Hell's Horizon (5 page)

“Your mother knew,” The Cardinal said. “I informed her personally, as I did in those days, before I started delegating. A hard, cold woman, if you’ll allow me to say so. Kept her emotions to herself. Refused my offer of financial assistance. Wouldn’t even let me pay for a decent burial.”

“Where
was
he buried?” I asked, head spinning.

“He wasn’t.”

“Then where…?” I winced. “The Fridge.”

“He was one of the first occupants. You can retrieve the body if you wish to lay it to rest. I only held on to it because your mother showed no interest.”

“After all these years, what would be the point?”

The Cardinal smiled. “My thoughts exactly.” He beckoned me over to the window. “See those cranes off to the right?” I pressed against the glass and searched the horizon until I found the cranes in question. “That’s where they’re building the Manco Capac statue.”

“The what?”

“Manco Capac was an Incan god. After hundreds of years, somebody’s decided to raise an effigy of him. It’s going to be one of the most incredible monuments ever constructed. It will put this city on the architectural map. You must have heard about it—reporters have been discussing little else since it was commissioned.”

“I don’t pay much attention to the news.”

“No matter. I only pointed it out to show what a
real
mark of respect for the dead is like. Sticking people in the ground or running them through a furnace… I’d rather be jammed away in a dark corner of the Fridge or left outside to rot.

“Come,” he said. “This conversation is veering toward morbidity. Tom Jeery has been dead far too long to shed any tears over. Let’s return to the corpse in question—Miss Hornyak. I don’t like it when people use my facilities for their own ends. Her murderer made a fatal mistake when choosing the Skylight.”

He returned to his chair and picked up the file he’d been studying earlier. I took my seat again and concentrated on what he was saying. I’d think about my father later, on my own time.

“Any idea who killed her?” he asked.

“No.”

“No enemies? Jealous ex-boyfriends? Business rivals?”

“She wasn’t in business. She comes—came—from a wealthy family. Lived off inherited income. No enemies that I was aware of. Old boyfriends…” I shrugged. “She was beautiful. Rich. Exciting. Something of a tease. I guess there’s lots of disgruntled exes hanging around, but none that I’m aware of.”

“How did you meet? Miss Hornyak was a woman of means. Elegant. Sought after. You’re not what I would consider a catch.”

“We met at AA.”

“She was an alcoholic?”

“Not really. She didn’t talk much about it, but from what I picked up, her brother controlled the purse strings—her parents died when she was young, which was one of the things we had in common—and he felt she’d been drinking too heavily. He made her go. Threatened to cut her off if she didn’t.”

“So you got talking, one thing led to another, you realized you were two of a kind…”

“I wouldn’t say that. Nic was in a different class. I knew nothing would come of our fling. We just fell into each other’s lives for a while. It was a complication-free relationship—my favorite kind.”

“Did you tell her what you did for a living?”

“Sure.”

“Before you started dating or after?”

I thought back. “Before, I guess.”

“You told her you were a Troop?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Ever consider the possibility that she was after more than sex?”

“I don’t follow.”

He tossed a large photograph across the table. It was of Nic’s carved back. There was a lot of blood, so it must have been taken in the Skylight or just after she’d been delivered to the Fridge. I didn’t touch it.

“Not very pretty,” The Cardinal said. “You noted the design in the center?” I nodded. He fished something out of the file and threw it on top of the photograph. It was a golden brooch. I’d seen it on Nic a couple of times. At its center was a symbol of the sun.

“Recognize it?”

“Yes.”

“She was wearing it the night of her murder. I don’t think it’s coincidence. Nicola Hornyak moved in dangerous circles. She became involved with men of violence. Perhaps she anticipated an attack of this nature. If so, would she not have sought protection? Found a strong boyfriend adept in the ways of death? A solider maybe… or a Troop?”

“She never mentioned any of this to me. We spent very little time together. It’s possible…” But I wasn’t convinced.

“I want to know who killed her,” The Cardinal said.

“I do too,” I breathed softly.

“Excellent!” he boomed, startling me. “That’s what I hoped to hear. When can you start?”

“Start what?” I asked.

“The investigation. I want you to track down her killer. Find him, kill him, bring me his bones to pick my teeth with.”

“But I’m not a detective.”

“You are now,” he grinned, eyes twinkling, “
shamus
.”

I spent twenty minutes trying to convince him I was the wrong man for the job.

“I know nothing about that line of work,” I insisted. “I’ve been trained as a guard, to function as part of a unit. I know about lines of fire and body searches, how to spot trouble and deal with it. I don’t know shit about trailing people, planting bugs or research.”

“That’s irrelevant,” The Cardinal said. “I’ve had experts on the case since Saturday and they’ve uncovered nothing. You know the time frame for catching a murderer in circumstances such as these? Seventy-two hours. Three days to extrapolate from clues, interview witnesses and crack suspects. If you’ve turned up nothing by then, chances are you never will. That’s what my experts tell me.”

“Then why set
me
on it? If the case is dead, what’s the point?”

“A case never dies, Al. People die. Empires die. Never mysteries. I want to find Nicola Hornyak’s killer. It’s not a major thorn in my side but it irritates me. The experts had their crack at it. Now it’s time to do things another way.

“Do you know what Frank Weld did before starting work for me?”

“He was in the army.”

“No. That’s a misleading rumor I circulated. He executed pigs.”

I couldn’t prevent a skeptical smile.

“I’m not bullshitting you. He worked in an abattoir. Put a stun gun to their heads and fried their brains. Lost his job when he was found
interfering
with the livestock.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” I laughed.

“All right,” The Cardinal smirked. “That last bit was a joke. But he did work in an abattoir. Before that he worked in a fish factory. Before that he was a bouncer in a club. Before that he served nine years for killing a man in a brawl over a prostitute.”

“Is this on the level?” I asked, sobering up.

He nodded. “Not the stuff generals are generally made of, wouldn’t you say?”

“So how’d he end up head of the Troops?” It was the question he’d been angling for.

“You’re aware of my nocturnal informants?”

“Sure.”

The Cardinal had a personal herd of gossipmongers. They came every night from various sectors of the city, men and women with secrets to impart. What they told him and what he did with that information, only he could say.

“Mr. Weld was one of them. He told me he’d caught his boss in the clutches of a young migrant worker. A juicy piece of trivia I’d normally have filed away and left to simmer. But there was something about Mr. Weld. Behind the shabby clothes, unkempt hair and bloodstained hands I saw a man of means struggling to emerge. So I took him into the fold, set my best groomers on him, and within months he was up and running.

“I work on hunches. I place little faith in systems or rules. I build on people. It’s why I’ve flourished while so many others have fallen. The ability to see inside a man, to know what he’s capable of, even if he doesn’t know it himself… therein lies my secret.

“Do you know what true power is? It’s the ability to manipulate other people and bend them to your way of thinking. To do that, you must first understand them. I understand people. I understand
you
. You don’t seek responsibility because you know what you could do with it. You’re afraid of who you could be. You don’t mind getting your hands dirty as long as you’re not making the decisions, because you believe that leaves your soul clean of blemish.”

He paused a moment, allowing me time to challenge him. Shaking my head and lowering my gaze, I didn’t.

“I’ve let you ride along anonymously. I haven’t pushed you or strewn obstacles in your path or pleaded with you to get off your lazy ass and disturb the world. I’m not usually so lenient but I figured it would be better to let you grow a pair of balls in your own good time.

“You didn’t, and events have conspired against you, so time’s up. The days of blind obedience and moral
carte blanche
have come to an end. You have to show your true colors now. Put that brain of yours in gear. Contribute more than just footwork. If you can’t or won’t, I want nothing more to do with you. Take this case and prove yourself, or start looking for alternative employment.

“You have two minutes to decide.”

Not wishing to appear a pushover, I spent ninety seconds pretending to struggle with my options, but in truth there was never a choice. To defy The Cardinal would have been suicide.

“OK,” I sighed. “Tell me what you want me to do.” Grinning, he leaned forward to explain, and the impression I had was of a vulture swooping in to feast on a kill.

5

I
‘d switched my cell phone off while in conference with The Cardinal. As I changed clothes in the basement, I turned it back on. It rang before I made the door.

“Al? This is Bill. I’ve got some bad—”

“I know,” I interrupted.

“You do?” He sounded relieved.

“Can I ring you later, Bill? I’m kind of—”

“Sure. Whenever you want. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks.”

I cycled home with The Cardinal’s file under one arm, coming to terms with all that had happened. Finding Nic… meeting The Cardinal… learning of my father’s death… a forced career change.

He’d put all my other duties on hold. I was an independent agent now. Free to operate as I pleased. Answerable to no one bar himself. I was to request assistance if I needed it. Frank, Tasso, the Troops, his lawyers—all would be made available should I ask.

But where to start?

I hurried up the stairs, let myself in, switched on the lights and opened the file. If I was lucky, The Cardinal’s
experts
would have made my beginning for me, and I could simply follow their directions, tidy up after them, make a few inquiries, chase a few red herrings, declare my investigation a failure and get back to where I belonged. If I worked quickly it might be over by the weekend.

It didn’t take me long to realize that wasn’t in the cards.

The file was mind-boggling. Sheet after sheet of facts—where Nic went to school, her grades, her sources of income, friends, associates, names of those who’d made deliveries to her home, a seemingly complete list of shops she’d favored with her custom, clubs she’d frequented, vacations she’d enjoyed.

After an hour of scanning doggedly through the statistics, I threw the file away, stripped and had a shower. Turned it up hot, then down cold. Came out shivering but sharp. Dried myself, wrapped a towel around my middle and returned to the discarded papers.

A few minutes later I closed the file and laid it aside. The only way to approach something like this was with a purpose. What did I want? What did I
need
?

Drawing up a sheet of paper, I jotted down a few thoughts.

The names of those closest to her would be essential. I knew she had a brother but what about other relatives? Maybe someone stood to gain financially from her death.

Old boyfriends. Could be a jealous ex-lover among them.

Her sun brooch and the carving on her back. I’d have to check on those. Find out where she got the brooch. Go through the list of organizations she was a member of—perhaps one of them boasted a sun symbol for an insignia.

What else…?

The night in question. Last Friday. I’d have to know where she’d been, whom she’d been with, what she’d been doing. That would be the best place to start—I might pick up a name or two that would make my other inquiries less complicated.

Laying down my pen, I turned aside from Nic for a while to ponder the death of my father. I wasn’t sure what I should feel. Even though I hadn’t known Nic very well, I knew more about her than about Tom Jeery. He’d been a vague figure in my life, hardly ever home when I was a child, turning up out of the blue every so often, disturbing my mother, disrupting our daily routine. I had very few clear memories of him. A couple of trips to the movies. An afternoon spent together in a park. Playing soccer on the road behind my house. I’d always thought he was a salesman, never felt close to him, never thought we had anything in common. And now…

Now I’d learned we were both in the pay of the same master, that years before I made any move to join the ranks of The Cardinal, he’d been there, testing the waters, preparing the way. I felt cheated. Many of my childhood friends had turned to criminal pursuits, but I was the only one from the old neighborhood to serve with the Troops. I’d thought I was something hot when Ford Tasso singled me out for special treatment. Now I realized he’d only done it because of my father. That bugged the hell out of me.

I’d have to think on it some more one day. Make inquiries, find out what sort of a man he’d been, what kind of impact I should allow his death to have on me. But not now. I’d deal with Nic first and get The Cardinal off my back. Playing detective was going to take up a lot of my time. I couldn’t afford distractions.

I passed a couple more hours scouring the file, digging out names and relevant details. There was more to Nic Hornyak than I’d imagined. I’d never pegged her for a virgin, but according to these reports she’d been with everything on two legs in the city. If I had to search among the ranks of ex-lovers for her killer, it would be a long, arduous task.

I’d had enough for one night, so I laid the file aside and prepared for bed. I’d go over it thoroughly in the morning. Hopefully sleep would clear my head and I’d be able to think directly.

It was while I was brushing my teeth that it hit me.

I wiped around my mouth and returned to the file. Picking it up, I leafed through, counting pages. Forty-three, excluding photos, of which there were plenty.

I checked some of the entries. Many of the sheets were photocopies with dates going back to Tuesday, Monday, Sunday. Interviews had been conducted with friends and relations. A lot of man-hours had gone into this. The investigation seemed to have been launched early Saturday.

But Vincent hadn’t known the corpse’s identity. Nor had Dr. Sines. The official line was, nobody did. She’d died a Jane Doe and lain in the Fridge, unidentified, until I turned up.

So how the hell had this dossier been compiled?

Frank wanted to see me the next morning, so I made Party Central my first port of call. He was in his office, catching up on a frightening tower of paperwork. He signed his name to stray pieces of paper while we talked.

“Heard about your promotion,” he grunted. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“The Cardinal’s told me I’m to put myself at your beck and call.”

“Yeah?” I grinned. “Like a personal assistant?”

“Fuck you.”

I laughed and handed him a stack of papers.

“Any idea what it’s all about?” I asked. “Why he picked me and what he expects?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“He did and he didn’t. Said I should be setting my sights higher. Told me I was wasting my time where I was. I get the impression this is a test of some sort but I haven’t a clue what I’ll win if I pass.”

“The Cardinal’s a queer fish,” Frank said. “Sometimes he seems to do shit just for the fun of it. And maybe he does. Many think so. But I beg to differ. I don’t think he spits without evaluating every angle.”

“How should I proceed?” I asked.

“Why ask me? I’m no detective.”

“But you’ve had dealings with them. You know more about it than me. Do I need cameras, recorders, bugs? Approaching people—do I pretend I’m a real detective? What about the cops? And how do I recognize a clue from a lump of dog shit?”

Frank laughed and pointed at the space above the door behind my head. I turned and looked up. A sign hung there.
when in doubt, decide
!

“Ford Tasso said that to me the day I started. When life got me down, I had one of the girls print it up. I glance at it twenty times a day, more if I have to.”

“If I’d wanted dry old proverbs I’d have bought a fortune cookie.”

Frank shrugged. “You asked for my advice—that’s it. There’s a thousand ways you could investigate. Sitting around thinking won’t get you anywhere. Nor will doing things the ordinary way—The Cardinal doesn’t want that. When I started, I made some lousy calls, but they were
my
decisions. The Cardinal respected that and left me to work things out. You’ve gotta do the same. Go out on a limb and hope you don’t fail.”

“I was looking for more practical advice,” I grumbled.

“Then look elsewhere,” Frank told me, and that was the end of our discussion.

I met Bill next, in a bar close to Party Central. We ordered sandwiches and sat in a quiet corner, away from the crowd, discussing Nic and what had happened.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Pretty well, considering.”

“I damn near fainted when Kett told me. We were joking about her Friday, on the way up, remember?”

“You said if the fish didn’t bite, we should invite her up and tell her to bring a friend.”

“I’m sorry, Al.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t know her. I barely knew her myself.” I took a bite out of the sandwich—the bread was stale—and chewed mechanically. “Who told Kett about her?”

“He won’t say. All I know is, he got a call at home, Thursday. Somebody told him there’d been a murder at the Skylight and the body had been removed. Gave him the room number, date and time, a description of the victim.”

“Her name too?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea who the caller might have been?”

“If it had been any other hotel, I’d have said a maid or bellboy. But employees are more tight-lipped at the Skylight. My guess is it was another guest, somebody with a conscience. Or it could have been the killer.”

“You reckon?”

“The symbol gouged into her back—he didn’t do that for fun. When someone goes to that much trouble, he’s looking to be noticed. He might have wanted the case dragged through the media. Maybe he’s planning to strike again and wants to be recognized when he does.”

“A serial killer?”

“Possibly. But from what I’ve gathered it was a clumsy kill. Slow and messy. So we’ve either got a beginner on our hands or somebody who wants us to
think
he’s a beginner.”

“Any clues?” I asked. “Any leads?”

“Not by the time
we
arrived, but the better part of a week had passed before we were called onto the scene. Whoever brought her back might as well have dropped her off at the station.”

I hadn’t told Bill that I’d collected Nic’s body from the Fridge. Didn’t intend to. Those were the kinds of details you learned to withhold from friends. Nor did I plan to tell him about my meeting with The Cardinal.

“What are your chances of catching him?” I asked.

“Slim to none. If we’d been informed as soon as she was discovered…” He sighed. “The pathologist will do his best, but I doubt he’ll discover anything useful. We’ve questioned the staff—nothing. There’s a few to go but we won’t get anything out of them. Unless he strikes again or Kett receives another phone call…
nada
.”

I nodded slowly. I’d figured as much.

“What about a private investigation? Any point?”

“You could hire someone,” Bill said. “Costly. Probably wouldn’t achieve anything. But it couldn’t do any harm.”

“What if
I
was to investigate?”

He frowned. “Don’t be crazy. What do you know about detective work? It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

“I know. But how would I go about it?”

He studied me silently for all of a minute.

“You’re not asking my opinion, are you, Al? You’re committed to this already. Right?”

“Right.”

“Jesus.” He pushed the remains of his sandwich away. “How far are you into this?”

“I’ve got some names. Background information.”

“Any angles?”

“I was hoping you’d provide me with a few. Old enemies, a family feud—something like that.”

He smiled wryly. “I told you, it’s not like in the movies. Motives and deaths of this nature rarely go together. Nic checked in under a transparent pseudonym—Jane Dowe. Why do people normally give false names in hotels?”

“Because they’re there to fuck?”

“Crude but precise. Chances are she picked up a guy, took him back to the Skylight, he turned psycho, end of story.”

“Did anybody see the two of them together?”

“The receptionist remembers Nic but insists there was no one with her in the lobby. The room to the right of hers was unoccupied. The old couple in the room to the left went to bed early and slept the night through.”

“If I investigate,” I said slowly, “where should I start?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked old and tired in the dim light. Bill had been talking about taking early retirement for a couple of years—looking at him now, I began to think maybe he should pack it in, before the job made a premature end of him.

“You might glean something from the staff at the Skylight,” he said reluctantly. “They weren’t anxious to talk to us. Given your connections, there’s a chance they’d be more open, assuming they know anything. But leave it for a couple of days. You don’t want to run into Kett. Let us complete our investigation and move on before you poke your nose in.”

The previous detectives had already interviewed the staff and come up blank, but I’d have a crack myself, as Bill suggested, though I wasn’t sure I could wait until the dust settled.

“What about friends and family?” I asked. “Anybody suspicious?”