“Well, what the hell,” Mackey said. “Sit down, Henry, we got a little longer to wait.”
Henry sat on the sofa, and Mackey said to Parker, “So he needed to know what was happening, because nothing’s coming out of the ADA’s office, and I told him, the story is, she flipped, won’t sign a complaint, won’t identify Brenda. So he’s mad, he says once she’s flipped it over, they gotta let Darlene go, they gotta let Brenda go, they gotta take a time-out break with coffee and danish. So what he’s going to do, he’s going to the judge, talk to the judge in chambers, say what’s with the delay with this witness, I need to know what’s going on here. He’ll try to get the judge to raise the question to find out what’s going on with the alleged witness, and of course once he does find out the cat’s out of the bag and Brenda’s out of the Fifth Street station. The judge is not gonna let them browbeat Darlene forever just because she flipped.” Mackey shrugged. “Anyway, that’s the theory,” he said. “I mean, some time today they’re gonna have to give up, we know that. It’s just we’d rather it was sooner.”
“Poor Darlene,” Henry said.
Mackey looked at him. “Brenda isn’t having that good a day, either, pal,” he said.
11
This was a variant on the Stockholm Syndrome. They hadn’t planned to hold Henry captive, hadn’t planned an encounter with Henry at all. But here he was, and once he was here he couldn’t be permitted to just wander off. And his presence would put extra pressure on Darlene to do things right, and not have some sort of mess break out at home.
So they had to spend time together, some hours together, not knowing when or how it would end. Parker kept aloof, but didn’t do anything to increase Henry’s nervousness; he was tame, let him alone. Mackey was aggressively chummy with him, because that was Mackey’s style, to be a pal with a hint of threat inside there. And Henry played his Stockholm part, too, which was to befriend his captors as much as possible, keep them feeling relaxed about him, prove himself useful when and where he could.
Like lunch. At twelve-thirty, still no phone call from Brenda, no follow-up from Li, Henry broke a long silence to say, “I know this house, I could — If you want, I could make sandwiches. Darlene usually has cold cuts, cheese, things like that.”
“That’s a very good suggestion, Henry,” Mackey said. “We all want to keep our strength up, and you want to keep yourself occupied.”
So all three transferred to the kitchen, where Parker and Mackey sat at the table while Henry made sandwiches and a pot of coffee. Henry hesitated for a second before sitting with them, then went ahead, pretending he felt natural about it, and Mackey grinned at him, saying, “You make a good sandwich, Henry.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not so sure about this coffee, though.”
Apologetic, Henry said, “Darlene and I like it strong. It’s espresso mix.”
“Huh. I thought I liked it strong, too.” He sipped, thought about it, said, “Okay, maybe.” Turning to Parker, he said, “What do you think of it?”
“It’s good coffee,” Parker said.
“Okay, then.” Mackey grinned some more at Henry. “It’s good coffee,” he told him, and they finished their lunch in silence.
It was while Henry was doing the cleanup that the phone rang again. Parker said, “Henry, turn off the water,” as Mackey moved to the kitchen wall-phone. Henry turned off the water and faced the room, back against the sink, hands folded at his crotch.
Mackey got to the phone as it started its second ring: “Yeah?” A big smile creased his face, this one without the usual hint of menace. “So there you are! Where are you? He got nice offices? Yeah, I thought he would. You’re not calling from his phone, are you? Across the street, outdoors, that’s even better. So you’re loose now?” Mackey was looking at the clock on the wall, which read almost one-thirty. He said, “So what I think you oughta do, you oughta go back to the hotel and check out, maybe check out at two-thirty, and take a cab to the airport. Okay? Check out at two-thirty, and take a cab to the airport. See you soon, baby.” He hung up, and said to Parker, “Li finally levered her out of there.”
“They’ll tail her,” Parker said.
“Oh, sure,” Mackey agreed. He didn’t seem troubled. Turning to Henry, he said, “Henry, would Darlene have a local map here?”
“I’m not sure,” Henry said, with an uncertain look at the kitchen. “I’m not usually here, we have another—”
“Oh, the place at the dance studio!” Mackey said. “Very nice apartment, we saw that.”
Henry surprised everybody, including himself, by blushing. As he touched shaky fingertips to his cheek, he said, “I’ll see if she has maps here.” And did a lot of bustling through kitchen drawers until he got over his embarrassment.
And he did finally come up with a city map, that included downtown, where Brenda was, and Rosetown, the suburb where they were right now, and the airport, west of the city, not far from Stoneveldt. Parker and Mackey sat at the table to study the map while Henry finished at the sink. They didn’t speak, but pointed out to each other Brenda’s route and their own. As they were folding the map again, the phone rang. Looking at it, on the wall, Mackey said, “No. We don’t expect any more calls. Henry, where’s the answering machine?”
“In the bedroom.”
Parker stood, saying, “Come along.”
Henry obediently followed, and the three moved into the bedroom, as the phone continued to ring. They stood in the bedroom, looking at the answering machine on the bedside table, and it clicked, and they moved closer during Darlene’s outgoing message. It ended, there was another click, and they listened to Darlene again; much more frantic than on the recording: “Is anybody there? Oh, God, somebody be there!”
Parker reached for him, but before he could grab him Henry had picked up the phone: “Hi, Darlene.”
“Henry!” They all heard her because, since Henry hadn’t pressed the stop button, the machine was still recording the conversation. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sure, everything’s fine. Are you coming home now?”
“Have they gone?”
“Shit,” Mackey said.
Parker said, fast, into Henry’s ear, “I’m alone, come home.”
“I’m all alone here, Darlene,” Henry said. “Everything’s fine. Why don’t you come home? We don’t want to discuss this on the phone.”
“Just so they’re gone, that’s all I ask.”
It was hopeless. Parker said, “End it, Henry.”
“I have to hang up now,” Henry said. “Hurry home, Darlene.” And he hung up. Turning away from the phone, he said, “I did my best.”
“We know,” Parker said.
12
Mackey said, “Henry, wherever she made that call from, somebody was listening.”
Henry shook his head. He was ready to apologize for her: “She’s not used to this—”
“No time, Henry,” Mackey told him. “Cops are on their way now. We don’t want to talk to them, and neither do you. Go out that front door, walk do not run to the nearest store, call a cab, go home. Goodbye, Henry.”
Henry blinked at them both. Parker said, “Now, Henry.”
They followed him through the house to the front door. Henry opened it, paused, and Mackey said, “No goodbyes. Go.”
Henry left. They watched through the front window as he strode briskly to the sidewalk and turned left. Their problem was, they couldn’t leave until he was away from here because they didn’t want him to know what they were driving. In case he didn’t evade the law himself, he shouldn’t know that.