Mortal Fear (59 page)

My God. I never saw it.

This is the key, Cole. Did you notice his choice of words in describing Kali? He didnt call her his wife, or his lover, but his
concubine
.

So?

The word has some very specific meanings. One refers to a secondary wife, one of inferior status. Yet we know from the transcripts that Berkmann legally married Kali.

So?

If she was of secondary status, who held the primary position?

At last I see it.

Hes been searching for that person his whole life, Lenz says. The substitute for his mother, the sister-lover he never had. Your Erin came along at precisely the right moment. The similarities between the names, your own incestuous secret revealed to him through her eyes. He couldnt resist it.

And his transplant plans?

Fate and the FBI had already interrupted them. His scientific search for immortality was on hold. But there was always another way.

Children, I say softly, recalling Miless thesis.

Exactly. The only true immortality well ever have. At some level Berkmann always knew that. Even if he gained an extra twenty vital years from his pineal transplant, he would only be postponing the end. But DNA lives forever. As long as there are offspring, anyway.

A single searing image fills my brain: the incision in Erins abdomen. Thats why he....

The ovaries, Cole. Thats why he cut out Erin Grahams ovaries.

He threw them away. When he found out Erin wasnt who he thought she was, he threw them away.

Im sorry.

Goddamn it, whats the final answer here? If hes alive, will he run or will he come back here?

Tell me about the videotape. Did he threaten you?

Not beyond the mills of the gods line.

Nothing else? Youve got to realize that Berkmanns mental decompensation wouldnt prevent him from being as calculating or manipulative as he ever was. Its conceivable that everything on that tape was meant to influence you in a certain way.

Though my mind resists it, I force myself to replay the sickening tape in my mind. He seemed to lose control about halfway through it. He said he was going into hiding. He also seemed to fixate on my wife at one point. He called her the alpha female of the family, talked about how perfect she was.

Did he say anything else about her?

He said I didnt deserve her.

You should move her to a safe location as quickly as possible. Tell no one where youre going.

I swallow, my throat dry. You really think

Edward Berkmann is a profoundly disturbed man who has been cut loose from his moorings. His only trusted ally was killed before his eyes. You are responsible for that. If hes alive, he might be looking for revenge. He might have transferred his subconscious anima projection onto your wife. Anything is possible at this point.

Thats what I wanted to know, Doctor. I appreciate it.

I hope hes dead, Cole. I couldnt have said that a week ago. But I mean it now.

I hope so too. Good-bye.

As I set down the phone, the effect of Lenzs words flows through me like electric current. Though it will make me even later, I find the Jackson yellow pages and open them to the realtors section. Picking the biggest ad for Ridgeland, I dial the number. Its nearly seven-forty, but I doubt the place is completely empty. After about twenty rings, a curt female voice answers. When I tell her Im looking for a house to rent, not buy, the coolness becomes frigidity. Then I say the magic words.

Money is not a consideration.

She adopts a guardedly warmer tone. A lot of people
say that until they hear the prices out there. Theres really nothing to rent.

Theres always something for the right price.

Well... there is one place for sale; the owners got tired of waiting and moved to Idaho. But they wouldnt rent for less than... four thousand. A month. And you couldnt have a lease.

Youll have a check for twelve grand in your hand tomorrow. But you dont tramp any buyers through there for the next three months. Deal?

I can almost hear her cursing herself for not asking more. After she takes my name, I race out to the Explorer with my keys in one hand and my pistol in the other.

Drewe is waiting outside her parents house with her bag. She doesnt seem angry that Im late. As I get out to open her door, someone opens the great front door of the Anderson house. Its Patrick. Hes standing inside with Holly in his arms.

Uncle Harp!

The three-year-old begins squirming, leaving Patrick no choice but to let her down. She flies off the steps like a brunette cannonball and races to me. My eyes still on Patrick, I kneel and stop her at arms length, trying to keep my smile natural. While she squeezes closer, I glance to my left, at Drewe, but she looks away quickly and walks over to Patrick.

I lift Holly into my arms and hug her tight. She digs her face into my neck and folds her arms between us, as if to go to sleep on my shoulder.

How you doin, punkin? I ask softly.

She shakes her head.

What is it?

I miss Mommy.

I close my eyes against the sting of tears, but its no use. Holly leans back, round-eyed and concerned. She touches the drops on my cheek. You miss her too?

I miss her too, punkin.

Her lower lip puffs out in a mixture of sadness and strength that I saw on Erins face many times.

Im okay, punkin. Thanks to you.

PawPaw and Daddy say Mommys in heaven, she whispers. Watching over us. Is that right? I cant see her up there.

You listen to your Daddy, I whisper back, wishing I had Patricks blind faith in God and all the rest.

Weve got to go, sweetie, Drewe says, suddenly beside us.

She pulls Holly away, walks to the steps, and deposits her in Patricks arms. The symbolic nature of this act is inescapable. Patrick gives me a blank wave, then turns and goes back into the house. Holly watches me over his shoulder as they go.

Taking a deep breath, I climb back into the Explorer. Drewe is already inside, facing sternly forward. The first fifteen minutes of the drive pass in awkward silence. The stripped cotton fields look barren as battlefields, and the hope I felt so recently wavers in the face of them.

I got us a house, I say finally, almost in defense.

What?

I got us a house. In Ridgeland. We can move in this week. If its not ready by tomorrow, we can get a hotel.

Her glance is brief, but I see gratitude in it.

Drewe

Its okay to talk about it, she says too loudly. The worst thing we could do is keep it hidden, like a piece of broken crystal. The first time we had to touch it, wed both get cut.

Does Patrick know anything yet?

She faces forward again, as though watching for our driveway, which we could both find blindfolded if necessary. No.

Erin wanted to tell him the truth, Drewe. Thats what she told me the day she died. She was planning to tell him that night. And she wanted me to tell you.

She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. Dont you think she was going to tell because she felt she had no option? That if she didnt, Patrick would leave her?

I shrug. I dont know. Erin seemed different that day. Like shed grown into a different person. It made me ashamed of myself, really. She was totally committed to her decision.

Dont tell me this, Harper.

Im sorry. I just wanted you to know the whole truth.

She turns to me, her green eyes burning. The truth? Ill tell you what the truth is. Patrick is a good man. A good father. Even during the craziness of the past few weeks, he hasnt let Holly see anything. With Erin gone, his obsession is going to fade. You should see him. Hes latched onto that child like a life raft. I think he realizes how stupid he was to have wasted time badgering Erin about the past. Because now shes gone. I dont think hell waste any more.

So youre saying

Im saying Patrick will never know about you and Erin. Neither will Holly. It will be harder on you than anybody, watching her grow up without knowing what you really are to her. But it has to be that way. You understand?

I nod silently.

For a while theyll be close to us, to my parents. But Patrick will eventually remarry and theyll drift away. It will hurt you. It will even hurt me. But thats the way life is. And somewhere out in the world, a little piece of Erin and you will be alive. Long after were dead even. Drewe looks away abruptly, and I realize she is hiding tears. Shell be okay, though. She comes from good people. Dont miss the damned drive.

I hit the brakes and wheel onto the gravel. As I pull around Drewes Acura and park, she says, Its settled, then?

Yes.

Good. Lets pack the essentials and go.

I am packing in my office when I notice the e-mail icon blinking beneath Nefertitis slowly turning head on the EROS computer. Dropping a can of shaving gel into my dopp kit, I stare at the icon. The sounds of Drewe packing in her bedroom echo up the hallway. Willing myself to be calm, I walk over and click the mouse on the icon. At the top of the message I see this:

SENDER:
SYSOP/Edward Berkmann, M.D.

Waiting for Miles to answer his cellular phone, I try desperately to remember whether my e-mail icon was blinking last night, whether I could possibly have missed it in the insanity of viewing Erins body or mopping up the blood. I dont think so. Nor was it blinking this afternoon. This message arrived in the past hour, as its time stamp indicates. Still, with my breath coming shallow, I pray that Berkmann somehow planted the message for delayed delivery while in the house yesterday.

Turner here.

A cacophony of road noise threatens to drown Miless voice. He is obviously walking or riding down a street somewhere.

Its Harper. Berkmann may be alive.

Why do you say that?

I just got an e-mail message from him, via EROS.

Time stamped?

Thirty minutes ago.

What does it say?

How did you like my little documentary? Id love to hear your comments. Ill be waiting for you in the Blue Room.

Theres a pause. He could have sent that from his plane. Before it went down. Whats the alias?

None. Its from SYSOP 1.

It cant be!

Man, are you in denial or what?

Look, Berkmann got that last e-mail message into the system through an old toll access line on a backup server. I found it and closed it off. Maybe this is one of my assistants. Fucking with us for a joke.

Wheres Baxter, Miles? Can you contact him?

Hes still in Connecticut. The state police are canvassing homes in the area of the airstrip Berkmann used, looking for the killing house. You at home?

Yes.

Ill call Baxter, call you right back.

I dont move a foot from the phone while I wait. From the noise coming up the hallway, Drewe is still wading through her drawers and closet. In less than two minutes Miles is back on the line.

Youre right, he says, his voice strangely muted. Berkmanns in the system right now. The son of a bitch is alive.

Jesus. I knew it.

The night he stole the master client list, he must have put a back door into the system. But he never used it. He knew the logs would catch him.

Never used it until now, you mean.

Right.

Can you trace him, Miles?

No. The FBI pulled their equipment off our switching system when we closed to clients, and the phone company wont help me without the FBI.

So what do I do?

Log into the Blue Room and see what he wants.

Hell no!

Baxter agrees, Harper. Keep him on-line long enough to check for typos. If there arent any, at least we know hes back on his voice-recognition system. Back in New York.

How could he have gotten back to New York?

Same way I got to Mississippi from Manhattan. Paying cash for air tickets. Hell, he could have ridden a Trailways up here by now. He could have stolen a plane down there. Ill get Baxter to start checking that stuff.

I think hes still down here, Miles.

Why?

I relate the story of the sunglasses in Erins grave, but Miles puts about as much stock in it as Sheriff Buckner did.

Just talk to him long enough to look for typos, he says. If hes back in New York, well have him. His voice
drops in volume. Baxters wasting his time in Connecticut. The killing house is here, Harper. Somewhere close to the medical school. Ive already found people whove seen Berkmann before. Washington Heights people. Im on 169th Street right now.

I hesitate. Dr. Lenz said Drewe and I should split. Get somewhere safe.

Yeah? Wheres that?

When I dont answer, Miles says, Safe for us is a function of Edward Berkmann no longer breathing. At some level you know that.

Okay... damn.

Not giving myself time for second thoughts, I hang up and log into the system as HARPER/SYSOP 2, then click into the Blue Room. Its empty. I type a quick query
Where are you?
route it to SYSOP 1, then activate the voice-recognition program.

Almost immediately, BERKMANN/SYSOP 1 appears in the top left corner of my screen under WHOS HERE? Then, like a voice from the grave, the now chilling digital baritone fills the office as letters appear on my screen.

This final proof that Berkmann is alive starts my heart pumping like a fist clenching and unclenching in my chest. Fighting fear, I pull on the headset and begin speakingnot as Erin this time, but as myself.

Ive yet to see a single typo in Berkmanns words, but I want to be absolutely sure Ive given him enough time.

The sudden ring of the telephone jars me. Hitting the space bar to mute the mike, I answer it.

Well? says Miles, as Berkmanns voice continues from the speakers.

Im on with him now.

Any typos?

None yet. Two screens worth of text.

Hes back in New York!

He says hes outside the country, Miles. Sounds like maybe South America.

Out of the country? Shit. How could he get out?

Same way he could get back to New York.

Keep him on as long as you can.

I dont want to talk to him!

Please
, Harper. Im getting close to him. I can feel it.

Berkmanns voice shocks me back to reality.

The ringing sibilance of water rushing through pipes breaks my concentration. Drewe is taking a shower. I guess I can put up with Berkmanns crap for a few minutes in the hope that Miles could be right about the killing house.

Lenzs warnings echo in my head like the shouts of an unheeded prophet.

I have to squeeze my hands together to stop them shaking.

From a whirlwind of fear, a lifeline of hope. The sword Berkmann thinks he holds over my head hangs over his own. But theres no reason to let him know that.

This finally stops Berkmann. At length, as if he has regained his composure, he replies:

Ive had enough. The line about Miles rattled me, but not enough to give Berkmann the last word.

I slam down the ESCAPE key and terminate the conversation. My hands are shaking with rage as I dial Miless cellular.

Harper?

Not a single typo. Are you anywhere close to finding his place?

Maybe. Im waiting for a guy now. A homeless guy named Leonardo. Hes a sidewalk artist. Leonardo. You believe that? Hes supposed to know something.

Like what?

I wont know till I see him, will I?

What about Baxter? He found anything?

Nothing.

Damn! Youve got to find him, Miles. He wants Drewe.

Drewe?

Hes fixated on her, obsessed. Like he thought he was with Erin. He bragged about you too. He
laughed
. Hes the most arrogant son of a bitch Ive ever seen.

The silence on the other end of the phone is absolute. I know Ive wounded Miles deeply, but maybe I wanted to. Maybe I want him in a state of fury when he finally faces Berkmann.

Harper?

Drewes voice sends a shock through my nervous system. I turn to my right and see her standing three feet inside my officethe room she has not entered for seven weekswearing nothing but a white terry bathrobe and a damp towel wrapped around her hair.

Whats happening? she asks. Who wants me?