Sergeant MacDonald leaned over Delaney’s chair.
“He’s freaking, Captain?” he whispered.
“We’ll see. We’ll see. Pull up a chair, sergeant. Stay close to me for a few hours.”
“Sure, Captain.”
The black sergeant pulled over a wooden, straight-backed chair, sat at Delaney’s right, slightly behind him. He sat as solidly as the Captain, wearing steel-rimmed spectacles, carved face immobile.
So they sat and waited. So everyone sat and waited. Quiet enough to hear a Sanitation truck grinding by, an airliner overhead, a far-off siren, hoot of tugboat, the bored fifteen-minute calls from Ten-0 and Bulldog One. Still no sign of Danny Boy. Delaney wondered if he could risk a quick trip to the hospital.
Then, shortly before noon, a click loud enough to galvanize them, and Bulldog One was on:
“He’s coming out! He’s carrying stuff. A doorman behind him carrying stuff. What? A jacket, knapsack. What? What else? A coil of rope. Boots. What?”
Delaney: “Jesus Christ. Get Fernandez on.”
Fernandez: “Fernandez here. Wearing black topcoat, no hat, left hand in coat pocket, right hand free. No glove. Knapsack, coil of rope, some steel things with spikes, jacket, heavy boots, knitted cap.”
Delaney: “Ice ax?”
Barbara: “Bulldog One, ice ax?”
Fernandez: “No sign. Car coming up from garage. Black Chevy Corvette. His car.”
Captain Delaney turned slightly to look at Sergeant MacDonald. “Got him,” he said.
“Yes,” MacDonald nodded. “He’s running.”
Fernandez: “They’re pushing his stuff into the car. Left hand still in coat pocket, right hand free.”
Delaney (to MacDonald): “Two unmarked cars, three men each. Start the engines and wait. You come back in here.” Fernandez: “He’s loaded. Getting into the driver’s seat. Orders?”
Delaney: “Fernandez to trail in Bulldog Two. Keep in touch.”
Fernandez: “Got it. Out.”
Captain Delaney looked around. Sergeant MacDonald was just coming back into the room.
MacDonald: “Cars are ready, Captain.”
Delaney: “Designated Searcher One and Searcher Two. If we both go, I’ll take One, you take Two. If I stay, you take both.”
MacDonald nodded. He had taken off his glasses. Fernandez: “Barbara from Bulldog Two. He’s circling the block. I think he’s heading for the Castle. Out.”
Delaney: “Alert Tiger One. Send Bulldog Three to Castle.” Fernandez: “Bulldog Two. It’s the Castle all right. He’s pulling up in front. We’re back at the corner, the south corner. Danny Boy’s parked in front of the Castle. He’s getting out. Left hand in pocket, right hand free. Luggage still in car.” Bulldog Three: “Barbara from Bulldog Three.”
Barbara: “Got you.”
Bulldog Three: “We’re in position. He’s walking up to the Castle door. He’s knocking at the door.”
Delaney: “Where’s Tiger One?”
Fernandez: “He’s here in Bulldog Two with me. Danny Boy is parked on the wrong side of the street. We can plaster him.” Delaney: “Negative.”
Barbara: “Negative, Bulldog Two.”
Fernandez (laughing): “Thought it would be. Shit. Look at that…Barbara from Bulldog Two.”
Barbara: “You’re still on, Bulldog Two.”
Fernandez: “Something don’ smell right. Danny Boy knocked at the door of the Castle. It was opened. He went inside. But the door is still open. We can see it from here. Maybe I should take a walk up there and look.”
Delaney: “Tell him to hold it.”
Barbara: “Hold it, Bulldog Two.”
Delaney: “Ask Bulldog Three if they’re receiving our transcriptions to Bulldog Two.”
Barbara: “Bulldog Three from Barbara. Are you monitoring our conversation with Bulldog Two?”
Bulldog Three: “Affirmative.”
Delaney: “To Bulldog Two. Affirmative for a walk past Castle but put Tiger One with walkie-talkie on the other side of the street. Radio can be showing.”
Fernandez: “Bulldog Two here. Got it. We’re starting.”
Bulldog Three: “Bulldog Three here. Got it. Fernandez is getting out of Bulldog Two. Tiger One is getting out, crossing to the other side of the street.”
Delaney: “Hold it. Check out Tiger One’s radio.”
Barbara: “Tiger One from Barbara. How do you read?” Tiger One: “T-One here. Lots of interference but I can read.”
Delaney: “Tell him to cover. Understood?”
Barbara: “Tiger One, cover Lieutenant Fernandez on the other side of the street. Coppish?”
Tiger One: “Right on.”
Delaney: “Bring in Bulldog Three.”
Bulldog Three: “They’re both walking toward us, slowly. Fernandez is passing the Castle, turning his head, looking at it. Tiger One is right across the street. No action. They’re coming toward us. Walking slowly. No sweat. Fernandez is crossing the street toward us. He’ll probably want to use our mike. Ladies and gentlemen, the next voice you hear will be that of Lieutenant Jeri Fernandez.”
Delaney (stonily): “Get that man’s name.”
Fernandez: “Fernandez in Bulldog Three. Is the Captain there?”
Delaney bent over the desk mike.
Delaney: “Here. What is it, lieutenant?”
Fernandez: “It smells, Captain. The door to the Castle is half-open. Something’s propping it open. Looks like a man’s leg to me.”
Delaney: “A leg?”
Fernandez: “From the knee down. A leg and a foot propping the door open. How about I take a closer look?”
Delaney: “Where’s Tiger One?”
Fernandez: “Right here with me.”
Delaney: “Both of you go back to Bulldog Two. Tiger One across the street, covering again. You take a closer look. Tell Tiger One to give us a continuous. Got that?”
Fernandez: “Sure.”
Delaney: “Lieutenant…”
Fernandez: “Yeah?”
Delaney: “He’s fast.”
Fernandez (chuckling): “Don’ give it a second thought, Captain.”
Tiger One: “We’re walking south. Slowly. Fernandez is across the street.”
Delaney: “Gun out?”
Barbara: “Is your gun out, Tiger One?”
Tiger One: “Oh Jesus, it’s been out for the last fifteen minutes. He’s coming up to the Castle. He’s slowing, stopping. Now Fernandez is kneeling on one knee. He’s pretending to tie his shoelace. He’s looking toward the Castle door. He’s-Oh my God!”
Daniel Blank awoke in an antic mood, laughing at a joke he had dreamed but could not remember. He looked to the windows; it promised to be a glorious day. He thought he might go over to Celia Montfort’s house and kill her. He might kill Charles Lipsky, Valenter, the bartender at The Parrot. He might kill a lot of people, depending on how he felt. It was that kind of a day.
It took off like a rocket: hesitating, almost motionless, moving, then spurting into the sky. That’s the way the morning went, until he’d be out of the earth’s pull, and free. There was nothing he might not do. He remembered that mood, when he was atop Devil’s Needle, weeks, months, years ago.
Well, he would go back to Devil’s Needle and know that rapture again. The park was closed for the winter, but it was just a chain-link fence, the gate closed with a rusty padlock. He could smash it open easily with his ice ax. He could smash anything with his ice ax.
He bathed and dressed carefully, still in that euphoria he knew would last forever.
So the chime at his outside door didn’t disturb him at all.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Package for you, Mr. Blank.”
He heard retreating footsteps, waited a few moments, then unbolted his door. He brought the long, white florist’s box inside, relocked the door, He took the box to the living room and stared at it, not understanding.
Nor did he comprehend the single red rose inside. Nor the card. Albert Feinberg? Feinberg? Who was Albert Feinberg? Then he remembered that last death with longing; the close embrace, warm breath in his face, their passionate grunts. He wished they could do it again. And Feinberg had sent him another rose! Wasn’t that sweet. He sniffed the fragrance, stroked the velvety petals against his cheek, then suddenly crushed the whole flower in his fist. When he opened his hand, the petals slowly came back to shape, moving as he watched, forming again the whole exquisitely shaped blossom, as lovely as it had been before.