The Prophet Motive (33 page)

“How many of these neurostimulators are there? And precisely where are they kept.”

“Piper calls them ‘remote controls.’ He’s operated on, I’d say, twenty or so followers. And about a dozen animals. There’s two remote controls made for every person he operates on. Same for the animals. I keep a set, so does Piper.”

Tom identified where the neurostimulators were kept under lock and key on the farm. John scribbled away on the yellow pad.

“Where is Piper now?”

“Last I knew, Mexico. He just bought a new farm outside Sonora. He’s moving down there, at least until things get off the ground, and the heat cools down back in the States.”

“So that’s what the bullfight in Tijuana was all about? It was just a stunt to attract new followers?”

“Right,” Tom said. “He paid off a bullfight official to use his bull. That’s my story.”

“Why Mexico?”

“Piper says lives are cheaper down there, and the cops can be bought off.”

John put the yellow pad and pen aside, and leaned toward Mahorn. “You’re going to help me lure Piper back to the US.”

“No need,” Tom said, “he’ll be on his way back to the California farm anytime now. He may already be there, in fact.”

“You’re sure?”

“Damn sure,” Tom said. “We’ve got Marilyn.”

It was out of habit that L. Rob Piper slipped into green surgical scrubs and sterilized his hands at the sink before stepping to the operating table. For he knew going in that the patient wouldn’t survive. Doctor Fosse and his nurse, Karen, had donned their scrubs too, likely worried about the blood spatter.

From a table tray, he lifted a silver rod with a blade and stared down at the groggy, immobilized, Doctor Michaelsen. “This won’t be a complicated operation. No electrodes to be implanted in your brain, no brain surgery at all. I’m simply going to start cutting pieces off your body until I’m confident that you’ve told me everything you know about my farm, and everything you’ve told anyone else.”

The patient spat in his face. He winced, stepping back reflexively, and dried his eyes when the nurse handed him a small cloth. His cell phone rang in the pants he’d hung up in a nearby locker, and he fumbled for the device.

John brushed his head against Tom’s, sharing air space above the telephone receiver, an old rotary phone, the only one in the farmhouse.

“Yeah, he’s dead,” Tom said into the speaker. “He’s in the woodshed. When Daryl gets back, we’ll drop him in the lake.”

“Good work,” Piper said. “Did you identify Dean’s spy?”

“There wasn’t any spy,” Tom said, glancing at John. “It was all a set-up.”

“I thought so,” Piper said. “I thought so.”

“What about Marilyn? Have you—”

“I’m here with her now. Just about to start the interrogation. In two hours, I’ll know everything she knows, and who she’s told, even if I have to cut her big tits off.”

John yanked the telephone away from Mahorn and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Piper, this is Homicide Inspector John Richetti of the San Francisco Police Department.”

John heard a short gurgle on the other end of the line, followed by a long silent pause. Finally, Piper spoke.

“Hello, Inspector. Welcome back from the dead. What can I do for you?”

“I’m holding Tom,” John said. “And I’m holding in my hand the neurostimulator you built to have me kill Captain Switzer.”

Piper paused again. Meanwhile, John’s mind raced, trying to decide what to say—especially how much to say—to protect Marilyn and also keep Piper on the farm until he could be captured. The key, he decided, was to make Piper think his lucrative business in human-derived products was still a secret, still salvageable.

“Congratulations on your discovery,” Piper said. “What else have you learned that might be of interest to me?”

“Ain’t that enough? You sick bastard!”

“Quite.” Piper paused yet again. “But why tell me in the first place? Now you’ve given me the opportunity to disappear completely. Why, indeed? I can only conclude that you care a great deal for Marilyn’s welfare. So I propose a trade.”

“I’m listening,” John said.

“I propose that you and I meet as soon as possible, here at Natural High Farms. In exchange for Marilyn, I will require Tom Mahorn, Daryl Finck, and that neurostimulator you hold in your hand. That way, you will no longer possess any incriminating evidence against me, other than what’s implanted in your own head, and after I destroy my lab, and send my lab subjects away on, shall we say, extended vacations, there will be absolutely no way for you to link me to my little hobby in a court of law.”

“Deal,” John said.

“Great. One other thing, Inspector. Although it’s extremely unlikely that you’ve had sufficient time to convince those Neanderthals at SFPD about why it is that you’re not actually to blame for the murder of their Captain Switzer, I’m a prudent man, and I prepare for even the slimmest possibility. So if my aerial surveillance of the farm detects any law enforcement presence in the area, I will fly away in my helicopter, the deal will be off, and Marilyn will be executed upon my immediate order. Do you understand?”

“I understand you,” John said. “Now you understand me. I’m showing up armed and dangerous. And if I find that you’ve harmed so much as a hair on Marilyn’s head, deal’s off, and I’m putting a bullet between your eyes, then and there.”

John hung up.

Piper shut off his cell phone and tucked it away. He stepped back to the operating table and stared down at his patient.

“Your inspector’s coming back. For you.”

“For you too,” she said.

Piper eyed his assistants. “Change in plans.”

Immediately, John telephoned his partner, Eddie Bourne, at home in California, rousing him from slumber. The connection was a lot clearer than Eddie’s cobwebbed head.

“Wake up, partner!” John said. “Wake up! Time for you to bring Esperanza Chavez home to her parents.”

“You found her?”

“No, you’re going to find her. I’m going to tell you where to look.” John gave Eddie the location of Esperanza’s body.

“Who gave you the lowdown?” Eddie asked.

“Tom Mahorn.” He shot a look at his prisoner, seated glumly nearby on the sofa, before explaining what had happened, including that he’d be catching up with Daryl Finck the following day, when Daryl returned from an overnight hike. “Now, about Marilyn, Piper’s got her . . .” He shared the terms of the hostage exchange.

“Don’t do it, John, it’s got to be a trap. Sure, Piper wants to take your evidence away, but the best evidence is in your skull, and he’s also got to be interested in salvaging his multi-million dollar operation. I think he’ll try to grab you, then torture you and Marilyn both, to find out who knows what about which of his crimes, hoping—above all else—that his human body farm is still a secret. And then he plans to kill you.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” John said. “He’ll want to capture me first, rather than kill me right away, but I’ll be armed going in, and I think I can get Piper to hand Marilyn over before he has his people attack me, which is when I’ll let him know the perimeter’s surrounded with cops in camouflage.”

Eddie sighed across a continent and an ocean. “Dangerous. Dangerous all around. Piper could have look-outs posted on the outskirts of the farm.”

“True, and if he even sniffs another cop, Marilyn’s dead.”

“You got a gun?”

“No,” John said. “But I can’t take a piece through airport security anyway. You’ll have to hand me one after I get off the plane at LAX. You know the kind I like.”

“Yeah, sure. Glock nine millie. I’ll get you a back-up too, just in case. A little snub-nosed revolver you can hide in your enormous waistband.”

They hashed out the details for the hand-off of the firearms. It had to be done slyly so as not to draw the attention of airport security and because Daryl Finck had to be left in the dark. Unlike Tom, Daryl was a true follower of The Wizard. If he learned of the hostage exchange prematurely, he might turn on John at any time, trying to make himself a star in The Wizard’s eyes.

“Hate to tell you this,” Eddie said, “but we can’t go through with this plan unless a few problems are ironed out first. The biggest one is your fugitive status. I showed the CAT-scans of your brain to the DA. Had him talk to Doctor Jones too. But he’s not buying it just yet. Wants to see the actual hardware first, and interview an expert in neuroscience. So right now you’re still a wanted man, John. Very wanted. Your face has been all over the airwaves.”

“Luckily,” John said, “no one is looking for me over here in Europe, and I have a false passport, courtesy of Tom Mahorn. But by the time I touch down at LAX we need to have the problems behind us. You’ve got approximately thirty hours, depending on when Daryl Finck comes down from the mountain, to find Esperanza Chavez, have her autopsy performed, have the coroner show the DA the transmitter and the electrodes taken from inside her head, and have this plan of ours approved at SFPD.”

“I’m on it,” Eddie said. “But what if the brass refuse to authorize our plan? It’s a strong possibility, you know, considering what you’ve been through, and the fact that you’re on suspension from the force.”

“In that case, lie to them. Tell them I lost Daryl Finck, and I’m searching for him in Europe. I’ll do the hostage exchange all by myself. Meanwhile, I’ll count on you to stall any action by the brass.”

“Too risky, you going in without any back-up but me.”

“That’s just the emergency plan. Prob’ly won’t come to that. Because I’ve got confidence you’ll be able to convince the brass I’m okay, convince them this plan is going to work.”

“Are you really feeling okay?”

John hesitated. He recalled spacing out in Nastia’s Renault, and a few times during the flight to Europe. “You tell them I’m one hundred percent.”

“That’s not technically an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’ll get.”

“I don’t think Doctor Jones is ready to agree you’re one hundred percent.”

“Don’t worry,” John said. “Remember what Marilyn told us. The cops never really listen to the mental health professionals.”

They hung up. By the time Nastia returned, John had instructed Tom to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, excepting that The Wizard had phoned, directing Tom, John, and Daryl to fly to California as soon as possible. Nastia arranged the flight reservations by phone, building in ample time for Daryl to come down from the mountain with the others.

Tom never left John’s sight. After lunch, they wandered through the barn together until John located an old coil of rope. Then the pair retired to an upstairs bedroom in the farmhouse. John locked the door and used the rope to strap Tom’s arms and legs to the frame of one of the beds before choosing his own bed. But, as pooped as he was, he found sleep difficult to come by.

Could Eddie really pull everything off in time? How was Marilyn holding out? And what insanely ingenious scheme would The Wizard throw at him this time?

Jonestown, Guyana, November 18, 1978

John was perched on Tony’s shoulders while they waited in line on the landing strip to board their plane. There were two planes for the visitors, and John was going back to America with them because he really wanted to and because Tony had a court order, whatever that was, and it said he could take John home, even though Susan didn’t want him to, and Susan wasn’t leaving. John had cried and cried to make her change her mind, but it was no use. She still believed in Father and his lies. So did everybody in Jonestown but John and a few others.

Congressman Ryan had already boarded and could be seen sitting by a window. John decided he would vote for him when he got big.

“
What’s going on?” Tony asked as a truck barreled toward them. Suddenly, the air crackled with rifle fire. John tumbled to the ground, falling on top of a woman already missing half her skull and shaking like her finger was in a light socket. Shots came from inside one of the planes too and visitors poured out of it, only to be shot by the men from the truck. Tony was on his knees, grunting, and holding his stomach. He’d been shot too.

“
Run, John! Hide in the jungle! And don’t come out until they’re gone! No matter what! You understand?”

“
You come too!”

“
As soon as I can. Now go!”

John’s tears hardly let him see as he ran. He plowed into some tall grass before looking back. Tony hadn’t moved from his spot, and one of Father’s men ran up and shot him in the head and Tony fell over.

They’d sat in coach together for more than half a day, all told, using four different jet planes. During the first leg, between Ljubljana and Frankfurt, Germany, John had sat by Tom, with Daryl out of earshot across the aisle, and quizzed him some more about what Piper called his remote controls.