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.The wound was so deepthat it had severed both of the common carotid arteries and the external andinternal jugulars, virtually decapitating him.Mr.Pudd had then stabbed Al Zthrough the back of the head with a long, thin blade, which punctured hiscerebellum and sliced into his cerebral cortex.Finally, using a small, verysharp knife, he had made an angled incision about three quarters of the way upthe middle finger of Al Z's right hand and sliced off the top joint.I learned this not from theHerald, but from Detective Sergeant McCann whorang me on my cell phone as I sat at Rachel's breakfast table reading thenewspapers.Rachel was in the bathtub, humming Al Green songs out of key. Guy had some balls, taking out two men in a public place, commented McCann. There are no cameras on the fire exits, so we got no visual apart from yourdescription.Some guy in the loading bay took the license; came from an Impalastolen two days ago in Concord, so zilch there.The killer had to gain accessto the VIP lounge using a key card, so we figure he came prepared with one hemade himself.It's not that hard to run one up, you know what you're doing.AlZ went to every first night he may have been a mean, crooked son of a bitch,but he had class and he always sat in or near those seats, so it wasn't toodifficult to guess where he'd be.As for the missing finger joint, we'reguessing it's a calling card and we're checking VICAP for equivalent MOs.He asked me if I remembered anything else from the previous night I knew itwasn't simply a courtesy call but I told him that I couldn't help him.Heasked me to stay in touch, and I assured him that I would.McCann was right; Pudd had taken a huge risk to get to Al Z.Maybe he had nochoice.There was no way to get at Al Z in his office or his home, because hewas always surrounded by his people and his windows were designed to repelanything smaller than a warhead.At the theater, with Tommy behind him andPage 111ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhundreds of people around him, he could have been forgiven for feeling secure,but he had underestimated the tenacity of his killer.When the opportunitypresented itself, Pudd seized it.It struck me that Pudd might also be tying up loose ends, and there were onlyso many reasons why someone felt compelled to do that.Primary among them wasas a preparation for disappearance, to ensure that there was nobody left tocontinue the hunt.My guess was that if Pudd chose to vanish, then nobodywould ever find him.He had survived this long even with a price on his head,so he could evaporate like dew after sunrise if he chose.Something else bothered me; it looked like bugs weren't the only things thatPudd liked to collect.He also wanted skin and bone, removing joints andsections of skin from each of his victims.His taste in souvenirs wasdistinctive, but Pudd didn't strike me as the kind of man who would mutilatedead bodies just so he could put the pieces in jars and admire them.There hadto be a better reason.I sat at the breakfast table, the newspapers now abandoned, and wondered if Ishould simply turn over all I knew to the police.Not that what I knew was agreat deal, but the deaths of Epstein, Beck, Al Z, and Grace Peltier were allconnected, linked either to the Fellowship itself or to actions that Grace'sbiological father, Jack Mercier, was taking against it.It was about time fora serious face-to-face talk with Mr.Mercier, and I didn't think that eitherof us was going to enjoy it very much.I was about to pack my bag inpreparation for my return to Scarborough when I got my second call of themorning, and from a not entirely unexpected source.It was Mickey Shine.Caller ID could only tell me that the number he was calling from was private,and concealed. You see the papers? he asked. I was there, I told him. You know who did it? I think it was our mutual acquaintance.There was a silence on the other end of the line. How did he find out aboutyour meeting with Al? He may have been keeping tabs on us, I conceded. But it could also be thathe was aware of Al Z's interest in him for some time, and that myinvestigation precipitated a course of action he'd been planning for sometime. He had learned from his pets that if something starts tugging at thefarthest reaches of your web, then it's a good idea to find out what thatmight be and, if you can, to make it stop. You weren't out at your apartment last night, I continued. I checked up onyou. I left town as soon as I heard.Somebody called me about Al's death, afriend from way back, and I knew it had to be Pudd.Nobody else would daremake a move like that against Al Z. Where are you? New York. Think you can lose yourself there, Mickey?Page 112ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html I have people down here.I'll make some calls, see what they can do for me. We need to talk some more before you disappear.I get the feeling youhaven't told me all that you know.I thought he would demur.Instead, he admitted:  Some I know, some I'm justguessing. Meet me.I'll come down to you. I don't know. Mickey, are you going to keep running from this guy for the rest of yourlife? That doesn't sound like much of an existence. It's better than being dead. He didn't sound too sure. You know what he's doing, don't you? I asked him. You know what the threatof being  written means.You've figured it out.He didn't reply immediately, and I half expected to hear the connection beingended. The Cloisters, he said suddenly. Ten tomorrow [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]