Petrified (20 page)

He heard a faint, echoing thump. He looked at Theodor Zauber but Theodor Zauber shrugged and said nothing. He pressed his forehead against the window to try and see what was happening below them in the parking lot, but it was too dark. After a few seconds, he saw the gargoyle climbing up into the air again, its wings plunging up and down. It tilted off to the right, over West Ontario Street, and for a split second he saw it silhouetted against the street lights. Then it was gone.

‘What just happened?' demanded.

Still Theodor Zauber said nothing.

‘
What just happened
?' Nathan yelled at him.

‘The consequences of your decision, that is what happened,' said Theodor Zauber. ‘The gargoyle is now a living creature,
ja
? And like all living creatures, it will do anything to survive. Just as you will. Just as your wife and your son will.'

‘Are you threatening me? You'd better damn well not threaten me.'

‘I am repeating my polite invitation to you to join me in my research, Professor. At the same time I am warning you of what will happen if you continue to refuse.'

Nathan went over to his bedside table and picked up his phone. He punched zero for the operator and waited while it rang. Theodor Zauber remained where he was, watching him, still smiling that slanted, creepy smile.

‘Switchboard? This is Professor Nathan Underhill in ten-twenty-two. Could you send up security, please? I have an unwanted visitor.'

‘
Right away, sir
.'

Nathan folded his arms and stood facing Theodor Zauber. Neither of them spoke. Outside, Nathan could hear shouting and an ambulance siren give a single whoop. Then – after less than a minute, he could hear rubber-soled shoes squelching along the corridor.

‘If you are adamant that you will not help me, Professor, I will leave you,' said Theodor Zauber. ‘But I fear that you will be sorry. We have a saying in German –
ein Unglück kommt selten allein
.'

The door burst open and two security guards came in – a huge black man and a broad-shouldered white man with a shaved head.

‘You got trouble, sir?' asked the black security guard.

‘Yes,' said Nathan. ‘This gentleman is disturbing me. I want him out of here. Now.'

Theodor Zauber gave Nathan a mocking salute and then carefully edged his way past the two security guards and out of the door. He was close enough for them to touch him and yet they didn't seem to be aware that he was there.

The black security guard looked around and said, ‘What gentleman, sir? I don't see no gentleman.'

Nathan gave an exaggerated shake of his head, as if he had just woken up. ‘I'm sorry. I apologize. I must have been having a nightmare.'

The black security guard was about to say something when his radio beeped, and a panicky voice crackled, ‘
Newton
?
You and Bradley'd better get your asses down to the parking lot,
ASAP
.'

‘What's happened?' he asked.

‘It's a nightmare, that's what's happened.'

The two security guards looked at Nathan in complete bewilderment. Then, without saying anything else, they hurried off.

TWENTY

Friday, 6:17 a.m.

B
y the time a wan gray dawn began to smear itself across the sky, Jenna had been at the crime scene for over two hours. She was wearing her thick brown quilted parka and her Ugg boots, but she was still feeling the cold, and she shuffled her feet as she waited for Dan to bring her a cup of hot coffee.

As it grew lighter, the halogen lamps around the parking lot were switched off, one by one, and the crime scene looked less like a movie set and more like the back yard of a South Street slaughterhouse. The remains of the hospital orderly were still strewn across the asphalt, but the forensic team had finished photographing them and marking the location of whatever entrails they could identify.

Dan came out of the rear entrance of the hospital carrying three cups of coffee. He was wearing a droopy khaki anorak and baggy black sweat pants, and his eyes were puffy from lack of sleep.

‘Ed!' called Jenna. ‘Coffee's up!'

Ed Freiburg came over, tugging off his latex gloves. ‘What?' he said. ‘No donuts?'

Dan handed him and Jenna a cup of coffee each and then rummaged in the pocket of his anorak and produced a paper bag. ‘You think I'd forget donuts? That's the first thing they teach you at detective school. Buy coffee. Then buy donuts. When you've finished drinking the coffee and eating the donuts, then – and
only
then – examine the evidence and interview witnesses.'

Jenna popped the lid off her cappuccino and sucked at the froth. ‘This is the exact same scenario as the last three fatalities, yes?'

Ed sniffed, and nodded. ‘Pretty much. He was struck at a steeper angle than the others, but I don't think there's any doubt. I'd say that the back of his shoulders took all of the initial impact. His head flew forward, into the angle between the two buildings, where it was fielded by one of the bicycle racks. The rest of his body was compressed into the ground with such force that he literally exploded.'

‘What about his heart? Did you find that yet?'

‘Not yet. But it's still too early to say for sure. The other vics were hit at such a shallow angle that their internal organs were all strung out in a long line. This guy was
squished
. You know, like hitting a tomato with your fist.

He looked up at the surrounding buildings. ‘I'd say that whatever did this, it came down almost vertical from a considerable height. It would have had to, to build up so much momentum.'

‘So – any preliminary opinions?' asked Jenna. ‘Another one of your homely angels, maybe?'

‘Not saying it was, not saying it wasn't. But it weighed a heck of a lot, and it must have been traveling at close to terminal velocity. Two things for sure, though. A, it was alive, and b, it could fly. If it had been an inanimate object, like a grand piano, or a statue, it would still be here. And if it couldn't fly, it would have been killed or seriously injured on impact, and it would also still be here.' He bit into his donut. ‘
Yecch
, cinnamon. I really hate cinnamon.'

‘It's been proven that cinnamon is good for the memory,' said Jenna. ‘It also relieves arthritis.'

‘I still hate it. I'd rather forget everything I ever knew and have agonizing pains in my knees. Did you interview the witness yet?'

Jenna checked her wristwatch. ‘I'm going to try in a couple of minutes. He was in too much shock when I first tried to talk to him.'

‘Yeah, well, not surprised,' said Ed, looking across at the bloody torso that was lying on top of its folded legs as if it were praying to get its head back. ‘How are you going to brief the media?'

‘Don't know yet. That's up to Captain Wilson. So far we've told them that the two guys who were killed on top of the Nectarine Tower were probably hit by a helicopter, and that James Hallam Junior was more than likely struck by a speeding semi. This guy – I have no idea. But “grand piano falling from the sky” – that isn't a bad suggestion. Squished by a Steinway.'

Once they had finished their coffees, Jenna and Dan pushed their way through the revolving doors into the hospital reception area. One of the hospital administrators was waiting for them – a large, flustered woman in a tight powder-blue suit. She had a wildly fraying bun of dyed red hair and bright crimson lipstick that looked as if she had applied it in the dark.

‘This is so
awful
,' she said. ‘Do you know how it happened yet? It wasn't negligence by the hospital, was it?'

‘No, you don't have to worry about that,' said Jenna. ‘Nobody's going to be suing you for reckless endangerment. How's our witness? Is he ready to answer a few questions yet?'

‘I think so. I'll take you along to the recovery room. If you'll just come with me, please.'

She bustled over to the elevators. Jenna looked at Dan and raised her eyebrows and then they both followed her. As they went up to the fifth floor, the woman lowered her voice and said, ‘
So
. . . do you know how poor Eduardo was killed?'

‘We're working on it,' said Jenna. ‘We have to wait for the ME's report before we can say anything officially.'

‘You can't even give me a
hint
?'

‘I'm afraid not. And we'd rather you left the media to us. There are some details that we don't want to be made public just yet awhile.'

‘Really? Such as?'

Jenna puckered her mouth and said nothing.

‘Oh, of course!' said the woman, pretending to pull a zipper across her lips. ‘Mum's the word!'

She led them into a private room where the surviving hospital orderly was resting on a bed – shoeless, but fully dressed in bright blue scrubs. He was Hispanic, about forty years old, but already balding, even though he had a heavy black moustache and stubble.

‘Hi there,' said Jenna, producing her shield. ‘Detective Pullet, Ninth Division. This is Detective Rubik. Do you mind if we ask you some questions about your friend Eduardo?'

The orderly looked back at her listlessly. ‘I don't see what happen,' he said, hoarsely. ‘It is too dark. It is too quick.'

‘What were you and Eduardo doing, out in the parking lot?'

‘Nothing. Just for fresh air.'

‘We found fresh cigarette butts on the ground. Were they yours?'

‘We are not permitted to smoke in hospital vicinity.'

‘I won't tell anybody if you don't. Were they yours, those cigarette butts?'

‘
Sí,
' he admitted. ‘We go only for one cigarette. We finish them, and we are ready to go back inside. Eduardo is telling me he have fight that morning with his wife. She hit him with a skillet, on his head. And just as he say this, I hear screaming sound,
ow-ow-ow-ow-ow
, and then
bang
!'

‘Bang?'

‘Something is drop on top of Eduardo, and he blow up like bomb. Just blow up,
bang,
and blood is spray everywhere, and his head fly away.'

‘Did you see what this something was, that dropped on top of him?'

The orderly shook his head. ‘I don't know. It is very big.
Enorme. Como una tienda negra grande
.'

‘Like a big black tent,' Dan translated.

‘
Sí
,' said the orderly. ‘Like when a big tent fall down and you are bury inside. I hear screaming sound,
ow-ow-ow-ow-ow
, and also sound like thunder. I feel wind, too.
Woof
, and then
woof
, and then
woof
, and then it is gone, and Eduardo—'

He tried to carry on, but his eyes filled with tears and his lips quivered with grief.

Jenna took hold of his hand and squeezed it. ‘Tell me, that screaming sound, that wasn't Eduardo screaming?'

The orderly shook his head.

‘So a big black tent came screaming down and hit Eduardo so hard that he blew up like a bomb?'

The orderly nodded.

Jenna stood up. ‘Thank you for your help,' she said. ‘You don't mind if I maybe talk to you again when you're feeling a little better?'

‘Of course,' said the orderly. He wiped the tears from his eyes with his hairy forearm.

Jenna and Dan went down to reception, where the hospital administrator was still waiting for them. As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, she came hurrying up to them, her little fists clenched.

‘I thought you ought to know that there was a security alert just before this tragic incident,' she told them. ‘I can't tell you if it was relevant or not, but you never know, do you? Jessica always says that the devil's in the details.'

‘Jessica?'

‘You know. Jessica Fletcher, in
Murder, She Wrote
.'

‘Oh, OK,' said Jenna. ‘Good old Jessica. So – anyhow, what exactly was the nature of this security alert?'

‘One of the patients in the burns unit complained that there was an unwelcome visitor in his room. This was at eleven forty yesterday evening. We sent two of our security guards to check, but when they got there, there was no sign of anybody except the patient himself. He tried to persuade the security guards that he must have been having a nightmare, but they were very dubious about that, because he's a very intelligent man, very rational. They think that there might have been an unwelcome visitor in his room, but for some unknown reason the patient changed his mind and decided not to report it.'

‘And what do
you
think? You watch a lot of
Murder, She Wrote
.'

The woman blinked rapidly. ‘I really don't know. But if there
was
an unwelcome visitor in this patient's room, why was he unwelcome? And how did he get in – because there is no record of any visitors for this particular patient in the visitors' log. More to the point, how did he get
out,
because nobody saw him.'

‘You should have been a PI,' Jenna told her. ‘Can you tell me the patient's name, please? I think it might be a good idea if we go talk to him.'

‘Professor Nathan Underhill. He's in ten-twenty-two.'

‘Underhill? Why do I have the feeling that I've heard of him?'

‘He's a zoologist. Quite famous, as a matter of fact.'

‘All right, then. Let's see what this quite famous zoologist has to say for himself.'

Nathan was already dressed and sitting in his armchair drinking black tea when Jenna and Dan knocked on his door.

‘Professor Underhill?' said Jenna. ‘We're police detectives. Do you think we could have a moment of your time?'

‘Police detectives?' Nathan asked her. He put down his cup and stood up. ‘Does this have anything to do with what happened last night? I heard that somebody got themselves killed, down in the parking lot.'