Ghost of a Chance

28 The Relation

Danny had already been bundled into a police car bound for the hospital when Alex emerged from the museum’s basement with Leroy Cunningham in tow. Cunningham was a skinny blonde kid with spectacles who looked barely out of his teens. Despite being held for a week in the old subway, he didn’t seem much the worse for wear.

“I can’t say enough how grateful I am, Mr. Lockerby,” he said for the third time in his mild, West Virginia drawl. “I thought for sure they’d just leave me tied up in the dark when they left.”

Alex didn’t say it, but he didn’t doubt Leroy was right. He guessed that Jimmy Cortez intended to use that box of explosives on the ceiling to cover their escape once they’d looted the vault. That would have buried Leroy under several tons of rock.

“Don’t mention it, kid,” Alex said, trudging across the museum lobby toward the bank of phones near the door. “How did they know about you, anyway?”

“I grew up with Benny Hanes,” Leroy explained. “He’s one of those guys. He worked in the Coledale mine; that’s how they knew how to dig tunnels, but he didn’t know much about shoring them up.”

“And he knew you lived here in the city,” Alex said.

Leroy didn’t answer, but nodded.

That had been the last missing piece of the puzzle for Alex. With Jimmy Cortez leading the crew, it was a cinch how they’d got onto Barton’s traction motor, but Alex hadn’t been able to figure out how they’d picked Leroy Cunningham, draftsman, as their mining expert. It was a small detail, but Alex felt better for knowing it.

“Give me a minute,” Alex said, stepping into one of the booths and fishing a nickel out of his pocket. “I need to make a call, then we’ll call your wife.”

“She is okay, right?” Leroy said, worry blooming in his voice. “They said they had someone watching her and that they’d hurt her if I gave them any trouble so I… I just went along.”

Alex grinned at that. Leroy was a good kid, the kind who wouldn’t jaywalk, and the idea of being part of a heist didn’t sit well with him, even when he had no choice.

“You did the right thing,” Alex said, dropping the nickel into the phone. “Hannah’s fine. I got her stashed at my secretary’s place for safekeeping.”

Leroy closed his eyes and sighed, his body starting to tremble as the pent-up stress of the last week finally broke. Alex clapped him on the shoulder, then turned back to the phone and gave the operator the number of the brownstone.

“Iggy,” Alex said when the old man picked up. “I need you to get over to the Mount Sinai Hospital quick, Danny’s been shot.”

“I’m sure the doctors there will take good care of him,” Iggy said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Alex said. “Well, I took a bullet to the hand, but it’s not too bad. Shield runes stopped the rest, but that’s not the point. Danny got hit three times, twice in the side and once in the arm. Before they took him away, he said he couldn’t feel his fingers.”

“Possible nerve damage,” Iggy said. “He’ll need a major restoration rune; how long has it been since he was shot?”

“About ten minutes, so you’ll need to get going.”

“All right,” Iggy said. “But I want you to meet me over there, so I can take a look at your hand, understand?”

Alex grinned.

“Yes, sir. I’ve got to let Leroy talk to his wife, and then we’ll be right over.”

“I’m glad you found him,” Iggy said in his gruff, official-doctor voice. “I want to hear all about it later, but for now, get going.”

He hung up and Alex fished his last nickel out of his pocket. He called Leslie and told her to bring Hannah over to the hospital, then passed the phone to Leroy so he could assure his wife that he was fine.

Alex couldn’t help grinning as he listened to Leroy try to calm his wife. He’d dreaded the thought of having to tell Hannah that he’d been too late. Now he could feel the knots in his neck and shoulders finally loosening.

“Well, hello,” a familiar voice said. “You sure seem to turn up in exciting places.”

Alex looked up to see the young reporter with the dimple and the brown suit approaching.

“What happened here?”

Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to deal with the press. He’d had enough of that over the last week. Still, if this reporter was here, there were bound to be others.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who shows up where they’re not expected, Mr. — ?”

The young man smiled and stuck out his hand.

“Tasker,” he said. “Billy Tasker.”

A surge of anger ran through Alex at the name. This little punk was the reporter causing him all the trouble with the police.

“You’re Tasker?” Alex said, stuffing his anger down into his gut. He shook the man’s hand but couldn’t manage a smile. “What’d I ever do to you?”

Tasker’s smile actually faltered, like he had no idea what Alex was talking about.

“I do a lot of work for the cops,” Alex explained. “You made it look like I’m some kind of crime solving genius and they’re my bumbling lackeys.”

A slow smile spread across Tasker’s face and he shrugged.

“Isn’t that pretty much how it works?” he asked in an amused voice. “The cops get in trouble and then you lead them around town till you solve their case?”

“You followed me,” Alex said, remembering when he first met Tasker. “That’s how you knew about the trucks.” He’d been on his way out of the Central Office to meet Danny when Tasker accosted him. Later that day, the story about his leading Danny and the cops to the factory full of stolen trucks appeared in the Sun.Tasker shrugged again.

“I saw you meeting your cop friend, the oriental, over at Gino’s,” he said. “When you left, you looked like you knew where you were going, so I followed. Worked out pretty good for me.”

Alex wanted to strangle the smug fool, but he thought better of it. Tasker used him, but maybe he could return the favor.

“I’ll tell you what,” Alex said. “Not only will I tell you exactly what went down here tonight, but I’ll get you an exclusive interview with someone who was on the inside.”

“If—?” Tasker asked, catching the conditional nature of Alex’s invention.

“Two things,” Alex said, holding up his fingers. “First, you keep my name out of it — no mention of the runewright detective.”

Tasker nodded.

“Your loss, but okay. What’s number two?”

“You give the credit to Captain Rooney and his men.”

“Rooney’s a clown,” Tasker said, displaying insight beyond his years.

“Those are my terms,” Alex said. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

“All right,” Tasker said with a sigh. “It won’t be as much fun, but I do like scooping the Times. Now spill it.”

“First, why did the Times fire you?” Alex asked, remembering the reporter’s history.

Tasker looked genuinely surprised.

“They didn’t like a story I had,” he said.

“And they fired you?”

“I wouldn’t let it go,” he admitted. “Still won’t.”

“What story is worth that?”

“A personal one,” Tasker said, attempting to change the subject.

“No, you don’t get off that easy,” Alex said. “What’s so important that you give up a job at the Times to go to work for a rag like The Midnight Sun?”

Tasker looked like he was going to object again, but changed his mind.

“You’re involved in the ghost killer case, right?” he asked.

“I’ve been asked to consult about a few things,” Alex said, choosing his words carefully.

“Well you’ve got that case all wrong,” Tasker said. “Everybody, you, the cops, the papers.”

“And I suppose you know who’s doing the killing and how?” Alex didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

“No,” Tasker admitted. “But I know who’s behind it, the reason that the ghost is killing. The ghost is after Nancy Banes.”

Alex almost laughed, but the look on Tasker’s face silenced him. He still needed the young reporter’s cooperation on the museum heist story.

“So you’re the one who has it out for the Mayor’s wife,” he said. “What’d she do to you, have a cop give you a parking ticket?”

The look Tasker gave Alex told him that the young reporter had something bigger and much more personal against Nancy Banes. Without a word, Tasker reached into his jacket and came out with a folded piece of paper.

“This is a letter from Nancy Sinclair, now Nancy Banes, to a man named Duane King,” he said, unfolding the papers so Alex could see official looking letterhead. “I have two more, but this is the one where she tells Mr. King that his land isn’t worth the price of the taxes owed on it. She lied to him so that she could steal his land. That’s why the ghost is killing people who used to work in the Suffolk County Assessor’s office at the time she did.”

“Where did you get that letter?” Alex asked. According to Leslie, Randall Walker hadn’t found any correspondence in his records.

“My mother sent it to me a few days after Duane King died in a fire,” Tasker said. “That’s when I got the job with the Times and moved up here.”

Alex felt gooseflesh rise on his arms as everything clicked into place.

“Tasker is your mother’s name,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“So?”

“So you’re Duane King’s grandson,” Alex said. “King’s son got a girl pregnant and skipped town. That girl was your mother.”

Tasker raised his eyebrows at that, but nodded after a moment.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” he said. “My dad came back for a few years when I was a kid before he took off for good. That’s when I decided to go by Tasker.”

Alex could fill in the rest of the story without any trouble. Billy’s dad gave the letter to his mom as proof that they were heirs to some great fortune that had been stolen from them. and then he went off to reclaim it and never came back. Tasker’s mom had probably told Billy that fairy tale while he was growing up, how his dad would someday come back, how they’d all be happy and rich. Now little Billy was trying to get some justice for his mother.

“You’re wrong,” Alex said. “About the Mayor’s wife, I mean. She didn’t have anything to do with cheating Duane King out of his land.”

“Her signature is on this letter,” Tasker said, waving it in Alex’s face.

“Of course it is,” Alex said, trying to keep his voice soft and friendly. Contempt at this point wouldn’t serve anyone. “Nancy Sinclair was Seth Kowalski’s secretary. He was the assessor, and the man behind defrauding Duane King. All Nancy did was handle his correspondence.”

“How do you know that?” Tasker asked. “You’d have to get access to the records from the assessor’s office and the old bastard who runs that place doesn’t let anyone see those.”

“Unless you’ve got great legs,” Alex said with a grin. He then explained about Kowalski and the others in North Shore Development and how they had stolen King’s land and used it to build their fortunes.

As Alex talked, Tasker’s face went from disbelieving to shocked and finally to confusion.

“Then who’s the ghost?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” Alex lied. “But if I find out, I’ll let you know.” Alex held up his bandaged hand. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go to the hospital; do you have a car?”

Tasker nodded.

“You can tell me that exclusive story on the way,” he said.

Alex turned to Leroy who was saying, “I love you” to his wife over and over on the phone.

“Time to go,” he said. “Leslie will bring her to meet you over at the hospital.”

Alex left Leroy in the lobby of the hospital with Billy Tasker eagerly taking notes on his story of kidnapping and tunneling into the museum’s vault. Leslie and Hannah were on their way in, but he’d promised to go see Iggy first thing and his hand was really starting to hurt.

“There you are,” Iggy’s voice assaulted him when he reached the surgery floor.

Alex turned to find the doctor bearing down on him.

“What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” Alex said. “I stumbled on a break in the ghost case.” He held up his hand so that Iggy could examine it. “How’s Danny?”

“It’s not good,” Iggy said. “I got here in time to use the rune but the fool doctor in charge tried to stop me. I had to get rather insistent.”

Alex smiled at that. He’d seen Iggy upset a few times and the man was a force of nature.

“He’s sleeping now,” Iggy continued. “The doctors will keep him sedated until the nerves in his arms have time to regrow. Shouldn’t take more than a few days.”

Alex sighed, and his hand started to tremble from pure stress relief; he’d been under a tremendous load the last few days, and with Danny out of the woods, daylight was beginning to glimmer.

“Danny would have been much worse if it weren’t for you,” Iggy was saying as he peeled the bandage off Alex’s hand. “That was quick thinking, getting him down like that.”

“Wish I’d been faster,” Alex said.

“How many bullets hit you?”

“Besides this one,” Alex said, trying to wiggle his fingers and wincing at the pain it caused. “I counted four.”

“Danny’s lucky,” Iggy said. “Four more bullets and he’d have lost too much blood before he ever got here. The surgeon who pulled the other three out of him said it was touch and go for a few minutes.”

Alex just nodded with a mixture of pain and relief.

“Come with me,” Iggy said, leading Alex into a small examination room.

Under the bright lights, Iggy studied Alex’s wound. The hole where the bullet had hit him was still leaking blood, but he couldn’t see daylight through it, so that was something.

“Does this hurt?” Iggy asked, raising Alex’s ring finger.

Purple dots swam in Alex’s vision and he bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

“Figures,” Iggy said, shaking his head. “The shot messed up some of the little bones in your hand. I can fix that, but it will take a few weeks. A major restoration rune could have handled it, but you took too long getting here.” He seemed a bit miffed about that. “Fortunately for you, bones can be regenerated.”

Iggy produced a piece of chalk and drew a door for his vault on the wall. A few moments later, he had it open and was leading Alex through. He spent the next ten minutes painfully injecting Alex’s hand with all manner of syringes that all seemed to have square needles and be filled with acidic liquid. While he worked, Alex told Iggy about the events at the museum.

“Did you get a look at Jimmy Cortez’ rune book?” Iggy asked.

Alex shook his head.

“The cops took all that stuff,” he said. “But Callahan told me I could see it on Monday at the Central Office.”

Iggy pulled out his green-backed rune book and tore a standard regeneration rune from inside. Sticking it to the wet blood on the back of Alex’s hand, he reached for his lighter and his face fell.

“Damn,” he said. “I left it on my nightstand.”

Alex chuckled and pulled the silver lighter out of his own pocket.

“This came in real handy tonight,” he said, passing it over.

Iggy carefully lit the rune paper, leaving a pulsating blue rune behind, hovering in the air for a moment. It vanished suddenly in a shower of blue sparks that settled down on the back of Alex’s hand. As he watched, the ragged tear began to shrink as the skin knitted itself back together. After a minute, the only sign of the wound was the blood on his skin and the ache in his hand.

“Drink this,” Iggy said, shoving a vial of sickly green liquid into Alex’s good hand.

Alex drank and handed it back. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad.

“That’ll keep it from getting infected,” Iggy said. He took out some narrow strips of thin wood and broke them into short lengths.

“So, was Barton happy?” Iggy asked as he began to wrap Alex’s hand, using the splints to keep the palm from moving.

“Yes,” Alex said, his voice a bit sarcastic. “His motor was fine.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“The thieves didn’t break through the wall until after midnight,” Alex said. “That means I lost our bet and he doesn’t owe me anything.”

Iggy raised an eyebrow.

“He said that?”

Alex nodded.

“Said if he made an exception, everyone he did business with would think he could be played.”

“Sorcerers,” Iggy declared, shaking his head.

Alex agreed.

“Now don’t try to use that hand for at least a week,” Iggy said. He’d wrapped Alex’s palm tightly using the wood splints to keep his fingers from moving, then looped a cloth sling over Alex’s head.

“Thanks, doc,” Alex said as Iggy went to the sink to wash up. He picked up the lighter, intending to return it to his pocket, but it slipped from Alex’s fingers and clattered to the floor. Alex just sat there, staring at it.

“What’s the matter?” Iggy said, returning from the sink. “Alex, are you all right?”

Alex nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face. He hopped off the exam table and picked up the lighter, stuffing it quickly into his pocket.

“I know that look,” Iggy said. “What do you know?”

Alex just kept grinning. “Do me a favor,” he said. “There’s a reporter in the lobby talking to Leroy Cunningham, blond guy in a brown suit with a dimple in his left cheek. Go tell him that I’ve got another exclusive for him, and this time it’s huge.”

Iggy looked confused.

“What story?” he asked. “What have you figured out?”

“I know how he’s doing it,” Alex said, heading out of the vault and back into the hospital. “The ghost, I mean. I know how he’s getting in to the houses.”

Alex stopped at the door and looked back at the still-confused Iggy. He felt so good that he laughed out loud.

“I know everything,” he said. “Now meet me in the lobby; I’ve got to find a telephone.”