fashioned before Tanner was born. An old
woman's bedroom. Antimacassars were draped over two embroidered chairs and held in place with pins. The head
board of the double bed was heavy mahogany and its design
matched that of a bureau and two end tables. A black-and-
white Dumont television, almost three decades old, rested
on one end table over a stack of magazines arranged on a
lower shelf. There was a copy of Soap Opera magazine, sev
eral
Reader's Digests,
and the yellow spine of a single
Na
tional Geographic.
On the bureau, backed by a tilting mirror
suspended by two heavy uprights, there was a silver meno
rah and two framed photographs of Stanley Levy, one per
haps five years older than the other. These sat on a runner of
yellowed Belgian lace along with a tarnished brush and mir
ror set and a small glass tray that held bottles of colored liq
uids. Three paintings hung on the walls, all pastoral scenes,
all in need of cleaning.