Pawnbroker: A Thriller (17 page)

Chapter 73

INTENSIVE CARE UNIT

NORTHEAST MISSISSIPPI HEALTH CENTER

TUPELO, MISSISSIPPI

“I’ll just wait around in case she wakes up. I have some very important questions to ask her,” Wainwright said, now dressed in khakis and a black blazer, FBI creds extended for Dr. Belenchia to examine.

“Understand me clearly, Mister...what did you say your name was?”

“Collier. Special Agent Dan Collier, on loan to the Bureau from Scotland Yard.”

“Fine, Agent Collier. No one will go near this patient again as long as she’s under my care. Not you. Not the local police. Not the governor. Not Sherlock Holmes. She came to town with comparatively mild problems. Police showed up, started going in and out of her room, and all at once she’s in critical condition. No more.”

Good. No one had seen him earlier, dressed in scrubs.

“First, this is my first visit, but surely you don’t think the police had anything to do with her medical condition? That’s preposterous.”

“Time will tell.”

“Be careful where you...oh, what’s the saying...ah yes, take care where you stick your nose, doctor.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not, just pointing out that some things are larger than you, larger than this hospital.”

“Get out.”

He backed toward the elevator, a sneering smile slopped across his pallid face. “I’ll be back, old chap.” He winked and stepped into the elevator.

Chapter 74

“H
ow many times, Ray Earl, just how many times have I told you not to associate with that Rocky Shackleford?”

Ray Earl hung his head. “A lot, Mama.”

A tidy little silver-haired woman in her late sixties, Beatrice Higgins had checked in on her son every day since he moved out of her house and into the little efficiency apartment eight years ago. Ray Earl wasn’t retarded; to be clear, in some ways he was extremely intelligent. In others, however, he certainly came across as a few eggs shy of a dozen, a fact she had dealt with when he was a small child. Her husband Grady had not been so accepting. He left when the boy was seven, the day Ray Earl and his second-grade classmate, one Richard “Rocky” Shackleford, had been sent home from school for beating some poor child with a lunchbox.

Beatrice sighed. “All right, we’ll talk about that later. Tell me what has you so upset.”

Chapter 75

I
reached into the bag and pulled out the Discman. “We pawn portable CD players every day, but not like this.”

“What do you mean?” Penny said.

“This is only the second one like this I’ve ever seen.”

“Where was the first?”

“At my house. Busted into pieces from being thrown against a brick wall, I assume by Abby.” I pictured the exercise room at my house, the broken things scattered across the floor, and suddenly realized what was different about the mess the second time I saw it. The busted Discman was gone. Somebody had been inside my house.

“Awfully high-tech looking.”

“Here, feel it.” I handed it to her.

“Heavy.”

“Weighs twice as much as a normal Discman.”

“Maybe...”

“...it has something else inside,” I finished. “Let’s take it with us and get out of here before Michael hears us.” I gently opened the door, then closed it without going out.

“What?” Penny said.

“We need to know who pawned this.”

She nodded. “How’re we going to do it without Michael knowing?”

I thought about that for a moment, then tiptoed over to my office. I got a pen and paper and wrote a note to LungFao, instructing him to look up the pawn number and print the transaction.

I motioned for Penny to follow and we made a quiet exit. Outside, I gave her the note. “Go down this alley. Right past that dollar store, cut back up to the street, then walk the sidewalk back up here. Go in, be sure Michael isn’t nearby, and give LungFao the note.”

She headed down the alley. I started toward the old Dodge, then walked past my back door and stopped at the next one. I knocked quietly, three quick raps followed by two slower ones, the knock we’d used since the days of childhood forts and secret clubhouses. Teddy’s office was at the back of the building and no one else would hear the knock. The door opened and Teddy’s freckled face lit up in surprise. He looked both ways, then motioned for me to come inside.

“Catch me up,” he said, “what’s going on?”

“Gotta go soon,” I said, staying outside. “Just wanted to check in with you.”

“The police have been over there twice!” he said in an excited whisper-hiss.

“I know. Listen, Teddy, I hate to ask you this, especially after what you’ve already done, but...”

“What? Just say it.”

“You got any cash on you? I’m afraid to use credit cards and I’m tapped out.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders, looked me straight in the eye. “You’re my best friend. What’s mine is yours. Got it?”

I nodded.

“Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared inside, and returned about two minutes later and shoved a wad of bills into my hand.

“I’ll pay you back,” I said.

“You need anything else, just call, okay?”

I nodded and walked away. Teddy stepped back inside and closed the door. I walked back to the Dodge and climbed in. Penny showed up almost immediately, carrying a piece of paper. She got in and handed it to me.

“Sheesh, that’s a lot of help,” I said. “John Smith. And a bullshit address.”

“How do you know?”

“There is no nine-fifty-three Willow Street.”

“Maybe it’s a new street?”

I shook my head. “All street numbers in Montello begin in the twenty-one hundreds. Part of the Montello Millennium Project, a goofy idea city hall came up with that pissed off ninety percent of the town.” I wadded up the sheet and put it in the glove compartment. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 76

W
e were at Doc’s place, where we should be safe. If they hadn’t figured out that Homestead’s body was in Doc’s freezer—and they obviously had not—there was no reason to think they’d link him to us.

He was kind enough to let us take a shower, after which I educated him on our predicament. We were in his living room, a dimly lit affair filled with books. They were on the tables, the couch, the floor, the television; every flat surface was covered with stacks. His wife, a petite and attractive lady named Angela, insisted on fixing us a plate of sandwiches, which we scarfed down like starving animals.

“Thank you so much,” Penny said. “I didn’t realize how famished I was.”

“You’re certainly welcome, dear. I apologize for the condition of this room, but I finally gave up the fight and let the big lug have his books.”

“You’re too good for me, my punkin,” Doc said in cuddlespeak.

“I certainly am,” she said, and winked at Penny and me as she hauled the empty dishes out. The way they looked at each other brought a smile to my heart. It faded when I thought of my own marriage and wondered where it was going, provided Abby recovered. Despite all I knew, I still wanted to see her, and I desperately wanted to see my girls.

We showed Doc the articles about the similar cases. I also told him about the strange red ring in Abby’s eyes that we saw on the video. I left out the part about what she was doing in that motel movie.

“Doc, what kind of drug could do something like this?” I said.

He stood and paced the tiny trail that snaked its way through the stacks of books. Halfway through the third circuit, he stopped. “I’ve studied that tissue some more.” Then he took off again. Stopped. “I just can’t reconcile the pathology with any known substance, chemical or biological.” He plopped down into his carved-out space on the sofa.

“Maybe we should go ahead and take a look at that CD player,” Penny said.

In years past, I could handle staying up all night without a problem, but I guess those days were gone. I was exhausted, and I had forgotten all about the Discman we’d found back at the shop.

“Yeah, definitely,” I said.

Penny pulled it from her purse and handed it to me. A pair of LEDs on the front flashed brightly. I opened the lid and found a homemade CD inside. Somebody had written LOVE MIX on it with a red Sharpie. I took the CD out, looking for a hidden door or compartment underneath, found nothing, put it back. Pulled the battery cover off.

Penny was on one side, looking on, Doc on the other.

“Wow,” Penny said, “never saw a battery like that.”

“May I?” Doc said, and reached for it.

I handed it to him and he removed the battery. At least, I assumed it was a battery. He held it up and whistled low. “This is incredible.”

Chapter 77

C
armen sat against the wall in the supply closet, knees drawn to her chest. She wiped the tears from her eyes and read that one sentence again in the letter from Emilio’s sister:

Emilio se fue en el tiempo correcto.
Emilio left on time. Él era muy feliz. He was very happy.

Where could he be? She tried to tell herself it was nothing serious. There had been some change of destination, that’s all. Any day now, she would be waiting behind the hotel, probably during lunch but maybe the morning break, and she would look up, and Emilio would be standing there, Emilio with the smile that made her heart stop beating. And she would run to him and he would hold her and she would kiss him again and again. He would touch her stomach and they would be so happy.

But in her soul, Carmen knew. The sense of dread had been growing each day. She carefully folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket on her housekeeping uniform dress. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled herself into a tight ball, and her body shook as she sobbed. She didn’t know what had happened, but she knew she would never see Emilio again.

Without warning, the door opened, flooding the small room with unwelcome light. She looked up, expecting to find her supervisor, Alicia, or one of the other housekeepers. Instead, she saw a man looking down at her. He had red hair and light skin with freckles. He cocked his head to one side, his forehead wrinkled.

“Miss? Are you okay?” he said.

Carmen wiped her eyes and scrambled to her feet, knocking several aerosol cans off a shelf in the process. She grabbed at the cans as they clanged onto the concrete floor. “Oh, I am sorry. I—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” the man said, his voice soft. “What’s your name?”

“Carmen.”

“Carmen, I’m Teddy. I own this place. Come on, let’s go to my office so you can tell me what’s wrong.”

Chapter 78

The object had flat metal contacts on one end, much like those on rechargeable batteries that come with many electronic items, but the similarity ended there. Three glass tubes, each about the size of a double-A, were nestled side by side. A gold cap spanning all three tubes was on one end, a transparent red one on the other end.

One tube looked empty. One was filled with a thick clear liquid, roughly the consistency of corn syrup. The third one glowed a faint red color, sort of like the chemical glow-sticks you see at concerts.

“What is it, Doc?” I said.

“The LEDs on the main unit stopped flashing when I removed this, so we can assume it’s the power source, but...” He started pacing again, holding it up in front of him, studying it intently, never missing a turn or bumping a book.

“But what?”

Pace.
Stop. Pace. Stop. “I’m certain it’s a fuel cell of some sort, but it doesn’t fit any of the technology that’s out there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wrong components, no air intake. Several problems with the design. Let’s take it to my workshop and measure its output.”

We fell in behind him and watched him work when he got to the shop and hooked the thing up to two or three different pieces of equipment. He muttered “impossible” and “fascinating” no less than a dozen times each, and finally switched all the equipment back off.

“Well?” I said.

“Impossible, this device is impossible.” His eyes were wide, full of wonder, his voice shaky.

“Come on, Doc, the suspense is killing me. What the hell is it?”

“Oh, it’s a fuel cell, all right, but it makes no sense. Why on Earth would they use extraordinary technology like this in a stereo?”

“What’s the big deal? It’s a fancy battery, right?” Penny said.

Doc waggled his finger and shook his head, as if she’d just given a bad answer in class. He switched one of his meters back on, rummaged in a drawer, came out with a double-A Duracell. He attached some leads to it and pointed to the digital display on the meter. “Read that.”

“One-point-five-three,” Penny said.

“Correct, one-and-a-half volts.” He disconnected the Duracell and hooked up the fuel cell, then stepped back and crossed his arms. “Now, read that.”

“Forty-two thousand, five hundred fifty-one?”

“Yes! Forty-two thousand volts!”

“Hold on, Doc,” I said. “I sell stun guns that put out fifty thousand volts from a nine-volt battery. It just drops the amperage way down. What’s the big deal?”

Doc flipped a switch and pointed to the meter. “Any more questions?”

I didn’t believe my eyes. According to his meter, which was no doubt in perfect working order—Doc is that way, a stickler on his gear—this tiny gizmo was putting out over forty thousand volts, at twenty-two amps.

“That,” I said, “is a lot of power. How’s that possible?”

“Precisely. And again, why would someone put something like this in a music machine? It’s like launching a Saturn rocket at a fireworks show.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said. I went to the living room and got the device, brought it back to the workshop. “Maybe it powers some device that makes drugs or something. Maybe it’s not a CD player at all.”

“Let’s find out,” Doc said. He reinserted the fuel cell and punched PLAY. The display showed digits just like any player, and within a couple of seconds, we heard music coming from the headphones.

“It could still serve some other purpose and just be disguised as a normal CD player,” Penny said.

Doc picked it up and examined it closely. “If it were a power supply for some external device, there would have to be an electrical output on it capable of transmitting that power. The only output here is the one for the headphones, which we can hear.”

“That signal could carry something other than sound, though, couldn’t it?” I said. “It could carry data.”

“It could, but why? There are already thousands of devices out there capable of transmitting data. Why cloak one in secrecy like this?”

I shrugged. Penny gave a facial shrug.

“Maybe we should remember Occam’s Razor, which states that the most obvious answer to any question is usually the correct one.”

“And what’s obvious?” I said.

“It’s a revolutionary power supply, incredibly valuable if these remarkable performance measurements hold up in extended tests. And, it’s tucked away where least expected. This thing could probably go through airports and borders without a problem.”

“Doc,” Penny said, “what would you say this kind of thing is worth?”

“It’s light-years ahead of any portable power technology I’m aware of. It’s worth...well...I’ve never been the sharpest tool in the financial drawer, but it’s worth a lot.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “It could be nothing more than this super-battery technology, stolen technology. There’s no way the U.S. government would allow this thing to leave the country, so maybe the plan was to smuggle it out so it could be sold to the highest bidder overseas.”

“But what about Homestead’s cooked brain, and Abby’s red-ringed eyes. That’s got to be some kind of drugs,” I said. “And, there was another one at my house, all busted up, but it was just like it.”

Penny looked at me with a why-haven’t-you-mentioned-this-to-me expression.

“Until we found this one,” I explained, “I thought it was just a CD player.”

She nodded, then pondered a few seconds and said, “Who says it’s connected to the drug issue?” Penny said. “New designer drugs hit the street all the time, and it could be pure coincidence that some of the players in this tech smuggling got on this new drug.”

“If that’s the case, why would Abby have one of these things?”

“Gray, I hate to say this, but looking in from the outside, maybe Abby was involved in the smuggling herself.”

I felt like I should be offended, like I should defend my wife’s character or something, but I couldn’t.