Airtight (22 page)

“I left to follow Gallagher, and he went to the place he died from there.”

“What was he doing there, do you know?” She was trying to get as much information as she could for Lucas; he might have a view of the big picture in a way that whatever Lou saw could be helpful. She doubted it, but had nothing else to hold on to.

“Just walking around, looking at some of the drilling equipment, checking out the dirt, or something. I couldn’t tell, really. He spent some time talking to a woman there, the one who was on TV. Then he went to his car and that was it. The explosion took out a bunch of cars around him.”

Julie pumped Lou for additional information, but he didn’t have anything more of value to offer, and in fact wasn’t yet aware that Rhodes was also murdered nearby. And the truth was, she doubted that what he did say could help Bryan in any way.

Gallagher’s only value to her was his knowledge of where Bryan was. At the moment, she couldn’t care less if he had solved the Brennan murder, or the violence in Brayton, or the Lindbergh kidnapping. He was the only one who had known where Bryan was, and that knowledge had died with him.

And now she had to tell Luke.

We had two chances to find Bryan, and then suddenly we had one.

What Julie had to tell me was even more devastating than that simple math makes it appear, because Gallagher represented by far the greater of the two opportunities. What we were doing in searching for shelters was a long shot at best.

Weird as it may sound, hearing about Gallagher’s death made me realize for the first time that Bryan might die as well. Of course I had known that intellectually for quite a while, but I was so wrapped up in the “hunt” that I kept the truth about Bryan’s situation tucked in the back of my mind.

Now it was front and center, and it made me so scared that I felt nauseous.

“How bad is it?” Julie asked.

I wasn’t going to lie to her. “It’s very bad,” I said. “And it’s my fault.”

“How is that?”

“I should have started this search days ago. Instead I focused too much on Brayton, and on convincing Gallagher to let Bryan go. I thought that was our only real shot, so that’s where I spent my time.”

“It was the logical thing to do,” she said.

“No, the logical thing when you have a kidnapping is to look for the victim. I was too intent on convincing Gallagher, and not spooking him.”

“Are you going to tell Bryan?”

“I don’t know,” I said, because I didn’t. “I’ve been getting his hopes up, because mine were up, and because I don’t want him taking those pills. I’m afraid if I tell him what happened he might panic and take them. What do you think?”

“I think we need to keep him alive until we can’t keep him alive any longer,” she said. “Hold off on telling him.”

“OK. For now.”

“You want to hear the rest of what Lou said, about Gallagher going to see Carlton, and then going to the site of the drilling?”

“Will it help us for me to hear it?” I asked.

“Probably not, but you never know.”

She told me the rest of it, and I filed it away to use after Bryan’s rescue.

“I’m coming out there,” she said. “I want to help search.”

“OK. I don’t blame you.”

I told her where I was staying, and that I’d book a room for her. Unfortunately, I only would need to book it for one night, because that’s all we had left.

The media was not yet reporting that Chris Gallagher was the person killed in the blast. Based on what Julie had said, it was unlikely that the body had been ID’d yet or, for that matter, even recovered remotely intact.

If there was enough left of the car they could probably trace it to Gallagher in that way, especially if it was owned or rented by him. If it was borrowed, it would take that much longer. Trying to recover and test DNA would take longer still.

I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what the hell Gallagher was doing at Carlton’s house, or the disputed land after that. But that was for another day.

Soon Julie would be here, and together we would find Bryan.

Or we wouldn’t, and then nothing would ever be the same.

Lucas … it’s great that you seem so optimistic. I trust that you’re telling me the truth.

This afternoon there was no news on, so I watched a movie. It was called
The King’s Speech
; I doubt that you saw it because it had no explosions or nudity. It was a true story about a relationship between two men, a Royal Prince and the therapist who helped him cure his lifelong stammer.

The Prince had a brother, who became King and then left the throne for a woman, making the stammering Prince the new King. Though they were brothers, they had no relationship at all, or at least not one worth having.

Maybe facing death is making me sentimental, but it told me that family is not enough, friendship is more important. So if I get out of this, I want to be friends, not just brothers.

And if I don’t make it, I want you to know that I forgive you for what you have done, and I forgive Julie as well.

But get me the hell out of here.

Julie arrived ninety minutes later.

She met us in the hotel restaurant, where Emmit and I took her through the progress we had made, and where things stood. As updates go, it wasn’t a pleasant one, because we were not getting anywhere.

Of course, in the kind of operation we were conducting you’re always getting nowhere, unless and until you have one hundred percent success. We’d certainly eliminated possibilities; officers had filed reports indicating that they had already checked out seventy-one confirmed bomb shelters.

In four of those instances, they were refused admittance until they threatened to bring the owners to the station and make their lives miserable. Failing that, the officers would have gotten search warrants, but it was unnecessary, because in each case there was ultimate compliance.

It was getting late, and we all decided to get four hours’ sleep and meet very early in the morning. There was nothing we could do anymore that night, and we needed to be refreshed for the next day. Left unspoken was what we all knew: it was Bryan’s last day.

Emmit went upstairs first, leaving Julie and me. We ordered a drink, just one because of that need to be completely alert the next day. It also might help us sleep, although at that point I didn’t think a sledgehammer to the head could put me out.

“Have you told Bryan about what happened to Gallagher?” she asked.

“No. Not yet.”

She nodded. “Good. Please give it a little time. We’re going to get it done tomorrow.”

I had strong doubts we would, but saw no need to mention it at that point.

Sitting with her right then was weird but not awkward, if that makes any sense. It was weird because of the awful situation we were facing, and because we were two people who had been in love with each other for six years.

After that one night, we never talked about it or our feelings for each other, and we definitely weren’t about to now. But it hung out there over the table like a fairly large-sized watermelon.

Since we couldn’t talk about that and we certainly didn’t want to discuss Bryan’s plight anymore, Julie asked me, “So, at the end of the day, did Steven Gallagher kill Danny Brennan?”

“No way. We can add that to the list of things I’ll have to live with.”

“He raised the gun, Luke. He was going to shoot either himself, or you. The fact that he didn’t kill Brennan didn’t make him less dangerous.”

“Yeah,” I said, with as little enthusiasm as I was feeling. “Did you see
The King’s Speech
?”

“Yes. Great movie.”

“Bryan saw it the other night; he assumed I hadn’t seen it, because it seemed too upscale for my taste.”

She laughed and said, “I would assume the same thing.”

At least I think that’s what she said. I was focusing on the fact that when she said it she put her hand on my arm. It was like a jolt of electricity; she could have been reciting the Gettysburg Address and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Finally I said, “I saw it the night it came out.”

“Then you had a date that chose the movie.”

She had removed her hand, so I was hearing clearly again. “Guilty as charged, counselor. Anyway, Bryan wrote about the relationships that the brothers had, and compared it to the relationship between the Prince and the speech therapist. It showed him that family isn’t enough; you need to work at being friends.”

She nodded as if she understood; I guess when you live with someone for six years you get a good idea how they view things.

“Funny thing is, that’s not what struck me about it at all,” I said. “It got me thinking about how we’re all programmed from an early age to be what we’re going to be. Not because of any royal line of succession like those guys, but by our parents, or our intelligence, or whatever. For a lot of reasons, Bryan was going to be in business and I was going to be a cop.”

“I think you both wound up in the right place.”

We both realized at the same time the place Bryan was in at the moment, which put an end to the discussion.

“Let’s go,” I said. I paid the check, and we went upstairs. We walked down the hall to Julie’s room; mine was just a few doors past it. When we got to her door, I wanted to go in with her. I’m less in need of comforting than anyone I’ve ever met, but at that moment we both needed it, and we were uniquely in a position to provide it for each other.

“Good night,” I said.

She kissed me lightly on the cheek. “Good night, Luke. Tomorrow is going to be a great day.”

“Yes, it is,” I said.

She closed the door, and I walked the rest of the way to my room. It seemed like about four miles.

Hang in there, Brother. Big day tomorrow. Julie came up because she wants to be there when you get out; I hope that’s OK.

More tomorrow.

I was right about having trouble sleeping.

I lay there for a while, trying to ready myself for what we were facing, and trying to quell the fear.

I think I fell asleep, in fits and starts, and the only reason I say that is because I was having a dream. I don’t remember that much of it now, but Bryan was the King of England, or at least King of something, and I was sort of a dope in the castle who nobody paid any attention to. It was the Paterson, New Jersey, version of
The King’s Speech.

I had the dream a little after five in the morning, and the reason I know that is because that’s what time it was when I jumped up like someone shoved a hot poker up my ass.

I grabbed the phone and called Julie and Emmit. “Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes,” I said to each of them. They both asked what was going on, and I just repeated, “Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

I was down there in twelve, and Julie was already waiting for me. Emmit was there a few seconds later. There was coffee in the lobby, and we each grabbed a cup and sat down.

“Bryan e-mailed me that he watched
The King’s Speech,”
I said. “He’s had television service throughout.”

They didn’t say anything, probably hoping that I was going to offer more than this old news.

I was.

“I read an article a while back, I think it had to do with targeting advertisements to people, but the point of it was that the satellite and cable companies know what you are watching. They keep records of it; they even know what people record.”

“I think I read that,” Emmit said.

I could see excitement building in Julie’s eyes, but it was tempered. “But you know how many people watched
The King’s Speech
that night?”

“That’s the first thing I thought about,” I said. “There’s no way we’d be able to narrow it down in time. But it doesn’t matter what Bryan watched; what matters is what he’s going to watch.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You have a friend at the satellite company, right? The guy you got the weather outage info from.”

“He was helpful; I wouldn’t call him a friend.”

“Either he’s going to be your friend today or I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands.

“Let’s find out where he is and get him up and in his office,” I said to Emmit. “And get a court order just in case.”

“I’m lost,” Emmit said. “What are we asking this guy to do?”

“I’m going to e-mail Bryan and tell him what to watch. We’ll do it in a way that stands out. Then we’ll get this satellite guy to sit at his computer and find out where the house with that watching pattern is.”

Julie opened her purse and took out a notebook. She turned a few pages, and said, “His name is Daniel Robbins. I think his office is in Morristown.”

Emmit stood up, said, “I’ll make the calls from the room phone,” and walked away, his large frame moving faster than I thought it could walk and showing no ill effects of the shooting. If I were Daniel Robbins, I would do whatever Emmit asked.

“This had better work,” I said.

“I think it can,” Julie said. “They should have the technology to pull it off.”

I didn’t take too much comfort in what she said, since she had as little knowledge of technology as I did, which is to say she had none. For the moment there was nothing to do but e-mail Bryan and wait for Emmit.

Ten minutes later my phone rang. I took a quick look and saw that it was a number I didn’t recognize, so I figured it was Emmit calling from upstairs. “Emmit?”

“Lieutenant Somers, this is Alex Hutchinson,” the caller said, in a female voice that sounded nothing like Emmit’s.

It took me a moment to place the name, and when I did I said, “Alex, yes … I—”

She interrupted me. “You said I should call you if I knew something important, and I know it’s early, but—”

I returned the interruption. “I’m sorry, Alex, I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back at this number?”