Their father, she gathered, had taken a turn for the worse.
“He can’t breathe,” Audrey kept saying. “He’s not breathing.”
“He’s breathing fine,” Pamela insisted. She alone was dressed, in her usual uniform of jeans and sweater and pearls. She did not look sleepy. “Rebecca, wait.” She had a hand on Audrey’s large shoulder, and now took Beck by the hand. “Wait. Listen. I’m sorry about before, but we have to work together now, okay?”
“What’s the matter?”
“He can’t breathe,” said Audrey again.
“He can breathe, but he’s coughing hard, and he can’t stop. He’s weak. He can’t stand up. I think it’s pneumonia. He should never have left the house.”
“Is there a doctor he uses?”
“Yes, but I think he needs the hospital.”
“Do something!” Jericho hollered from the bedroom. “Do something, you stupid bitches, or I’m fucking writing you out of my will!” A fit of coughing like an artillery barrage cut off the rest.
Pamela colored. “He’s also delusional.”
“I’m calling 911,” said Audrey, reaching for the phone.
“I’ll go sit with him,” said Beck.
“I’ll do it,” said Pamela, brushing her aside. “You stay here.”
“The phone doesn’t work,” said Audrey, putting the receiver down with a snap.
(iii)
Pamela took charge. Nobody elected her. Nobody had to. Crisis was her element. Taking charge was what she did best. “Take your cell phones to opposite corners of the house. See if you can get a signal, even a faint one. If it doesn’t work, switch corners. I’ll stay with him. Rebecca, take mine.” She lifted the house line and confirmed what Audrey had told them. No dial tone. No busy signal. No nothing.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Audrey.
“The storm,” Pamela said, although the storm had been over for hours.
Three minutes later, they all met on the landing. No signal. Through the open door, Jericho continued to rage.
“The computer,” said Pamela. “We can message somebody.”
Leaving Audrey with the patient, Pamela and Beck trooped to Jericho’s office, because the computer was connected to the cable modem.
Which was out.
The power was on, but the
DATA
and
SEND
lights were off.
“No connection,” said Pamela, unnecessarily. The wind shook the house. Outside the long windows, shadows chased shadows in the spilling floodlights. “We reboot the modem.”
“How?”
“Easiest way is to unplug it, plug it back in, and wait. If it’s a software problem, rebooting will fix it.”
But it wasn’t.
“There’s a satellite phone,” said Audrey, when they met once more on the landing. “It’s in the safe.”
The safe was in the wall behind the desk. Nobody had the combination, although Pamela’s glare said she thought somebody might be lying about that. Audrey reported that Jericho was unable to recall the numbers. “He said to leave him alone,” she added, flushing, and Beck wondered how colorfully he had said it.
“The panic button,” Pamela said.
Beck looked at her in puzzlement. Audrey explained.
“It’s part of the alarm system. There are three portable panic buttons. You press one, the alarm sounds—not here, but at—I don’t know—in Bangladesh or someplace. They call you, and if you can’t come up with the security code or you don’t answer the phone they call the police to check—”
“I get the idea,” said Beck. “Where are the buttons?”
Again the sisters looked at each other. Neither seemed to know. Audrey held out her hand. “A little plastic rectangle, about half the size of my palm.”
Beck said, “Jericho would have one in his room.”
Audrey went to check, while Beck and Pamela hunted through the study and the kitchen. The nun was back a moment later, carrying the device in her hand. The back was open. “No battery,” she said.
“There must be spares in the house,” said Beck, looking out at the grounds. The precipitation had ended. Wind swirled light eddies of snow across the lawn.
“It needs a special kind, like a watch.”
“There must be a master,” said Pamela. “Attached to the system itself.”
The panel was in the security room downstairs, beside the monitors. Multicolored buttons mocked them. Metal labels had been removed, presumably by the madman upstairs. There were no instructions. When Beck and Audrey hesitated, Pamela reached in and began punching buttons at random. Lights blinked on and off, but there was no way to tell whether anything else was happening.
“Maybe they got a signal,” she said, but doubted her own words.
Audrey had an idea. They set the alarm—that much they knew how to do—then went to the kitchen and pulled the back door ajar. This should have set off the alarm, but they did not hear the expected clanging, or even the reassuring double tone to tell them a door was open.
“You must have turned it off,” said Beck.
Pamela shook her head. “We just reset it. It should work.”
“Close the security mesh,” said Beck. “We know that sets off an alarm, right?”
Pamela pushed the button. The gates rattled down, but no klaxon sounded.
“Maybe it’s set on
SILENT
,” said Audrey, with tired optimism. “Maybe they’re on the way.”
Her sister’s gaze withered her. “Maybe pigs have wings,” she said.
“Leave her alone,” said Beck, when the nun’s mouth dropped open.
“We drive him,” said Pamela, relentless.
“Drive him where?”
“Hospital in Vail. Ninety minutes away. We’ll take Audrey’s van. He can lie down in the back.” Already on her feet, headed toward the door, because ideas were what gave her breath. “Let’s get moving.”
“Wait,” said Beck.
Pamela waited. Impatiently.
“All we have to do is go down the mountain eight or nine miles, and the cell phones should work.” Rebecca hesitated, uneasy about telling them her arrangement with Pete Mundy: that until she left town, he would be waiting within half an hour of the house. All she had to do was call. “We drive for ten minutes, we can call anybody we want.”
“That’s if you drive toward Bethel, not Vail.”
“Then let’s drive toward Bethel.”
“There’s no time. He needs a real hospital.”
“We can work it out on the road,” said Audrey. “Maybe we’ll pick up a signal along the way.”
“I’ll get the keys.”
Pamela opened the gates again, then suggested that Beck go for the van while Audrey prepped Jericho for travel. “I’ll go to the study and get the papers we might need. Health insurance or whatever.”
The nun smiled. “I’ll get the van. Beck can take care of Dad.”
“But—
“The van has so many problems, I don’t think anybody but me can drive it. And Dad’s prepped. I got him ready. All he needs is a coat and his shoes. Beck can do that.”
Rebecca spoke up. “I’m not sure anybody should go out there, Aud. Especially alone.”
Pamela ran an exhausted hand over her face. “Please don’t start that again.”
“We don’t have a choice,” said Audrey. “Either we get Dad to Vail, or he dies upstairs.”
“Then I’m going out there with you—”
“Thank you, but I travel with my own bodyguard.” Fingering the cross around her neck. “Now, please, honey. Let’s get him moving.”
Pamela, muttering to herself, was already heading for the stairs. Beck lingered, watching as Audrey crossed the foyer and slipped out of the house. Not a peep from the alarm system as she exited. Then she heard the reassuring
beep-beep-buzz:
Audrey had passed one of the proximity sensors. The system might not tell them if a door was opened, but at least they would have warning if anyone approached the house.
Rebecca shivered, hoping there was no danger, and hurried up to Jericho’s room.
(iv)
He was sitting in the chair, fully dressed, trying to put on his shoes.
“Let me help you,” said Beck, very surprised.
“About time you got here,” he said pleasantly. He stuck out a foot. He was wearing dark silk socks, and had selected a pair of alligator loafers. His slacks were a lovely fawn twill. He might have been preparing for dinner at the club. He did not look like a man who had taken a turn for the worse; or who, just a short while ago, had been screaming threats down the hall.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, manipulating his feet into the right position.
“Saint Audrey says I’m dying.”
“But how do you feel? What’s the big emergency?”
Jericho shrugged. His ear was cocked, but Beck could hear nothing.
“I feel great. I kept telling Saint Audrey, but she seems to think I’m going to collapse at any moment—”
He broke off. His eyes widened and his cheeks grew splotchy. His hands went to his neck, and he began to make choking sounds. Beck was paralyzed. Did he need the Heimlich maneuver? The oxygen? Or was this a symptom of something else?
Unsure what else to do as he went on hacking, she grabbed the oxygen tank, wheeled it to the chair, pulled the mask over his face, opened the cock.
He calmed down.
“Well, maybe I am,” he said, voice now wet and creaky. He settled back in the chair. “Going to collapse at any moment.” Another coughing bout, evidently because he was trying to laugh. “She told me not to get up. Saint Audrey. She told me to wait. I wanted to help.”
“It’s okay, Jer-Bear.”
He coughed, and tugged at the tube. “I hate this thing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll get your coat.”
“I don’t need a coat.”
“It’s cold out there.”
“Oh, I see. The coat’s so I won’t get sick. Good idea.”
Working his arms into the sleeves while he sat in a chair breathing through a mask was tricky, but she got it done. She decided to take a long chance. “Jericho?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I want to ask you something. About my conversation with Dak the other night.”
A chuckle. “I remember. He’s leaving us. Before the roof caves in. Very wise.” Cough. “Seems to me I told you to do the same.”
She smiled and kissed his clammy forehead. “I’m leaving, too. With you. We’re going to Vail.”
“Fat chance.” The golden eyes moved. “Dak was my protection. Without Dak, anything can happen.”
His fantasy had reversed. “I thought you said Dak was trying to kill you.”
“I never said that.” He shrugged, and coughed again. “Look. You should leave me here.
You
should go to Vail.”
“I am going. I’m just not planning to leave you behind.”
“Silly girl.” He said it sweetly.
She heard Pamela calling from downstairs. She helped him to his feet. “Jericho?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Who’s Max?”
“Who?”
“I overheard Dak on his cell phone. Somebody called him to say Max was coming. He seemed upset.”
He reached up and pulled the mask away. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” She saw his face. “What is it, Jericho? Who’s Max?”
“If Max is coming, you’d better get moving.”
But this time she would not allow herself to be played. She took him by the shoulders. “Tell me.”
The eyes lost their humor. Maybe it was never there to begin with. His voice, when he spoke, was as dry as a weather report. “Max is retired. Used to be a killer. A contract killer.” A sad grin. “Pretty good at it, too, so they tell me.”
A chill passed through the room. “Are you saying—”
“Quit.” He shook his head. “They all quit sooner or later. Except the ones who go nuts. Nobody can do that kind of work for too long without—” Another fit of coughing doubled him over. She hugged him and patted his back. He breathed the oxygen for a while, then pulled the mask off again. “Max worked for Dak. I bet he didn’t tell you that part, did he? Dak knows Max. If Max is coming, it’s probably at Dak’s invitation.”
Her head was whirling. “No. He was surprised. I heard it in his voice.”
“You heard what he wanted you to hear, Beck. Dak is no fool. He knew you’d run and tell me that Max is coming. The idea was to scare me. And you know what? It worked. I’m scared.”
Beck balled her fists. “Then let’s tell them. We can tell them what they want to know. Where you hid…whatever you hid.”
Jericho shook his head. “That would be wrong. Some terrible people did some terrible things. They shouldn’t get away with it.” He coughed. “Of course, if they’ve brought in Max, I would assume they disagree.”
“But how—how will we recognize—”
“Nobody ever recognizes Max. The trouble comes if Max recognizes you.”
“You were Director of Central Intelligence. You must know what Max looks like!”
His answer was curiously bureaucratic. “Now, that would hardly be fitting, would it? A man in my position could never have actual knowledge of matters at that level. The principle is deniability” The golden eyes grew kindly. “But I wouldn’t worry, my dear. Max and Saint Audrey were pretty close in the old days, so I’m told, and I’m quite sure—”
The explosion drowned the rest.
Beck raced to the window.
Out in the forecourt, the van was in flames.
And on her hip, the cell phone was vibrating.
CHAPTER 31
The Crisis
(i)
Every crisis is the same, although later we pretend that every crisis is different. A crisis begins unexpectedly threatens that which we value, and intensifies faster than the rational faculty can follow. A crisis is like a clever computer virus: when we believe we have guarded against its worst capabilities, it strikes off in an entirely different direction, forcing a mobilization of all we possess, in defense of all we love.
Sometimes the crisis wins.
Beck could not help herself. She left Jericho in the master suite and raced outside, Pamela at her heels, neither one capable, for the moment, of worrying about personal safety. They tried to get to the van, but the heat was too intense. Pamela kept lurching forward, screaming her sister’s name, her face a mask of sweat and tears. Rebecca had to hold her back. The nun’s body was there, in the flames, the broad shoulders perfectly recognizable, wrecking Beck’s last hope— that, through some miracle, Audrey’s bodyguard had kept her away from the wheel.
“We have to go back inside,” said Beck, mouth close to Pamela’s ear.