“What are you so worried about, Blake?” Cooper asked. “She’s dead.”
“You don’t mess around with a man like that. He’s gonna be the President one day.”
“I wish him the best,” Cooper said.
Throughout this conversation, Cooper continued his work on the treadmill. He could tell Blake was genuinely worried. He enjoyed seeing Blake squirm. At that moment, Cooper heard his name being called over the loudspeaker. He shut down the treadmill abruptly and started for the corridor, noting that Blake’s eyes were following him.
“Cooper?” Prentiss said on the other end of the line.
“Any news on Laura?”
“Nothing on that. But I do have a make on that car,” Prentiss said. “Belongs to a man named Carlton Stokes, a doctor.”
Carlton!
He shook his head. Fate was determined to get Susan Haber into this mess.
“That strike a chord?” Prentiss asked. Cooper was thankful that she could not see his face.
Cooper deliberately let the moment pass.
“No. Maybe I got the numbers mixed up.”
“Works as a resident at Martin Luther King Hospital.”
It had to be unrelated
, Cooper reasoned. Injecting a jealous boyfriend into this confusing mix, he decided, would be counterproductive.
“Doesn’t register,” Cooper said, uncomfortable about the lie.
“You sure?” Prentiss pressed. “I thought we had a live one. Corazon, a nurse. Stokes, a doctor. The Vice President, a kind of medical mystery…”
“I suppose it could be related,” Cooper granted for the sake of logic. “But I doubt it, and the name doesn’t ring a bell.”
As he spoke, he saw Blake approaching.
“Okay,” Prentiss said, with evident disappointment. “There’s more. The dog tag.”
For a moment his attention was deflected from Blake’s oncoming figure.
“Blank on both sides,” Prentiss said. This new piece of information did not surprise Cooper.
“I’ll have to get back to you,” Cooper said.
Blake had his gaze focused on Cooper as he came forward.
“We’re not through,” Prentiss said.
“Let’s meet later,” Cooper said watching Blake. “Something’s come up.”
“Shamrock. Six o’clock,” Prentiss said.
Cooper hung up the phone just as Blake arrived.
“You had me going,” Blake said.
“About what?” Cooper asked innocently.
“Corazon. The things she said about the Vice President.”
“Why are you so interested in that, Blake?” Cooper asked nonchalantly.
“I don’t like games, Cooper,” Blake said erupting into anger. “What the fuck did she tell you?”
“I told you, it’s none of your goddamned business,” Cooper said, suspecting that the remark would throw Blake into a rage. He was right. Blake grabbed Cooper by both shoulders and pinned him to the wall.
“You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with,” Blake hissed. Cooper could smell the medicinal odor of his mouthwash.
“Don’t I?”
“I think you better tell me,” Blake said. In a skillful motion, he turned Cooper’s body into the wall and grabbed an arm, bending it behind him. Spears of pain shot through Cooper’s body.
“She…” Blake put more pressure on his arm. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating.
“I’m listening.”
“The…the Vice President’s health….”
“What about it?”
“That’s why she was there.”
“Where?”
“The Vice President’s house,” Cooper said. “She said he was very sick.”
“What else?”
He searched his mind for something that would retain credibility to his story. So far, he had stated the obvious, enough to get Blake all riled up. Then he hit upon an idea.
“You keep pushing this, I’m gonna scream bloody murder.”
Cooper felt Blake’s grip loosen slightly.
“What did she say was wrong with him?” Blake asked, slightly less belligerently.
Cooper groped for an answer, searched for the stab in the dark that would set him off again. To prod him further, Blake pushed Cooper’s arm further back. The pain was unbearable.
“Dale Chase confirmed it,” Cooper said.
Before he could get the words out, Blake seemed to explode. He flipped Cooper around and pinioned him to the wall, his hand groping at his windpipe.
“You son of a bitch,” Blake shouted.
At that moment the woman who worked the lunch counter came out of the nearby ladies room and, suddenly startled, screamed.
“It’s nothing,” Blake said, releasing him.
“It looked like something to me,” the woman said.
“No. It’s okay,” Cooper confirmed, exchanging glances with Blake.
Still skeptical, the woman moved down the corridor to the lunchroom. When she was gone, Blake turned to him.
“I’m not through with you,” he said ominously. Turning abruptly, he went back toward the exercise room.
In the sauna, Cooper tried to evaluate what he had learned. At the same time, he was surprised that Blake had not pursued him further. Also, he speculated that the woman who served the lunch counter would be a credible witness if Blake tried any further strong-arm tactics.
He found it difficult to organize his thoughts. It was increasingly impossible to keep things in perspective. Obviously, he was at the mercy of people or events over which he had no control. He had pinned his hopes on Prentiss. But now Laura’s idea of running from this was becoming more and more attractive. For the first time, he believed his was in danger. Blake had erupted for a reason, possibly the same reason for Laura’s disappearance, and the murder of Anni Corazon.
Later, Sig Kessler joined him in the sauna. “What’s going on with you and Blake?” Kessler asked.
“Word sure travels fast,” Cooper murmured. But the sight of Kessler triggered yet another idea.
“You must have really ticked him off,” Kessler said.
“How’s your friend Dietrich?” Cooper asked.
“Dietrich?”
“Dr. Dietrich,” Cooper pursued, emphasizing “Doctor.” Now that he had vetted Blake, this new interrogation came easier. As expected, the remark got Kessler’s attention.
“You know him?”
“I saw him here.”
“He was never here,” Kessler protested.
“I saw him.”
“I think you’re confused.”
Kessler brought his naked body into a sitting position at the edge of the bench. He seemed lost in shocked silence.
“Lots of funny things going on in this place,” Cooper added.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“I think you’re making a very big mistake,” Kessler said.
“And how is Vice President Haley’s health?” Cooper asked with just the correct cryptic tone. He knew he was being reckless. Nevertheless he plowed forward. When Kessler didn’t answer, Cooper tried again.
“From what I’ve seen, he looks pretty sick,” Cooper said. “Dr. Dietrich certainly has his work cut out for him.”
“You sound crazy,” Kessler said. His amiable façade had clearly vanished.
“How should I sound after witnessing these strange goings on?” Cooper asked, inspecting Kessler’s astonished face. Then he added a counterpunch. “Don’t deny it Kessler, you’re in it up to your ass, aren’t you?”
Kessler frowned and looked around him helplessly. His body glistened with sweat. Blake’s and Kessler’s reaction to his queries convinced Cooper that he was pursuing the correct strategy. He had to shake loose an explanation from these people. There had to be one that made sense. He had yet to see anything definitive emerging from Prentiss’ inquiries. And so far she had not found a clue to Laura’s disappearance. Cooper saw himself on a sacred mission to unscramble events. No longer would he allow himself to be Joseph K., from
The Trial,
who had, it seemed, probably been a party to his own entrapment.
Cooper was determined to be the catalyst unraveling the mysteries. He had certainly roused Blake, and now Kessler, who was slumped against the wall of the sauna, pondering over thoughts triggered by Cooper’s revelations.
No place to hide guys
, Cooper thought, feeling a growing strength and fearlessness
Leaving the sauna, he showered, dressed in a clean pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and left the building. He hoped he had stirred the pot. Now, he concentrated on the Carlton Stokes matter. He would not tolerate being spied on by Susan’s ex-boyfriend, and he wasn’t afraid to confront that, either.
On the way back to his apartment he debated the next steps. Jealousy, Cooper supposed, was an irrational emotion, but very real to the afflicted. Susan had told him that she had bought a gun. That was a protective device, but it did not pose a solution. Cooper wanted very much to have a relationship with Susan without fear that her ex-boyfriend would do something harmful. He also felt he owed it to her to explain what he had seen last night. Hoping to find her at her job, Cooper found Kramer’s name on the list of plastic surgeons from Maryland listed in the
Yellow Pages
. He dialed the number.
“Doctor’s office,” an officious voice said.
“Yes. I’d like to speak to Susan Haber,” Cooper said.
“Moment please.”
Soon the voice came back on the phone.
“Is it Doctor Kramer’s office you’re calling?”
“Yes.”
“Doctor Kramer is on a two week tour of Europe. The office is closed. He won’t be back until the end of the month.”
“Is this his office?”
“No. This is the answering service.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“I’m sorry. There is no mistake.”
“Yes there is,” Cooper persisted, remembering Susan’s words last night about her heavy work schedule at Dr. Kramer’s clinic.
“He left with his wife four days ago.”
“Wait….”
“I’m sorry. We get our information and instructions directly from the source. In this case, Dr. Kramer. Will you hold please?”
Perhaps I have misunderstood
, Cooper thought. Susan had said she would be busy because the doctor had scheduled cases before he left on his vacation. He hung up, and called her number. The phone rang. There was no answer. He would postpone all doubt, until they met the following day. They would have the entire weekend to sort things out between them. Perhaps by then he would know more about the fate of Laura.
He decided that his best course of action was to go back to Laura’s apartment and try to check the answering machine for any additional messages. There was also the possibility that she might have called in from somewhere, gotten her messages by remote, and erased them.
****
He couldn’t be certain, of course, but by the time he reached Chevy Chase station, he had the feeling that he was being followed again. He had, by now, developed a kind of sixth sense.
As the train pulled into the station, he decided to test his suspicion. He moved through the cars, sat down, moved again. There was indeed a man he could see in his peripheral vision who moved each time he moved.
Cooper tried other maneuvers as well. He changed trains, waiting at the last moment until boarding, then he got off one station before Dupont Circle and moved into the street. Once in the street, he accelerated his movements, sprinting whenever he turned a corner, zigzagging then backtracking. By the time he reached Laura’s apartment house, he was sure he had lost the man.
Using a similar ruse to the one he used the day before, he got into the building and up the elevator to Laura’s floor. The door opened with ease.
For some reason, the atmosphere of the apartment seemed different than the day before. Cooper wondered if his imagination had conjured up an atmospheric sensitivity that generated its own paranoia. He ignored the feeling and went straight to the answering machine.
The red light was blinking. He pushed the “new message” button. The machine played.
“…please, Mrs. Chase. The Vice President conveys his regrets that he cannot talk to you. He is quite busy and he urges you to stop calling. At some point in time he will call you back, but he respectfully asks that you cease and desist from these calls.”
Cooper was both confused and relieved. Did this new message mean that Laura had called from someplace other than her apartment?
Another message came on, a man’s voice. “Mrs. Chase. I’d appreciate a call back on this number.” The man gave the number and hung up. Cooper played this again, and wrote down the number.
“No need for that,” a man’s voice said. Cooper turned and confronted two large men in dark suits.
“Agent Morris, FBI. This is Agent Florio.” Both of them exhibited their credentials, including a badge and an ID. Cooper looked at them carefully.
“And you are?” Agent Morris demanded.
They both were about the same age and height, and both had partially gray hair. If there was a difference between them it was in the shade of their complexions. Morris’ was light. Florio’s was dark.
“Jack Cooper.”
“Yes, Mr. Cooper. Would you mind sitting down for a moment?”
Cooper observed the intensity in their eyes, his mind searching for some strategy that made sense in his current predicament.
“Can you explain your presence here, Mr. Cooper?” Agent Florio asked. His expression had the air of professional stoicism. Urging himself to maintain a calm demeanor.
Cooper explained his presence without any specifics. Laura, he pointed out, was his friend. Not his lover, he emphasized. He was concerned when he could not reach her. Cooper felt these men were not allies to Laura’s cause. Alarm bells went off in his mind. Yet he wanted to appear forthright and admitted that his worry about the woman led him to break down the door of her apartment to gain entry.
“I thought she might be hurt, or worse,” he told them.
“Why did you think that?” Agent Morris interjected.
Cooper shugged. He was determined not to be intimidated by these men.
“Did you remove anything from the premises?” Florio asked.
“Absolutely not,” he said indignantly.
The men exchanged glances.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Florio asked.
“The night before last,” he said cautiously. “At the Shamrock Bar.” He deliberately did not mention Prentiss. “Do you know where she is?”
They exchanged glances again and ignored his question.