'Promise?'
'I promise,' she whispered.
His eyes blinked open — and shut again. 'Incentive. That's good. Nevertheless, I'm dying. You have to go.'
'I'm not going anywhere.'
'Yes, you are,' he said, making a great effort to speak. 'I need to tell you what to do. I won't be awake long enough. Get Littlemore. Tell him to take you to a fishing tackle store.'
'What?'
'Break in if you need to. They'll have maggots — for bait. I should have thought of it before. Make sure they're from blowflies. Anything else will eat me alive. Tell the surgeon to open me up where the bullets entered. Cut as far down as he can. Drop the maggots in. Keep the incision open — use clamps. There's got to be plenty of air. Drain the wounds every couple of hours. After three days, clean them out.'
Dr Salvini, chief surgeon of the Washington Square Hospital, initially objected vigorously to the idea of embedding fly larvae to feast next to his patient's heart. But he knew Younger was dying, and in any event Colette gave him no choice.
'Um, what if they lay eggs in there?' Littlemore asked Colette early the next morning, peering at the seething stew in the troughs of Younger's back.
'First we have to hope they clean out the infection,' she answered quietly.
'I know,' said Littlemore, 'but what if the eggs hatch after he's sewed up?'
'They're larvae,' said Colette. 'They can't lay eggs. They only eat.'
'Oh — sounds good,' said Littlemore, swallowing.
How Younger held on over the next forty-eight hours, no one knew. His fever reached a hundred and five. He had no food, nearly no drink. They had to tie him to the bed rails because his convulsions were so violent.
On the third day, his fever broke. When the engorged maggots were flushed out of the wounds, Salvini was astonished to find clean, pink, healthy tissue, with all the necrotic detritus and seepage gone.
They took another set of X-rays. This time, Colette herself computed the depth and location of the bullet fragments — correctly to within a tenth of a centimeter. The bullets had indeed mushroomed, but they were stable and largely intact. Salvini didn't even have to break any more of Younger's ribs to extract them.
The following morning, fresh air and dappled sunlight poured in through the window of Younger's hospital room, the curtains of which were now thrown open, affording a pleasant view of Washington Square Park and its autumnal trees. Younger was awake, propped up by pillows. He had lost weight, but his skin had regained its color, and he could move again.
Colette came in, radiant, carrying a baguette and a paper bag filled with other groceries. 'I found a French bakery,' she said. 'I brought you croissants. Can we live here?'
'Where did you get those diamonds?' he asked, looking at her choker.
Colette shook her head, breaking the baguette. 'These hideous diamonds. I can't get them off. I've even taken my baths with them.'
'I like you in them,' replied Younger. 'I command you to keep them on. Day and night.'
'But I don't want to,' she said. 'Some slave,' he answered. 'Come here.'
She bent to him. Younger reached behind her and — with infuriating male handiness — unclasped the necklace. She kissed his lips. He handed her a telegram brought by Officer Roederheusen from the Commodore Hotel. Colette read it:
26 NOV. 1920
BOY CURED. HAVE BOOKED CABIN FOR HIM S.S. SUSQUEHANNA
ARRIVING NEW YORK 23 DECEMBER IN COMPANY OF YOUR
FRIEND OKTAVIAN KINSKY. PLEASE ADVISE IF THIS PLAN SUITABLE.
FREUD
Chapter Twenty-two
On December twenty-third, in the icy early morning harbor air, below an overcast sky, they stamped their feet — Younger and Colette; Jimmy and Betty Littlemore — and waited for the steamship Susquehanna. Winter had come. A dusting of overnight snow had given New York City a fairy-tale veneer, belied by the heavy, forbidding waters of the port, dotted with skins of fruit and other refuse.
The men stood on the dock. Colette and Betty conversed near the harbor buildings, which sheltered them from the sharp winds. Younger, whose rib cage was trussed in bandages below his suit, asked the detective for the time.
'Quarter of eight,' said Littlemore, rubbing his hands for warmth. 'Where's your watch?'
'Sold it.'
'Why?'
'To pay the hospital,' said Younger. 'And to pay Freud for Luc's ticket.'
'Does Colette know?'
'She knows I'm cleaned out,' said Younger.
'I can top that. Betty and I are packing up the apartment. Had to choose between paying the rent and feeding the kids. I was for paying the rent, but you know women. At least you can make some dough as a doctor.'
Younger smoked. 'You'll go back to the Police Department. You're a captain in Homicide.'
Littlemore shook his head. 'Department s on a payroll freeze. Maybe next spring.'
'Maybe we could rob a bank,' said Younger. 'How's that girl — the one Brighton was keeping prisoner?'
'Albina? Better. Colette visiting with her helped a lot. Want to know how it all started?'
'Sure.'
'There were three sisters — Amelia, Albina, and Quinta. They all went to work for Brighton in 1917. Within a couple years, girls at his factories started taking sick — their teeth are falling out, they're having trouble walking, there's something wrong with their blood.'
'Anemia,' said Younger.
'Brighton knows it's radium, so he builds a kind of hospital room upstairs in his factory where his own doctor would examine them — except it wasn't a doctor; it was Lyme. When that growth first showed up on Quinta's neck, Lyme told her she had syphilis. Brighton magnanimously offered to treat her for free in the infirmary, but Lyme was just doping her up. Amelia was next. Her teeth were coming loose. But she was tough. When Lyme told her she had syphilis too, she knew it was a lie. She went to Albina and told her something terrible was happening. They snuck Quinta out of the infirmary and got the heck out of the factory. Brighton had men all over looking for them. The girls knew it and were scared. So they went into hiding. Amelia took a bunch of scissors from the factory, which they carried around just in case. Then they heard about Colette. They heard she'd been telling people that the radium paint factories were killing people, and they thought maybe she could help them. You know the rest.'
'Why did Albina take her shirt off in front of Luc?'
'After she followed the Miss to Connecticut? It was her skin: her skin was glowing in the dark. She wanted Colette to see it, but the Miss wasn't there, so she showed Luc instead. She was afraid Brighton had men watching for her in New Haven; that's why she ran. She was right too. They caught her and brought her buck to New York, Darn it — I should have known Amelia's tooth had radium in it,'
'Why?' asked Younger.
'Remember how your radiation detector gizmo lit up when you pointed it at me — right at my chest — in front of the hotel?'
Younger saw it: 'I gave you the tooth.'
'It was in my vest pocket,' said Littlemore.
The two men stood silently for some time. 'What about your senator?' asked Younger.
'Fall? He's doing fine. Going to be in Harding's Cabinet. Not Secretary of State — they're going to give him some less high-profile position, but still in the Cabinet.'
'Who says crime doesn't pay?' said Younger.
'He'll pay. I had a look through Samuels's books. I found a hundred- thousand-dollar cash payment from Brighton to Fall; I'll nail him with it sooner or later. But for now nobody can touch him. He's got something on Harding.'
'What?'
Littlemore looked around to be sure they were out of anyone's earshot. 'Harding's got a woman problem. The Republican Party just paid twenty-five thousand dollars to keep one gal quiet. Now there's another girl in bed with him, and only Fall knows about her.'