Angel of Death. Christian Russell

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СКАЧАТЬ met a man who fools himself by pretending he honors the human species.’” Pollux stood up to leave.

      “There’s still twenty minutes to go,” McGerr said.

      Pollux gave him a compassionate look. “You can use it to woo your receptionist. I’m afraid this hasn’t been a very fruitful session for either of us. Should I say ‘See you’? Actually, I think I’d better say ‘Good-bye.’ I’m afraid your schedule will be so tight the next few weeks you won’t be able to squeeze me in.”

      He saw through me, the doctor thought. Am I that obvious? God, that was fast! Meanwhile, Thanatos had taken a few steps toward the door then turned to face the doctor. ‘Maybe the meek shall indeed inherit the earth...but not before the powerful have had their way with it!” He went out but his presence, heavy, almost surreal, lingered in the room.

      Alone in his office, McGerr tightened his fists. On the blank chart carrying only the name of Pollux he wrote ‘demophobia.’ He recalled the marsh fever incident and added ‘possibly drepanocytosis’ or ‘thalassemia’ in a subclinic stage. ‘Heterozygote?’ Then he realized it had actually been their last session. A humiliating one for him at that. He crumpled the paper and threw it into the basket in the far corner of the room with a dexterity even Patrick Ewing would have envied.

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      Friday, October 16

      Mark was at his desk frowning at some papers that he had just received. Three days after the Majestic attempt, they had finally managed to trace Edward Druller. That was one way of putting it, for the NYPD had actually found his body burnt almost beyond recognition. His car had fallen into a precipice near Newark airport. The Ford had caught fire and Druller with it. At least those were the preliminary results. As soon as they had been able to examine his remains properly, they had found a nice bullet hole in his skull. Who had executed him and why? Anyway, his fault had been too big to let him live on.

      Now Mark was impatiently waiting for the forensic’s report hoping for more details. All of a sudden the door was pushed open and Sean Paulardis came in triumphantly in his well-known navy blue outfit.

      “Hi, everyone!” he said and made his cowboy hat land on his desk. “Your hero’s back, my friends. My hand got numb giving all those autographs. But for you, I’m willing to put in some extra effort.”

      “Save your scribbling,” Steimberg cut him short while hugging him. Mark did the same.

      “How about you, Mary?” the Greek turned to the woman. “Is that your way of welcoming a hero?”

      The girl gave him half a smile. “Welcome, Sean. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

      “Not a very warm welcome, I’m afraid,” Paulardis said. “Well, that’s it! Tell me something, though: is there any chance my making the front page of The New Yorker might affect your option for the Halloween ball?”

      Mary shook her head firmly. And to avoid further discussion on the topic she asked. “Does anyone know if there’s any coffee left in that machine in the hall?”

      No one answered her as the much longed-for Dr. Milles and Kurren had just come in through the door. Milles went straight to Mark’s desk with a bundle of papers in his left hand while Kurren greeted O’Gavin cheerfully.

      “Hi, Mary. Let me tell you I’ve got three choices for the outfit: a vampire, a mummy, or a ghost. Which would you prefer?”

      The young woman didn’t have time to answer as Sean cut in. “But you don’t need to wear an outfit for any of them, Burt! Go to the ball the way you are. As for Mary, I suggest you keep your charm away from her. If you don’t, I might get upset!”

      “Really? And what might that do to me?”

      “I don’t know,” the Greek answered, “maybe some massive irradiation coming from about a dozen X-rays.”

      Kurren looked at Mary and saw her flushing, lowering her head into her hands. He was almost ten inches taller than Paulardis so he drew close and reprimanded him. “You’ve got a big mouth, Sean, did you know that?”

      “Yeah, I did. Actually, everything I own is big!”

      Mark sprang to his feet and positioned himself between the two roosters.

      “Calm down, boys! The fact that ‘cute little Mary’ works on my team is no reason why you should turn this office into a battleground. Women do that sometimes, start conflicts. First it was Helen of Troy, now it’s Mary of Poplar Bluff. I’m sure she’d love to smack you both right now. Come on, shake hands!”

      The two shook hands somehow reluctantly. Mark took Kurren to the door and told him. “Burt, take my advice and choose your costume yourself. That’ll show you’ve got personality and women just love that in a man.” Then he returned to his desk. “Sorry for wasting your time, doctor. Let’s hear what you’ve got for us.”

      “Hmm. Not vey much, I’m afraid. Druller was shot with a .9 mm Beretta, a recoilless gun, with a fifteen-bullet magazine, the kind pros use. No carbon monoxide in his blood. No soot at the ends of his trachea. He was dead when the Ford caught fire.”

      “Have you identified him properly?” Mark asked. “Are you absolutely sure it’s Eddie Druller?” He was intrigued by the fact that the car had had a full tank and two big cans in the trunk. It looked as if, by burning the car, the killer had wanted to make his identification impossible.

      “Yes. First of all he had his papers on him. Several unburned fragments have been recovered. The police also showed pieces of his clothes to some neighbors who identified them. I looked for his dentist and got his X-rays. We took our own set. The lower jaw one is a perfect match. We found about fifty points in common. And you only need twenty for a positive identification. That’s about all I can tell you, Mark.”

      Meanwhile Paulardis had managed to pull a file from under the doctor’s arm and was looking through it, a pervert’s grin on his face. “Good-looking naked chicks,” he said. “What about them, doc?”

      “It’s for the Vice guys. Some hookers, kidnapped and molested.”

      While he was still looking at the pictures, Sean asked Steimberg. “Arty, got any nude pictures of your wife?”

      “’Course not, you, maniac.”

      The Greek pretended to look closer at one of the pictures. “And wouldn’t you like one?”

      Everyone in the office was silent. Obviously this time Sean’s humor had gone too far. Dr. Milles recovered his file and left the office, embarrassed. Steimberg drew close to Paulardis and looked at him sadly and spitelessly.

      “You shouldn’t have said a thing like that, Sean. The woman you’ve just offended is a mother. The mother of three wonderful children. When you meet a girl you want to care for, when you understand a baby’s more than a sperm spurt, well, then you’ll see how stupid your joke is and how much it can hurt. I’m going out for a breath of fresh air,” Arty said and left the office.

      Mark frowned at Paulardis. “What the hell is wrong with you today, man? As far as I can remember you were shot in the shoulder, not in the head. Give me one good reason for doing that!”

      “But it was just an innocent joke,” СКАЧАТЬ