Read The Bannerman Effect (The Bannerman Series) Online

Authors: John R. Maxim

The Bannerman Effect (The Bannerman Series) (32 page)

BOOK: The Bannerman Effect (The Bannerman Series)

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“But you're not defending. You're attacking. Wesley Covington wants no part of what is yours. That's where we separate, Mr. Manley, and that's what will kill you. All Covington wants is to be left in peace.”

“Which, I take it,” Manley said, “is all that Paul Bannerman wants?”

“That's all. Yes.”

“Who would believe that, Mr. Bannerman?”

“Try, Mr. Manley.” He closed the door behind him.

_-20-

Lesko was fighting sleep. Which was aggravating. Also dumb.

The whole idea was to sleep all the way to Zurich. Which is why he popped a shot of Nyquil as soon as he strapped into his seat. Then two glasses of champagne, which you get, he assumed, so you'll feel less stupid about paying three times as much for a first-class ticket. Not that he paid. Ban-nerman did. Probably gets them free.

Then two vodka tonics before dinner. Which comes with wine. By the bottle. Then some cognac afterward, which by this time you're spilling down your shirt. Because you're nodding off. Which he'd already done twice. Which would have been okay except he was also dreaming. The first dream has Elena in it. She doesn't even know him. He goes and knocks on her door and says how glad he is to see her and she looks at him funny—like she's trying to place him—and then she sort of remembers but she really couldn't give a shit so she says take a walk and she closes the door.

Next came Katz. Saying I told you so.

*'I mean, ”
says Katz,
‘‘would you want to see you again?

Back in the hospital was one thing. She was all doped up.
Hitler could have walked in and she'd say how's it going,
heard you were dead.

“
You're alsoaputz, Lesko. Bannerman says go and you go.
You know why? You think he gives a good goddamn about
you making it with Elena? And he's not going to call you
from wherever those shooters are, either. Because, for one
thing, he knows that after Elena dusts you off you're not
going to be interested anymore anyhow. Meanwhile he gets
you out of his hair. What do you think he's doing right now?
Packing? Bullshit. He's back there screwing your daughter's
brains out, that's what he's
—
”

Lesko had swiped at him. Head snapping up. Brandy glass sent flying. Flight attendant came running. It's okay. Sorry. Just a dream. No harm done.

Except Lesko didn't want to sleep any more. Almost five hours to go. He didn't want to spend them seeing Elena's face, looking at him like he's a turd on the sidewalk, slamming her front door on him. And he sure didn't want to spend even five minutes of it taking any more crap from Katz. You'd think a first-class plane ticket would keep out the riffraff. The only first class Katz ever saw was when he made PFC.

Maybe the movie would keep him awake. He doubted it-It was an old one.
Field of Dreams.
About this farmer who builds a baseball diamond in his cornfield and a bunch of dead ballplayers show up to play on it.
That's all I need,
Lesko thought.
More ghosts.
He couldn't watch it anyway. The Nyquil. Just a lot of colors swimming around and his eyes getting heavy.

“
Hey, Lesko?”

“
Leave me alone, ”
he murmured.

“
Are you really gonna do this?”

“
I'm warning you, David
—”

“
Just tell me.”

“
One more word about Susan and you're going out that
window. ”

“
What? What'd I say?”

“
About her and
—” He chewed his lip.

“
About her with Bannerman? Hey, dummy. That wasn't me. It was you. ”

“
It was you, ”
Lesko snarled.
“Just before, ”

“
No way. I just got here. But I heard it.”

Lesko's head jerked.
“What do you mean, you just got
here? From where?”

”
I don 't know. I never remember. ”

“
You weren't here an hour ago? Before the movie?”

”
I got a flash for you, Lesko. There's a whole lot of times
when you think I said something and I didn't. It's you. I don't talk about Susan that way You shouldn't either.”

Lesko showed his teeth. But he kept them clenched.

“
And anyhow it's none of your business. She's all grown
up. It's her life.”

“
That's your idea of a life? With a guy like Bannerman?”

“
You with Elena is better? At least Bannerman didn't kill
your partner. What kind of loyalty is that?”

“
Things change, David. ”

“
Not that much.”

“
She's different now. She's clean. And you're dead. These
are fairly big changes. ”

Katz glowered but said nothing. He turned his face away. Which at least, thought Lesko, was back in one piece. If the schmuck was going to keep showing up, Lesko supposed, it was better he looked more presentable than when his brains were running down the inside of his windshield.

“
Wait a second, ”
Lesko's chin bobbed up.
“If that wasn't
you before, how do I know this is you now?”

“
You listen, that's how. If what you hear is really shitty, you know it's you. ”

Lesko ignored this last.
“Was that you this morning?”

“
When?”

“
You came in with Danish. Like you used to. ”

“
Oh, yeah. I got mixed up. ”

“
Why? What were you doing there?”

“
I'm your partner. Remember?”

“
You're not my partner. You're dead. And if you weren't
dead you 'd be up in Sing Sing right now getting corn-holed by everyone you ever busted up there because you were a fucking
thief”

Lesko heard a sound from the window seat. Like a catch in the throat. He turned. Katz's face was lit by the screen. Tears welled in his eyes.

”
0h, Chri—Now what?
^”

“
You're such a prick, Lesko.
^”Katz hid his face.

A loud sigh.
“David,
^”he shifted uncomfortably.
“Okay,
I
⁹m sorry.
^”

No answer.

“
What do you want from me? Just tell me.
^”

”
I want us to be partners. Like before.
^”

“
David
—
you're dead.
^”

“
You keep saying that.
^”

“
David, this is crazy,
^”said Lesko, not unkindly.
“Maybe
it
⁹s me who's nuts. I
⁹m sitting here talking to you. I know
you're not there. I know you're not real
—
”

“Sir?” A woman's voice. Distant.

“
So? Then what difference does it make?
^”

“Sir? Mr. Lesko?” It was closer. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“
Lesko?
^”Katz's voice was fading.
“What could it hurt?
^”

Lesko lifted his head. The stewardess. Leaning close. Kneeling. Another woman, two rows forward, tuming and glowering at him, fingers to her lips, shushing him.

“Huh? What?” he blinked.

“You were talking in your sleep.”

“Right. Yeah. I'm sorry.”

“Can I get you anything?” she asked. “How about some coffee.”

«No—Yeah. Coffee's fine.”

“Right away.” She walked briskly toward the galley.

Lesko rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the window seat. Then up to the screen.
Field of Dreams.
Shoeless Joe Jackson walking off the field. Into the dense corn. Back to where he came from. Fading into it. The cornstalks never moved. And the window seat was empty.

“God damn you, David,” he whispered.
But maybe you're
right. What could it hurt? And maybe you're also all I got.

Bannerman had decided on a team of five. It would mean, he realized, leaving Westport thinly defended but, with luck, most would be back before their absence could be noticed.

He and Billy would travel as a unit. They would fly to Lisbon, from there to Malaga. That would leave them less than an hour by car from Marbella. Carla Benedict would

head the second unit, arriving by a different route. She would fly to Madrid, connect at Seville, then make her way south by train.

He'd chosen Carla reluctantly. She was good, no question, she was fluent in Spanish, and her appearance was such that she would blend nicely among the fading showgirls and minor actresses that were drawn in great numbers to the resort towns of the Mediterranean. But Carla liked to improvise—sometimes to good effect, as when she gambled on intercepting Lurene Carmody, but just as often to bad effect, as when her gamble left Gary Russo in a situation for which he was not trained. That was the other thing. Russo. This was personal with Carla. She would want to be the one to avenge him. If she saw the opportunity she would strike, regardless of her assigned role, regardless of the plan. Ban-nerman had shared his concern with her. She had promised to behave. Be a team player. And she had begged for the chance. Bannerman had relented. But now, her team already there—they had left even before Lesko—Bannerman's misgivings still nagged at him. Asking Carla to be patient was like asking a cat to ignore a crippled bird.

The third unit, their backup, was John Waldo. Waldo worked best alone. His job was to arrange alternate escape routes, cover their retreat, create diversions if necessary, and to acquire weapons, which should be waiting for him by the time he and Billy arrived.

Would be waiting,
Bannerman corrected himself. John never missed. Goes in, does his job, disappears. No one ever remembers seeing him. Like a ghost compared to ... what had Susan called her? Oh, yes. Calamity Carla.

Susan.

She had taken it well. That he must suddenly take a trip. Two days, three at the most. She'd asked no questions. She seemed to know that he was waiting to see if she would. But except for an awkward silence here and there, a staring into space, they had passed the evening as any other couple might. A quiet dinner. A walk, afterward, down to the water's
edge.
The stars were bright. She taught him the names of some. She pointed to Regulus in the southwestern sky. It was in her sign, she told him. She was a Leo. His sign, Aquarius, was opposite, far away. Somewhere down by Pegasus. It could be seen, she said, only when her sign could not. Then, as if this had meaning to her, came the longest of the silences. They walked back from the beach, they held each other, and, once again, they made love through the night. There would be time enough to sleep during the flight to Lisbon.

He'd found himself wanting to tell her where he was going. Even why. To let her know that he trusted her. But there were the others to think about. He had no right to trust her with their lives. She assumed, he felt sure, that he was off to Zurich. That phone call from Urs Brugg. Better to leave it at that. But she hadn't even asked that much. She asked only, that morning, that he call her if he could. Talk about the weather. Anything at all. Just so she'd hear his voice. He said he would try.