Saboteur: A Novel (10 page)

Rodriguez was going to be furious.

Chapter 21

Rodriguez and Sullivan sat outside Tierney’s office like
sullen school children waiting to see the principal. It wasn’t like in the
movies though; no chairs were flying. Tierney’s office was almost morbidly quiet
and they could see the back of Tackett’s head through the blinds. Every few
minutes he simply nodded or shook his head. It worried Sullivan. Anger would
have been better. He thought of Tackett’s comment about Tierney. It wasn’t his
style to lose it and move on. There would be real consequences. Rodriguez sat
rubbing her hands together looking like a young boxer nervously waiting for a
fight.

“What’s going down in there?” he
said to break the tension. “That’s the calmest ass-tearing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, this ain’t good,” she said.
“Motherfuckers. I was in there not twenty minutes before, my ass would be toast
right now.

Who’d do a thing like this?”

“That’s a great question. We all
have enemies around here, but none of them this motivated, or this sophisticated.
You’re on 1032 right?” she said without looking up.

Sullivan nodded.

“There ya’ go. That case is fucking
cursed my friend. Maybe you should go back East man, seriously. I never saw
anything like it.”

“Not my style. Now I’m in it for
the long haul I’m afraid. A man has to have principles,” he said shrugging.
“And if you don’t like those I have others.”

Just then the door opened and
Tackett walked out silently.

“Call you later,” he said walking
past without stopping to speak. “You two get in here” came Tierney’s voice.
“Close the door. Where to begin? First, I’m glad you’re both ok. Second, what
the hell were you thinking keeping a secret like that from a superior? By
rights I could send you both packing for insubordination. Your sergeant saw fit
to explain that neither of you knew that I was unaware of this little secret of
yours. That’s happy horseshit and you know it. That’s why he’s suspended,
indefinitely.”

“Sir, if I--” Rodriguez and
Sullivan both erupted at the same moment.

“Save it.” Tierney said
unemotionally, raising his hand, “I went through the academy with Tackett. He’s
a good man, but his decision to put personal loyalty above professionalism is
why he has spent his whole career as a sergeant. He lied to me and I can’t have
that. There are things bigger than friendship, believe it or not.

As I just explained to you,” Tierney said pointing at
Sullivan, “I can’t support you if I don’t know what the hell you’re up to. You
have now put me in a position to either lie to my superiors or give this
department another black eye, not to mention the press a week’s worth of free
shit slinging at our expense. Are either of you up to the task of making that
call? Huh? Wanna go outside and explain to the press what happened at our
secret flop-house.” Tierney looked genuinely anguished and his voice was now
almost a whisper.

“You put everyone’s ass on the line when you lie. You’ll
both answer to Sheppard now. He’s you’re acting sergeant until further notice.
If you lie to him, I can assure you’ll be finished in law enforcement.”

“Permission to speak frankly, Sir.”

“If it’s about my son I’d suggest
you mind your fucking good southern manners, Detective Sullivan.”

“No, sir. It’s about honesty. Don’t
you think I might have been told about case 1032, the truth that is? My ass has
certainly been hanging in the wind, wouldn’t you say?”

“You have as much information as
any other detective would get on that case. I didn’t want to contaminate your
thinking by pretending the case is something that it may or may not be. Let me
tell you something else, Danny Fleming had himself a little
chica
south of the border and a cocaine
habit, so he may or may not have disappeared because of this case. I knew him
well. He was pretty depressed guy when his NFL days ended. Maybe only being a
cop wasn’t good enough for him in the end.” Tierney paused. “You remember the
Sherlock Holmes fella’ I was telling you about, Sullivan?”

“Yes, he was a figment--”

“Holmes says it is a capital mistake
to make prejudgments about a case. You let the evidence guide you and you
follow wherever it leads. When you start telling yourself goddamn fairytales
before you’ve even seen the evidence. You’d both benefit from reading a goddamn
book once in a while.”

Sullivan and Rodriguez bowed their
heads.

“The kid should be processed by
now. Go find out what if anything he remembers about this tourist of yours.”

“Yes sir.”

“And one last thing: Joe Tackett is
not an active member of this department. If he attempts to call or contact you,
he is to be ignored. Sharing information with him about this case is out of the
question. Understood?
Yes
sir, are the words you’re
looking for.”

“Yes sir.”

Rodriguez and Sullivan walked out
silently. They waited until they were at the end of the hall before Rodriguez
spoke.

“Goddamn, I hate that prick
sometimes.”

“Let’s go talk to this kid.”

“Yep.” Sullivan was looking at his
phone.

“What the hell you doing,” she said
annoyed that he wasn’t paying attention.

“Downloading the Cliff’s notes of
this fucking Sherlock Holmes ass hole.”

“Ah man you’re too much.”

“By the way,” he said, “the house
wasn’t a complete loss.” He handed her the half burnt picture of Miss November
from his pocket. All that remained was from the waist down.

“Rachel Arias,” she said without
flinching. “Very nice equipment. Likes sunsets, wine, and curling up with a
good book. Turn offs: jealous men and cigarette smoke. She’s still pretty hot,
even without a face wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes I would,” he said arching his
eyebrows, “Yes, I would.”

Chapter 22

Downy propped his feet on his desk. It was Thursday already
and he had no courses to teach and a clear schedule, which was ideal. He had
much to do. He still needed to get ahold of Diba Jan. He was certain she would
have answers, but not ones he wanted to hear. His buzzer rang.

“Professor?”

“I’m here, Janine.”

“There is a Mr. Tannehill here to
see you, says it’s an important matter. I have him waiting in the lobby. He
seems a bit—well--”

“You mean Professor Tannehill?”
There was a long pause on the other end.

“Yes, sir.”

Downy could tell Janine was
flustered. Tannehill had been Charlie’s friend really, a professor of Physics
from Oxford no less and a bona fide nut job. The academic community had largely
written him off after he had attempted to publish work that was apparently all,
or largely based on junk science. He and Charlie had seen him have a full
meltdown at a conference in Prague some years ago. It had effectively ended his
career. What on earth could he want now Downy thought, and why would he come to
him? They’d barely even spoken to one another.

“Janine, you can send him in. Buzz
me in ten minutes for an important call, just in case.”

“Ok.”

 
He looked at the phone and thought of Diba
Jan. Tannehill limped into the room, favoring his left leg. The man looked
positively ill. His hair had gone snow white since the last time he’d seen him,
not to mention eyes that glared with what Downy could only call an unnatural
zeal. His face was beet red.

“Please, professor, don’t get up on
my account.” Downy did love the British accent, especially in men Tannehill’s
age. It was an older England he came from.

“Professor, I haven’t seen you in
years.”

“I’m sure I am no less easy on the
eyes than ever.” he said almost apologetically. “To quote my father, if I’d
known I was going to live this long, I might have taken better care of myself.”

Downy laughed sympathetically.

“You on the other hand don’t look a
day older than what I can remember. You must have been barely a boy though,
when Charlie plucked you out of that grimy bar and made you a household name.
And look at you now.”

He remembered immediately why no
one could stand Tannehill. His brusque manner put everyone off, though Charlie
had always seen fit to put a positive spin on his seemingly rude behavior.
Tannehill seemed to notice that the comment had stung a bit.

“I’ve read your books professor and
you are quite deserving of the mantle. If I didn’t know better I’d say you and
old Caesar were drinking buddies, maybe Antony too. An amazing imagination you
have.”

There it was again. He wasn’t a
historian then; he was good at making stuff up. “Thank you.”

“I’m sure you must be trying to
understand why I am here.” He didn’t give Downy a chance to respond before
continuing. “I know my reputation precedes me wherever I go, but please
understand these common place insults have no effect whatsoever. I am quite
beyond all that now, I assure you. I have no need for the approval of so called
21
^st
century academia. I will perhaps build my own university one
day, where my ideas can be better understood and appreciated, if
time
permits.”

Downy nodded and smiled politely.
He had no idea how to respond. “Could I offer you a coffee or glass of water?”
he said trying to change the subject.

“Oh yes, water would be lovely.”

He rose pouring from the cooler in
the corner. He handed the glass to Tannehill who finished it as if it was the
last water he would ever get. He watched him gulp away in stunned silence.

“Perhaps one more would be ok. I
have traveled a long distance to be here and I’m afraid I have underestimated
my thirst.”

“Sure,” he said getting up again,
pouring him a second. The fervor with which he drank suggested something more
like madness. Streams of water ran down the sides of his mouth and he started
to choke a little, coughing erratically.

“This mortal coil, eh?” he said.

Downy looked at his intercom,
praying that Janine would ring early.

“I am here on a social visit only,
Professor Downy, call it a courtesy call; and to tell you what you must already
perceive to be true.”

“Charles Patterson,” Tannehill said
leaning forward with a wide-eyed stare.

Downy sat back in his chair. His
pulse quickened.

“I believe one Samara Patterson has
visited you of late. I’m certain she has told you of her own suspicions.”

He had Downy’s complete attention
now.

“The poor girl, Samara. So
beautiful. Her fate is most upsetting of all to me. I can assure you it is not
of my doing.”

 
“I don’t follow. Is Samara in some kind
of danger?”

“Samara believes her father’s death
was something else entirely, and about that at least she is quite right.”

 
“Do you have some information about
Charlie’s death?”

“Oh, I don’t know what happened
exactly, but he’s gone, in a purely physical sense, here at least.”

Tannehill looked nonchalantly at
his fingernails. “I have no information that a man of your intellect would
accept, I’m afraid.”

Downy’s buzzer rang. “Professor, I’m
so sorry to bother you but you have a very important call on line two.”

“Janine, tell them I'll call back.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know that in almost every
single office I have visited over the past eleven years a sudden, urgent call
has come through for the person I’m speaking with? It’s ok, I would think me a
madman myself if I didn’t know better; I’m quite used to being thought unworthy
of attention, in these hallowed halls anyway.”

Downy smiled sympathetically.

“Do you know how the universe is
arranged professor? It’s just like your computer there, except infinitely
more vast
of course. Eternities of code spreading out in all
directions. Just numbers really. If you have a correct name and address, well
you can call almost anyone.”

It was odd, at times Tannehill
seemed like he was talking in riddles, pure nonsense, but at other moments he
seemed absolutely lucid and clear.

“I’m sorry my knowledge of physics
is limited Dr. Tanehill.”

“No mind, I wonder, Professor
Downy, have you ever read Dicken’s
Christmas
Carol
?”

“Sure, a long time ago.”

“I feel just like the ghost of
Christmas past sitting here in your office. You will be visited by three
ghosts,” he said putting on a spooky voice. “Actually there’s no such thing as
ghosts, but for you it will certainly seem so. Old dear friends, long gone, now
ghosts.” Tannehill looked around the room at the pictures on the wall.

“My dear friend Charlie,” he said
looking at the shot of them all on set together in Rome, almost mumbling. “He
was kind to me through it all, you know? The only one.” Tannehill reached into
his pocket pulling out what looked like a sugar cube, putting it to his tongue.
Forgive an old man his need for sugar. I am in the advanced stages of the
illness.”

“I’m not sure quite what to say,
unless you know something important,” Downy said.

“Say nothing. I thank you for your
hospitality and if you talk to Samara Lee Patterson, as I’m sure you will, you
need not trouble her with the wild apparitions of this old has been. I wish the
best to both of you. Before I leave though I have something I want to give you.
It’s a gift, I suppose.” The old man reached into the satchel at his feet and
pulled out a piece of rolled cloth. “I imagine you may be able to appreciate
the value of such a thing more than most.” He sat the object on the desk as he
stood up, grimacing in some pain. “It’s this hip of mine, and the other and on
and on. Old age takes from us far more than it gives. You needn’t worry about
it though professor, you are young yet.”

Downy leaned forward.
“Ahh--I would prefer if you open it later. I know you will do your due
diligence, to verify its authenticity.”

The old man hobbled out the door
limping without a word. He could hear him asking Janine for another water,
which he drank as before. Downy watched through the blind as Janine’s
expression morphed from curiosity to disgust. He finally walked into the lobby
once he had gone. Janine looked at him perplexed.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“I wish I knew.” he said, “I wish I
knew.”