Abel Baker Charley (61 page)
“It's hardly a well-traveled road, Mr. Harrigan,” Sonnen
berg reminded him. ”I can know more about the Chimera phenomenon than any man living and still know almost nothing. I know that the potential among human beings is
quite common, that in Jared's case the primal Baker had al
ready worked its way close to the surface before the first
traumatic stimulus released it, and that the result is two dis
tinct and quite opposite personalities plus the original con
glomerate. Certain of the physical and mental capabilities of Abel and Charley, however, were an utter surprise.”
berg reminded him. ”I can know more about the Chimera phenomenon than any man living and still know almost nothing. I know that the potential among human beings is
quite common, that in Jared's case the primal Baker had al
ready worked its way close to the surface before the first
traumatic stimulus released it, and that the result is two dis
tinct and quite opposite personalities plus the original con
glomerate. Certain of the physical and mental capabilities of Abel and Charley, however, were an utter surprise.”
Harrigan gestured toward Stanley. “No matter how it
turned out, Stanley here was practice. You must have had
some idea of what you were getting.”
turned out, Stanley here was practice. You must have had
some idea of what you were getting.”
Sonnenberg shook his head, running a hand gently over
Stanley's cheek. “Stanley would not have prepared me for
Abel's strength, to choose just one example. But even that is
common. Documented stories abound, such as the mother
who looked out her window and saw that the jack of her
son's car had slipped while he was working beneath it. She panicked, flew through the door, and lifted the car off him,
realizing only later that she'd done something physically im
possible. But it clearly wasn't. And isn't.
Stanley's cheek. “Stanley would not have prepared me for
Abel's strength, to choose just one example. But even that is
common. Documented stories abound, such as the mother
who looked out her window and saw that the jack of her
son's car had slipped while he was working beneath it. She panicked, flew through the door, and lifted the car off him,
realizing only later that she'd done something physically im
possible. But it clearly wasn't. And isn't.
“Everyone has a triune brain, Harrigan, which means
everyone has an Abel. Everyone also has a hemispheric
cerebral cortex, which means everyone has a Charley as
well. And everyone who's ever had an extrasensory experi
ence, even feeling that a telephone is about to ring, has had
at least a nodding acquaintance with his own Charley.
Where extrasensory messages are received, they have obvi
ously been sent. It should come as no surprise, therefore,
that Charley is quite capable of communicating with other Charleys. What has not been understood before now is the
mechanism. A formed and developed Charley communi
cates with latent or incipient Charleys by literally calling
their parts together. One potentially unhappy result is that the residue amounts to an unassembled Abel.”
everyone has an Abel. Everyone also has a hemispheric
cerebral cortex, which means everyone has a Charley as
well. And everyone who's ever had an extrasensory experi
ence, even feeling that a telephone is about to ring, has had
at least a nodding acquaintance with his own Charley.
Where extrasensory messages are received, they have obvi
ously been sent. It should come as no surprise, therefore,
that Charley is quite capable of communicating with other Charleys. What has not been understood before now is the
mechanism. A formed and developed Charley communi
cates with latent or incipient Charleys by literally calling
their parts together. One potentially unhappy result is that the residue amounts to an unassembled Abel.”
“That's what happened with Tina?”
“That's my guess, Harrigan. Underline guess.”
“So Tina's not a Chimera?”
Sonnenberg straightened. “You're not paying attention,
Mr. Harrigan. Everybody is a Chimera. Baker was simply a
better subject than most and Tina was simply closer to the
source. As, incidentally, was Tanner Burke. What Tanner
Burke is is an unusually perceptive woman whom you've begun to imagine has psychic abilities. She has nothing of
the sort. What she has is a Charley and an emotional affinity
toward the prototypical Charley. There is a danger, Harrigan.
The danger is not what Tanner Burke is or what Tina Baker
is. The danger is what Jared Baker's now irreversible
Charley can now call into existence. This, Harrigan, is what
I had to see for myself. And this, sir, is why I've sought to
keep those three apart.”
Mr. Harrigan. Everybody is a Chimera. Baker was simply a
better subject than most and Tina was simply closer to the
source. As, incidentally, was Tanner Burke. What Tanner
Burke is is an unusually perceptive woman whom you've begun to imagine has psychic abilities. She has nothing of
the sort. What she has is a Charley and an emotional affinity
toward the prototypical Charley. There is a danger, Harrigan.
The danger is not what Tanner Burke is or what Tina Baker
is. The danger is what Jared Baker's now irreversible
Charley can now call into existence. This, Harrigan, is what
I had to see for myself. And this, sir, is why I've sought to
keep those three apart.”
Roger Hershey lifted Stanley in his arms and carried him
toward Sonnenberg's car.
toward Sonnenberg's car.
“We'll be leaving shortly,” Sonnenberg told Harrigan.
“May I assume you've no objection?”
“May I assume you've no objection?”
Harrigan let out a breath. He cocked a thumb toward
Baker and his daughter and Tanner Burke, who would not
look at him. “I've got all I can handle, Doc. Maybe we'll
have a talk some other time.”
Baker and his daughter and Tanner Burke, who would not
look at him. “I've got all I can handle, Doc. Maybe we'll
have a talk some other time.”
“Perhaps.” Sonnenberg backed away from Harrigan. His
hands came from behind his back, one of them holding a
stray pistol he'd picked up unseen. “At the moment, how
ever, I'm going to solve at least one of your problems.
What's left of Duncan Peck will be coming with me.”
hands came from behind his back, one of them holding a
stray pistol he'd picked up unseen. “At the moment, how
ever, I'm going to solve at least one of your problems.
What's left of Duncan Peck will be coming with me.”
“Peck is mine.” Harrigan stepped toward him.
“Prior claim, Mr. Harrigan.” He raised the pistol level
with Harrigan's belly. “Justice will be done, however. I
promise that.” Sonnenberg reached a beckoning hand toward
the revolver in Harrigan's belt.
with Harrigan's belly. “Justice will be done, however. I
promise that.” Sonnenberg reached a beckoning hand toward
the revolver in Harrigan's belt.
Harrigan placed his hand across the butt and held it there.
“See you later, Doc.”
“See you later, Doc.”
Sonnenberg took him at his word. ”A favor, Mr. Harri
gan? Duncan has clearly taken the assistant curator of this
museum. Philip Poindexter. I suspect he's been abused
and
is under guard someplace. He's really a very good curator,
Mr. Harrigan. Knows his pre-Columbian.”
gan? Duncan has clearly taken the assistant curator of this
museum. Philip Poindexter. I suspect he's been abused
and
is under guard someplace. He's really a very good curator,
Mr. Harrigan. Knows his pre-Columbian.”
“I'll take care of it.” Harrigan nodded. “But Peck likes his
packages neat and tidy. If I was you, I'd look in that van on the way out.”
packages neat and tidy. If I was you, I'd look in that van on the way out.”
“I'm obliged, sir.”
“Good,” Harrigan replied. “You can settle it now. How
does Baker keep the beastie from rattling the bars every time
some drunk spills a drink on him?”
does Baker keep the beastie from rattling the bars every time
some drunk spills a drink on him?”
“You flatter me that you think I know.”
“Then who the hell do I ask? Dear Abby? Guess, Doc. If
you don't know, then give me the way to bet.”
you don't know, then give me the way to bet.”
“Tranquilizers,” Sonnenberg answered. Perhaps.
Harrigan spat. He kicked at a dark gun that lay on the
floor near his foot. “Now who's not paying attention?”
floor near his foot. “Now who's not paying attention?”
“There's a drug called Reserpine. Once before it seemed
to affect Abel much more than Charley. Used lightly, it
should also help to subdue any normal hostilities that this
overall experience may leave with him. Reserpine is com
mon enough. In fact, it's been used in the Far East for cen
turies in the treatment of the mentally ill. Its properties
are—”
to affect Abel much more than Charley. Used lightly, it
should also help to subdue any normal hostilities that this
overall experience may leave with him. Reserpine is com
mon enough. In fact, it's been used in the Far East for cen
turies in the treatment of the mentally ill. Its properties
are—”
“I'll look it up.” Harrigan stopped him. “Here comes
Roger.”
Roger.”
Sonnenberg limped to where Tanner Burke sat with Jared
and Tina in her arms.
and Tina in her arms.
“Goodbye, miss,” he said.
She ignored him.
“You're all quite remarkable, you know. You as well. I
shall miss you.”
shall miss you.”
“You make me sick.” She looked up at him. “You all make me sick. My God, doesn't the damage you've done
bother you at all?”
bother you at all?”
Sonnenberg only sighed in response and surveyed the
scene around him. His eye fell upon the Karl Bitter pulpit,
now scarred from Biaggi's bullets but at least wiped free of
gore. He regretted that, to be sure. And he would weep for
Melanie Laver. And for Ben Coffey. But what else could she
mean? Surely not the fate befalling Duncan's people. Could
she mean Jared? What else should he have been? A convict?
How much time would have passed before the other prison
ers ventured a homosexual gang rape or any other violence against his person and then watched their arms being torn
from their sockets? Baker would still have been what he is
while understanding none of it. At his best, even avoiding
jail and retreating back into his world of lawns and white
houses, he would have been like a billion others puzzled by their occasional rages and ashamed of them, hearing inner
voices but denying them, sometimes clearly knowing the
thoughts of others but finding a curious comfort in the local psychiatrist's quack verdict of a treatable neurosis brought
on by the pressures of modern living. Damage indeed. Let us
hope that the passage of time may bring with it a less hys
terical view of events.
scene around him. His eye fell upon the Karl Bitter pulpit,
now scarred from Biaggi's bullets but at least wiped free of
gore. He regretted that, to be sure. And he would weep for
Melanie Laver. And for Ben Coffey. But what else could she
mean? Surely not the fate befalling Duncan's people. Could
she mean Jared? What else should he have been? A convict?
How much time would have passed before the other prison
ers ventured a homosexual gang rape or any other violence against his person and then watched their arms being torn
from their sockets? Baker would still have been what he is
while understanding none of it. At his best, even avoiding
jail and retreating back into his world of lawns and white
houses, he would have been like a billion others puzzled by their occasional rages and ashamed of them, hearing inner
voices but denying them, sometimes clearly knowing the
thoughts of others but finding a curious comfort in the local psychiatrist's quack verdict of a treatable neurosis brought
on by the pressures of modern living. Damage indeed. Let us
hope that the passage of time may bring with it a less hys
terical view of events.
“And what of your life, Miss Burke?” he asked as Roger
Hershey hoisted the unconscious form of Duncan Peck upon
his shoulder. “Mr. Peck, depend on it, can hope for a long
and useful existence after an appropriate period of penance.
But what will you do with yours? Mouth inane dialogue for
the cultural enrichment of the nation's bowlers and wait
resses? Smile prettily at cameras for the betterment of the
hair coloring industry?”
Hershey hoisted the unconscious form of Duncan Peck upon
his shoulder. “Mr. Peck, depend on it, can hope for a long
and useful existence after an appropriate period of penance.
But what will you do with yours? Mouth inane dialogue for
the cultural enrichment of the nation's bowlers and wait
resses? Smile prettily at cameras for the betterment of the
hair coloring industry?”
She watched him limp away behind Roger Hershey. By
the time he reached the cut in the glass wall, Marcus Sonnenberg wasn't limping anymore. Harrigan saw it too. He
had a further sense that once Sonnenberg passed through it,
he wasn't Marcus Sonnenberg anymore either.
the time he reached the cut in the glass wall, Marcus Sonnenberg wasn't limping anymore. Harrigan saw it too. He
had a further sense that once Sonnenberg passed through it,
he wasn't Marcus Sonnenberg anymore either.
18
Most of a winter had passed.
A northern California winter. The snow, when it came,
fell gently on earth that crusted but never quite froze. The ground here, unlike Connecticut's soil, did not yield to win
ter and then timidly send up its hardiest buds, like scouts, to report back on winter's retreat. Rather, the soil here rested
placidly between growing seasons. And when the day came that the rest was ended it would burst into life as if on sig
nal, a carpet of yellow poppies leading the way by hours.
fell gently on earth that crusted but never quite froze. The ground here, unlike Connecticut's soil, did not yield to win
ter and then timidly send up its hardiest buds, like scouts, to report back on winter's retreat. Rather, the soil here rested
placidly between growing seasons. And when the day came that the rest was ended it would burst into life as if on sig
nal, a carpet of yellow poppies leading the way by hours.
The place was Clear Lake, a hundred miles north of San
Francisco and fifty miles inland. The home was made of
pine logs cut from a forest not a mile up the road. The bal
cony, or raised deck, Baker had built himself. From it he
could see the full expanse of deep blue water and the peak
of Snow Mountain against the far horizon past softly rolling
hills. That view, done in oils, already hung over the massive
stone fireplace that Baker and Tina had built together.
Francisco and fifty miles inland. The home was made of
pine logs cut from a forest not a mile up the road. The bal
cony, or raised deck, Baker had built himself. From it he
could see the full expanse of deep blue water and the peak
of Snow Mountain against the far horizon past softly rolling
hills. That view, done in oils, already hung over the massive
stone fireplace that Baker and Tina had built together.
Baker stepped away from the window and picked up his palette. He stood for a moment, admiring the half-finished
canvas in the crisp afternoon light. Tina's face. A portrait. Smiling at him. Not bad, he thought. Not Delacroix. But not
bad. It was the best thing Sonnenberg had given him. The
phone rang.
canvas in the crisp afternoon light. Tina's face. A portrait. Smiling at him. Not bad, he thought. Not Delacroix. But not
bad. It was the best thing Sonnenberg had given him. The
phone rang.
“I'll get it, Daddy,” Tina called. He heard her footsteps
skipping down from the loft bedroom she'd chosen. It was
the third call that day. Two from a young man named David,
whose family was taking a ski vacation at Lake Tahoe, ex
cept he wouldn't have a bit of fun unless Tina came with
them. David's father, a small local vintner, had already
asked Baker's permission and gotten it, but Baker would say
nothing until Tina herself asked. A part of him hoped she
would not. They had not been apart since Harrigan had half-
carried them across Fifth Avenue, where he stole another un
locked car. But the less selfish part wanted her to go. The leg
was strong. Strong enough. It was time to test it and use it
beyond her daily, mile-long walks to school, forsaking the
school bus in favor of the exercise, or her weekend hikes
into Lucerne with Sam, the stray dog she claimed to have
found.
skipping down from the loft bedroom she'd chosen. It was
the third call that day. Two from a young man named David,
whose family was taking a ski vacation at Lake Tahoe, ex
cept he wouldn't have a bit of fun unless Tina came with
them. David's father, a small local vintner, had already
asked Baker's permission and gotten it, but Baker would say
nothing until Tina herself asked. A part of him hoped she
would not. They had not been apart since Harrigan had half-
carried them across Fifth Avenue, where he stole another un
locked car. But the less selfish part wanted her to go. The leg
was strong. Strong enough. It was time to test it and use it
beyond her daily, mile-long walks to school, forsaking the
school bus in favor of the exercise, or her weekend hikes
into Lucerne with Sam, the stray dog she claimed to have
found.
The other call was a hangup. It troubled him as all such
calls did. But Charley said he felt nothing. Not to worry. But while he thought of it, would Baker mind some cherry sauce
for a change on the duck he was planning to roast for din
ner? Next time, Baker promised. Connor Harrigan would be
stopping by in an hour or two, and he didn't have time to run
down to the Safeway in Lucerne.
calls did. But Charley said he felt nothing. Not to worry. But while he thought of it, would Baker mind some cherry sauce
for a change on the duck he was planning to roast for din
ner? Next time, Baker promised. Connor Harrigan would be
stopping by in an hour or two, and he didn't have time to run
down to the Safeway in Lucerne.
Charley or not, the hangup stayed on Baker's mind. He
couldn't shake the thought that it might have been Tanner. It
wasn't, though. She didn't have his number. She didn't even
know they were in the same state. For all Baker knew, she'd blocked those two days out of her mind by now. Five days,
counting the next three in a motel near Kennedy airport
waiting for him to be able to stand up. And when he could,
when he could look into her eyes to see if she saw Abel
when she looked into his, he remembered almost grinning
with relief when he saw that she did not. But then he caught
her staring at Tina. Tanner didn't see Abel there. No one
could. Not in that face. That was what made it so terrible for
Tanner. That there could be an Abel there. That a sweet,
happy child could tear the throats out of two grown men and
crush the skull of another. That's when Baker left her. For all
their sakes. Tanner couldn't get away from Harrigan fast
enough anyway.
couldn't shake the thought that it might have been Tanner. It
wasn't, though. She didn't have his number. She didn't even
know they were in the same state. For all Baker knew, she'd blocked those two days out of her mind by now. Five days,
counting the next three in a motel near Kennedy airport
waiting for him to be able to stand up. And when he could,
when he could look into her eyes to see if she saw Abel
when she looked into his, he remembered almost grinning
with relief when he saw that she did not. But then he caught
her staring at Tina. Tanner didn't see Abel there. No one
could. Not in that face. That was what made it so terrible for
Tanner. That there could be an Abel there. That a sweet,
happy child could tear the throats out of two grown men and
crush the skull of another. That's when Baker left her. For all
their sakes. Tanner couldn't get away from Harrigan fast
enough anyway.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Vickie.” Victoria. Tina's middle name. They kept
Baker. It was common enough. And Tina understood. Baker knew that she'd have preferred Liz if she had to have another
name, but she'd seen the sadness in her father's face when
she brought it up.
Baker. It was common enough. And Tina understood. Baker knew that she'd have preferred Liz if she had to have another
name, but she'd seen the sadness in her father's face when
she brought it up.
“
David Torrence asked if I could go skiing next weekend
with his family. Or do you already know that?”
David Torrence asked if I could go skiing next weekend
with his family. Or do you already know that?”
“Fathers know everything.” He smiled. “Do you want to
go, honey?”
go, honey?”
”I think.”
Baker shrugged. “You like David. You like skiing. What's
to think about? Personally, I'd enjoy the peace and quiet.”
to think about? Personally, I'd enjoy the peace and quiet.”
“He wants to go tomorrow. It's a whole week.”
”A whole week of peace and quiet is even better.” But
Baker saw she was doubtful. It was something more than leaving him alone that long. “Babe, do you want to tell me
what's bothering you?”
Baker saw she was doubtful. It was something more than leaving him alone that long. “Babe, do you want to tell me
what's bothering you?”
Vickie waved her hands to show it was nothing. Then,
“Do you ever get feelings?”
“Do you ever get feelings?”
“I've been known. Yes.”
“I've got a feeling that I should be here tomorrow. That
I'll really want to. Sounds dumb, doesn't it?”
I'll really want to. Sounds dumb, doesn't it?”
“It'll sound a lot dumber tomorrow when you're here cleaning your loft instead of cutting slalom gates.”
Vickie nodded. She knew he was right. Probably. All the
same, though. “I'm going to say thanks, but maybe next
time.” She heard a crunch outside and stepped to the win
dow. “Anyway, here comes Mr. Harrigan.”
same, though. “I'm going to say thanks, but maybe next
time.” She heard a crunch outside and stepped to the win
dow. “Anyway, here comes Mr. Harrigan.”
Vickie excused herself once Connor Harrigan settled next to
the fire and took his first long sip from the Scotch Baker of
fered him. Sam followed her onto the terrace, where she
slipped on a pair of Walkman earphones and began dancing
with the half-Husky mongrel.
the fire and took his first long sip from the Scotch Baker of
fered him. Sam followed her onto the terrace, where she
slipped on a pair of Walkman earphones and began dancing
with the half-Husky mongrel.
Baker returned to his easel and pretended indifference
while he waited to hear whether Harrigan brought news this
trip or whether he'd finally ask the favor that Baker knew
would be coming one day. He would refuse, no question. But he'd listen. He owed Harrigan that much.
while he waited to hear whether Harrigan brought news this
trip or whether he'd finally ask the favor that Baker knew
would be coming one day. He would refuse, no question. But he'd listen. He owed Harrigan that much.
“Are you going to tell me?” Baker asked. “Or do I. . .”
Do I have to ask Charley? he almost said.
Do I have to ask Charley? he almost said.
“Good Scotch, Jared.” Harrigan had something on his mind, all right.
“The name's Paul. Try to get used to it.”
“Yeah.” Harrigan stood up and walked to the counter, where he poured another two inches. “Well, that's the first piece of news. You're Jared Baker again. The Connecticut charges are all quashed.”
Baker had expected that. The charges had no real sub
stance anyway. Wiping them off was easy for Harrigan, es
pecially with a phone call from Duncan Peck's replacement,
who owed his appointment to Connor Harrigan as much as anyone. Still, Baker thought, he'd leave things as they were
for a while. Things were good, mostly. And if it isn't broken,
don't fix it.
stance anyway. Wiping them off was easy for Harrigan, es
pecially with a phone call from Duncan Peck's replacement,
who owed his appointment to Connor Harrigan as much as anyone. Still, Baker thought, he'd leave things as they were
for a while. Things were good, mostly. And if it isn't broken,
don't fix it.
“Anything on Sonnenberg?” Baker tried to sound as
though his interest was casual. He hoped it would be some
day.
though his interest was casual. He hoped it would be some
day.
“Not a thing,” Harrigan answered. “Not him, not Levy,
not Peck. Levy and Peck figure to be dead. Levy for sure. He
didn't have enough gut left to string a banjo. No word on
Roger Hershey either. You want my own opinion, I think the
guy deep-sixed himself. You can't be Mr. Nice Guy Who
Kills People without something cracking sooner or later.”
not Peck. Levy and Peck figure to be dead. Levy for sure. He
didn't have enough gut left to string a banjo. No word on
Roger Hershey either. You want my own opinion, I think the
guy deep-sixed himself. You can't be Mr. Nice Guy Who
Kills People without something cracking sooner or later.”
Baker knew better, although he wasn't sure how. Roger
was alive. His name was Barrett now and he ran a bookstore
up north someplace. Probably the bookstore Melanie had mentioned. Barrett's of Wimpole Street. Melanie had never said all that but he knew. Maybe Charley heard her talking about it once. Whatever. Why don't we all just leave Roger alone as long as he's quiet and happy. Baker hoped he was
both.
was alive. His name was Barrett now and he ran a bookstore
up north someplace. Probably the bookstore Melanie had mentioned. Barrett's of Wimpole Street. Melanie had never said all that but he knew. Maybe Charley heard her talking about it once. Whatever. Why don't we all just leave Roger alone as long as he's quiet and happy. Baker hoped he was
both.
“Selling any paintings?”
”A couple.” Baker nodded. ”I have a gallery in San Fran
cisco that said they'd like to do a show this summer. Tina...
Vickie also talked the high school into setting up an exhibit
and getting me in to teach adult education classes.”
cisco that said they'd like to do a show this summer. Tina...
Vickie also talked the high school into setting up an exhibit
and getting me in to teach adult education classes.”
“Sounds like a nice life.”
“Your exact thoughts”—Baker smiled—“were ‘Boring
as shit' and ‘When is this turkey going to start looking for
some action.’ ”
as shit' and ‘When is this turkey going to start looking for
some action.’ ”
“Charley's a pain in the ass.”
“That was strictly Baker, Harrigan.”
Harrigan stood up and strolled to the window facing the
lake and the road that wound past it. “You know,” he said, “if I ever did ask you to do something, it would be strictly a
Charley deal. No beasties.”
lake and the road that wound past it. “You know,” he said, “if I ever did ask you to do something, it would be strictly a
Charley deal. No beasties.”
“Nice of you to drop in.” Baker's good humor faded.
“Just so you know.” Harrigan reached into his pocket and
pulled free a thick envelope, which he handed to Baker.
“Here's a present.”
pulled free a thick envelope, which he handed to Baker.
“Here's a present.”
“What is it? My arrest record?” Baker held up his fingers to show he had paint on them. Harrigan slipped the envelope
into Baker's pants pocket.
into Baker's pants pocket.
“Paper,” he answered. “Good paper. It says you're really
Paul Baker, San Diego birth certificate, matching records
down there. Also job history, education, military, the works.”
Harrigan saw his face darken. “Relax. No one knows but
me. A friend of mine at the Bureau of Engraving does this
for me once in a while if I get him tickets to Redskins
games. This makes it easier for you to move around, like when you go to your show in San Francisco. Who knows,
you might want to drive all the way to Hollywood someday.”
Paul Baker, San Diego birth certificate, matching records
down there. Also job history, education, military, the works.”
Harrigan saw his face darken. “Relax. No one knows but
me. A friend of mine at the Bureau of Engraving does this
for me once in a while if I get him tickets to Redskins
games. This makes it easier for you to move around, like when you go to your show in San Francisco. Who knows,
you might want to drive all the way to Hollywood someday.”
“You've seen her, haven't you?”
“I've seen her.”
Baker put down his brush and wiped his hands on a
stained towel. “How is she, Harrigan?”
stained towel. “How is she, Harrigan?”
“She still hates my guts pretty good, in case that news
brightens your day. Aside from that, she's not working too much. Spends a lot of time sailing her little boat by herself.
Long walks on the beach. That's where I caught up with her.
Beats the shit out of me why, but that lady cares about you,
Baker. Taking off like you did busted her up some. For
which I think you were an asshole, by the way. I mean, it's
not like you had a whole hell of a lot left to hide from her.”
brightens your day. Aside from that, she's not working too much. Spends a lot of time sailing her little boat by herself.
Long walks on the beach. That's where I caught up with her.
Beats the shit out of me why, but that lady cares about you,
Baker. Taking off like you did busted her up some. For
which I think you were an asshole, by the way. I mean, it's
not like you had a whole hell of a lot left to hide from her.”
“It's a different world, Harrigan. It wouldn't have
worked.”
worked.”
“If you're in hiding,” Harrigan agreed. “But I keep telling
you you don't have to hide. Or is it me being an asshole?”
you you don't have to hide. Or is it me being an asshole?”
Baker didn't answer.
“It's the kid, right? Tina.”
Baker nodded. “And Abel.” It was possible, just possible,
that over time Tanner could have forgotten what she'd seen Abel do. It was terrible to see, but sometimes the violence of
a plain man who's out of his head with anger can be just as
awful. Almost. But it would never work that way with Tina.
Like Sonnenberg said, Tina didn't remember a bit of what
happened in the museum, but Tanner surely did. And some
day, if she were around Tina, someday she might slip. She
might overreact to a normal display of anger on Tina's part. Or to a nightmare Tina might be having. Or to a distant and
dreamy look. Or to Tina knowing through ordinary intuition
what was on Tanner's mind. It was better the way it was.
that over time Tanner could have forgotten what she'd seen Abel do. It was terrible to see, but sometimes the violence of
a plain man who's out of his head with anger can be just as
awful. Almost. But it would never work that way with Tina.
Like Sonnenberg said, Tina didn't remember a bit of what
happened in the museum, but Tanner surely did. And some
day, if she were around Tina, someday she might slip. She
might overreact to a normal display of anger on Tina's part. Or to a nightmare Tina might be having. Or to a distant and
dreamy look. Or to Tina knowing through ordinary intuition
what was on Tanner's mind. It was better the way it was.
“Why didn't you tell her the truth about what you did at
the museum?” Baker asked.
the museum?” Baker asked.
Harrigan knew what he meant. He meant the bullets fired
into the heads of Peterson and Biaggi. The coats dropped over their faces so bits of brain would not spray over the
woman and the girl sitting near them. Dead brains. The life
torn out of them by the hands of Tina Baker. Bullets fired for
the record. So that the record would show it was Connor Harrigan who killed them, whatever ridiculous story might be told one day about a little girl ripping them apart.
into the heads of Peterson and Biaggi. The coats dropped over their faces so bits of brain would not spray over the
woman and the girl sitting near them. Dead brains. The life
torn out of them by the hands of Tina Baker. Bullets fired for
the record. So that the record would show it was Connor Harrigan who killed them, whatever ridiculous story might be told one day about a little girl ripping them apart.
“Leave well enough alone.” He shrugged. Besides,
Baker—and you can hear this if you want—that's one hell of a favor you owe me.
Baker—and you can hear this if you want—that's one hell of a favor you owe me.
Harrigan dug into his pocket again and pulled out two
plastic pill bottles. “Here's your refill,” he said, offering
them to Baker. “Reserpine. Down to a quarter grain, like you
asked. How's it doing?”
plastic pill bottles. “Here's your refill,” he said, offering
them to Baker. “Reserpine. Down to a quarter grain, like you
asked. How's it doing?”
“It works fine.” Baker nodded. “Of course, I haven't
really been exposed to anything out here that might make
me angry. And I'm not about to risk calling Abel. But I think
he's slipped pretty far back down. Not much from Charley
either. Even Charley's become more of a thought than a
voice. More of a well-developed intuition than a separate
person.”
really been exposed to anything out here that might make
me angry. And I'm not about to risk calling Abel. But I think
he's slipped pretty far back down. Not much from Charley
either. Even Charley's become more of a thought than a
voice. More of a well-developed intuition than a separate
person.”
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