Thorpe lunged across the room and thrust his fingers down West’s throat. West bit down hard and Thorpe screamed, drawing two bloody fingers out of West’s mouth.
West chewed the hair and let out a long sigh, then his body convulsed for a few seconds. He lay still, his tongue protruding and his eyes wide open. The bitter-almond smell of cyanide drifted from his mouth and nostrils, causing Thorpe to move quickly back. “Oh… you son of a bitch! You did it! You bastard… Nick… Nick!”
Thorpe moved cautiously closer to West and examined the small bald spot on the top of his head where the hair implant had been. “I’ll be goddamned. What the hell won’t they think of next?”
Eva stared at the body.
Thorpe thought a moment, then said, “Well, I won’t underestimate you again, Nick.” He watched Eva as she flexed the whip. He could tell she felt cheated, frustrated. He said, “Whip him.”
She looked at him with wide eyes. “What?”
“Whip him. There’s a drug that reproduces the effects of cyanide, but only causes a deep coma.”
She nodded and raised the whip, slashing a deep wound across West’s lower back.
Thorpe stepped forward and examined the wound. There was no sign of blood circulation. “Damn it!”
Eva stared at Thorpe, an accusing look in her eye, which gave way to bewilderment. “I do not understand… the hair…?”
Thorpe gave her a sharp look. “Yes, you stupid cow. Cyanide suspended in artificial hair. Have you ever heard of that?”
“No.”
Thorpe sat down and rubbed his forehead. “Oh, Christ.” He glanced up at Eva. “We checked his teeth, anus… nostrils… pipe and tobacco… didn’t you check his hair?”
She nodded. “With a comb and ultraviolet light. But I noticed nothing.”
Thorpe licked his lips. “Goddamn it. We’re in trouble.”
“Me? You are the interrogator. You are the one who released his arms the first time, causing all this…” She waved her arm around.
Thorpe nodded and wiped a line of perspiration from his upper lip. He thought a moment, then said, “But you wanted his upper torso and arms free for the whipping. You said you liked to see them thrash around… try to cover their back and head with their arms, bite their knuckles…” He looked at her. “This was your show.”
She swallowed. “Well… yes… but…”
Thorpe seemed deep in thought, then he looked up at her. “Actually, Eva, what happened is this — while I was gone, you released his arms and chest, turned him over, and began whipping him, against my orders. He couldn’t stand the pain and committed suicide—”
“No! It was you!” She realized the danger she was in, and took a step back. She shouted, “No! Do not kill me!” She dropped her whip and put her arms out in a protective gesture.
Thorpe stood, drew his revolver, and aimed it at her face, then fired at point-blank range.
Eva’s head snapped back and her arms shot out as she backpedaled, trying to regain her balance. She fell, then as Thorpe watched, incredulous, she got to her feet.
Eva stood with both hands covering her face, as though she were weeping into them, but instead of tears, blood flowed through her fingers. “Oh… oh… what has happened?”
Thorpe stepped up close to her and examined the exit wound behind her ear; a mass of blood, grayish fluid, and splintered bone and cartilage. He realized the shot had been badly placed. “Oh, shit!” He considered putting another bullet in her head, but that would look amateurish to the people who would have to dispose of the body.
Eva sank to her knees, one hand over her eye, the other now behind her ear, squeezing the entry and exit wounds in a vise. The blood was running down her neck and arms, dripping onto the floor.
Thorpe looked at the trail of blood on the floor and realized he would have to mop it up himself. “Christ, woman, die!”
“Help me. Please… who has done this? West has done this… ”
Thorpe laughed. “Poor Nicko, gets the blame for everything.”
Eva remained on her knees, but showed no sign of dying soon. She moaned, “West has tricked us… We will tell Androv…”
Thorpe smiled again. “I have my story for Androv. You can give him yours when you meet in hell.” Thorpe pulled her to her feet, and half carried her across the room. He reached out and unlatched a thick steel door, opened it, and stood her inside a butcher’s freezer. He hefted her up and snagged her dress on a meat hook, then released her.
Eva hung a few inches from the floor, her legs twitching and her arms flapping. Thorpe wiped his bloody hands on the hem of her dress.
He stepped back and glanced to the right. On another hook hung the frosty-blue body of Randolph Carbury.
Thorpe said to himself, “Getting crowded in here.” He turned and went back to the gurney, retrieved West’s body and carried it to the freezer, dumping it on the floor.
Eva was moaning softly, “Oh, my God… do not leave me here with the dead… ”
Thorpe stepped out of the freezer and slammed the door shut. “Well, it’s just one of those days… ”
He surveyed the dimly lit garret, then checked his watch. “Time to go jogging.”
39
Abrams and Katherine emerged from the BMT station at Fort Hamilton Parkway and ran north, entering the five-hundred-acre Prospect Park along South Lake Drive.
Abrams breathed in the cooler, cleaner air of the heavily treed park. The terrain features had been created by the last Ice Age terminal moraine, and that, coupled with heavy plantings, offered a diversity of landscape and hiding places. But Abrams knew every inch of the park and knew where the surprises could be expected.
They turned north on East Lake Drive, ran up Breeze Hill and past the boathouse, and approached the zoo, set in an expanse of gardens. They slowed to a walk on the steep rise called Battle Pass Hill and stopped on the hill’s summit.
Abrams looked west into the Long Meadow, a sweep of grassland that could pass for a rural valley. Katherine looked north and west into an open area called the Vale of Cashmere, covered with resting migratory birds. She said, “This is a good spot to take a break. Good all-around view.” She sat on a patch of grass and caught her breath.
Abrams knelt beside her, wiping the perspiration from his face with his sleeve.
She said, “I think this is the spot where Washington’s command post was during the Battle of Long Island.”
Abrams nodded. “He picked a good place to keep an eye on the muggers.”
She smiled, then looked around. “I don’t see any muggers… There’s a fair-sized holiday crowd.”
“Right. I don’t think Thorpe likes crowds. Let’s take the subway back to my place.”
She thought a moment, then said, “Let’s finish the park.”
Abrams fell back on the grass. “The park will finish me.”
“You’re doing fine. You shouldn’t lie down.”
He didn’t answer, but looked up silently and watched the sky. After a few seconds he said, “I’ve seen that helicopter before.”
She looked up and watched a small gray helicopter disappear to the north. “Yes. I’ve seen it before too.” She stood. “Let’s go. You’ll get muscle cramps.”
Abrams got slowly to his feet. “I think I liked masquerading as an old man better than this.”
“We’ll walk awhile,” Katherine said.
They began following the path down the long hill. She said, “That may have been a police helicopter.”
“Possible. But I don’t recognize the model. They use Bell copters. That was something else.”