Driven (13 page)

P
ierce,” called a voice, just as Gavin was about to open the hospital entrance door for Amy. They both turned to see Katz walking
slowly toward them alongside a short, elderly man with a thick white beard and yarmulke skullcap. The man kept one hand on
Katz’s left arm. He wore dark sunglasses.

“This is my Uncle Hiram,” Katz said with a proud smile. “Uncle Hiram?” Gavin said.

“Yes. He’s spent most of his life studying the ancient Scriptures in their original language. I thought he might be able to
help us if Karianne speaks in ancient Hebrew again. As I mentioned yesterday, ancient Hebrew is a read, not spoken, language,
but Uncle Hiram reads the Scriptures aloud. Always has. He’s used to hearing the language from his own mouth.”

Gavin didn’t know what to say. He wanted to keep the interrogation as low profile as possible, and Uncle Hiram might be all
that was needed to push Fagan over the edge. Gavin didn’t exactly cherish a conversation between Fagan and Lieutenant Sandel.
On the other hand, the old man might be helpful. Besides, what was he to do—tell Katz to send his uncle back to wherever he’d
found him, wasting more precious time and insulting the psychologist he desperately needed? Inwardly, Gavin sighed.

“Hello, sir. I’m Detective Pierce and this is Amy, my assistant,” he said extending his hand.

“Oh, thank you, my son,” Uncle Hiram said as he took Gavin’s hand and held on to it for additional support.

Gavin fell into step with Uncle Hiram and glared at Katz.

“Maybe we should get him a wheelchair,” Amy said.

“That would be excellent,” Katz replied.

The old man nodded approvingly.

Maybe we should check him in while we’re at it, Gavin refrained from adding.

T
ICK
, tick, tick, tick, tick…

Gavin leaned against the window wondering if he too would be hypnotized as he listened to the beat of the metronome and Katz’s
mesmerizing voice. He’d had maybe four hours of sleep and was feeling it. He looked at Amy, who sat hunched and bleary-eyed
at the foot of the other bed. Last night after dinner she had further
impressed Gavin with her computer skills as they collaborated and brainstormed into the wee hours. In all that time she’d
failed to retrieve any further useful information. According to Amy’s research, Krogan didn’t exist.

Chris, who sat next to Amy, appeared in better shape than she, and he was still in a wheelchair. Next to Chris and also in
a wheelchair was Uncle Hiram, who for all Gavin knew was asleep behind those dark sunglasses. And watching from the back of
the room was Doctor Fagan, who had simply been told Uncle Hiram was an expert linguist.

Karianne’s arm was raised, indicating to Katz she was ready. Katz had been right about her being able to slip into her hypnotic
state easier the second time. Earlier, Karianne had asked Katz, “What now?” He had explained that the most significant and
common thread found in both the conscious world and her hypnotic state was the word
shadahd.
The bartender had heard the killer say it, and though Karianne didn’t remember it consciously, she had confirmed her knowledge
of it while under. Katz also seemed fascinated by the fact it was an extinct word from very ancient times, something he said
his Uncle Hiram confirmed. Gavin worried that Katz’s agenda went beyond the case at hand. Regardless, they had all agreed
shadahd
was a logical place to start.

“Karianne,” Katz said in his soothingly deep voice, “I want you to go back in time to the Seahorse Tavern. Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said slowly in a hushed voice.

“What are you drinking?”

“A Bloody Mary.”

“Now you’ve been there long enough for the big man to come up beside you. Do you see him?”

“Yes,” she said.

“He tells you his name is Krogan, correct?”

“Yes.”

“He speaks a word to you.
Shadahd.
Do you understand what he means?”

“I… I don’t understand.”

Katz frowned. “Do you tell him you didn’t understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then what does he tell you?”

“He orders more for us to drink.”

“Then does he explain?”

“He doesn’t have to. After a few more drinks I know.”

“You know what?”

Karianne paused. Her expression seemed to struggle a bit, then stabilize into a grin that made Gavin feel quite uncomfortable.
It was the same strange smile from the day before—almost feral. Finally she said, “I knew
everything.
”

Katz looked at Gavin and then back at Karianne. “Why does Krogan say
shadahd?
”

Karianne lifted her chin upward as her expression hardened. “
Shadahd
is a battle cry,” she said proudly.

“For what?”

“The war.”

“What war?”

“There is only one.”

Katz paused at that statement. “When did the war start?”

“Before ‘when.’ ”

Katz frowned again, then straightened up and went to Gavin’s ear. “Her answers are incredibly emphatic and real to her even
if they seem abstract to us. I’m going to repeat some of yesterday’s questions and see if we wind up in the same place. If
we do, we’ll explore. Maybe we’ll find Krogan between the lines.”

Gavin nodded, although he wasn’t sure what Katz was talking about and wondered if even Katz knew. He grabbed Katz by the elbow
as the psychologist started to turn back. “Just do us a favor:
if she starts to speak in ancient Hebrew again, make sure your uncle translates what she says into English, loud enough that
we aren’t all left sitting here in the dark.”

“I’ll try,” Katz replied.

Katz repositioned Uncle Hiram closer to the bed and found his own spot at the bed’s foot. Karianne still had her left arm
in the air. Her countenance was proud.

“I want you to go back to when you first met Krogan. Are you there?”

“Ken.”

Great, Gavin thought sarcastically. Here we go again with the ancient Hebrew lesson. Now he had to consciously remember
ken
meant “yes.”

“Is Krogan with you?”

She nodded with a satisfied smile.

“Where are you?”

“Yecko.”

Katz frowned. “Where is Yecko?”

“Maveth nahar al.”

Uncle Hiram paused long enough for Gavin to wonder if he even remembered he was supposed to interpret, then said, “I don’t
understand what she means.”

“Don’t worry about what she means, Uncle Hiram. Just translate what she says,” Katz said kindly.

Uncle Hiram, who had begun nodding while Katz was speaking to him, said, “Death river near.”

“What?” Gavin said in a hushed voice.

“In Hebrew the verb comes first, then the subject then the direct object and its modifier, if there is one. If anything, English
is backwards,” Katz explained. “ ‘Death river near’ would mean ‘near river death.’ ”

“Oh, now I understand perfectly,” Gavin said with quiet sarcasm. “Are you sure he’s interpreting correctly?”

Uncle Hiram nodded. “ ‘The river death.’ She said she’s near the river that dies,” he said softly. “Whatever that means.”

“ ‘The river that dies’?” Katz said. “What country or nation are you in?”

“Lo coy. Arabah.”

Again the old man took his time. “She said there is no nation, only desert.”

At this rate, Gavin wondered if they would be done by midnight.

“You’re not in a country, you’re in a desert?”

“Ken,” she said with a nod.

“Does everyone speak your language?”

She continued to nod affirmatively.

“Why does the river die?”

“Amets. Lo chayah.”

All eyes went to Uncle Hiram, whose white eyebrows dipped below his dark glasses rims in wrinkled confusion. “I don’t know,”
he said. “The dialect is broken. It doesn’t seem to make any sense, but I think that she’s saying,‘Strong. No live.’The river
dies because it’s too strong to live.”

“Too strong to live? How? What’s too strong?”

“Melach.”

“Salt,” Uncle Hiram said.

“Salt? It’s too salty?” Katz replied.

“Ken.”

Katz’s eyes suddenly widened. “Does the river become very big when it dies?”

She nodded.

“Is it also called the Dead Sea or the Salt Sea?”

“Maveth nahar al.”

“It is only called the river that dies?”

“Ken.”

“Is Yecko also called Jericho?”

“Yecko is Yecko.”

Katz’s eyes widened as he slowly nodded. “What is the date?”

“Lo machath.”

Uncle Hiram shook his head. “She says there is no date.”

Katz looked surprised at the answer and paused, his eyes rapidly looking around the room as if there might be a cue card somewhere
to tell him what to ask next.

“Are you aware of what the date is?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Are there other people there?”

“Ken.”

“Do they know you?”

She nodded and smiled.

“What do they call you?”

“Ehud.”

“You’re a man?” Katz said.

“Ken.”

“Ehud, I want you to look at your feet. Do you see them?”

“Ken.”

“What are you wearing on them?”

“Bilti.”

“Nothing,” Uncle Hiram said.

Gavin rolled his eyes and dragged his finger across his throat. He had no idea what this was all about, but as far as he was
concerned, it wasn’t getting him any closer to Krogan, or whatever his name was.

Katz waved Gavin off.

“What are you and Krogan doing?”

“Shathah yayin.”

“Drinking. Drinking wine,” Uncle Hiram interpreted.

“Have you had much to drink?” Katz asked.

“Lo,” she said and laughed coarsely.

Uncle Hiram smiled. “She said no.”

“No. Hmm. Okay, four hours have gone by. What are you doing now?”

“Halak.”

“She says ‘travel,’ ” Uncle Hiram said.

“You’re traveling. Are you on a horse?”

“Lo.”

“No,” Uncle Hiram said, notably more attentive than before.

“No horse? Does anyone use a horse?”

“Lo.”

“You are walking?”

“Ken.”

Katz shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Where are you going?”

“Mattah Gaanos.”

“She is going to the tribe of Gaanos, whatever that is,” Uncle Hiram said.

“Why are you going to the tribe of the Gaanos?”

“Shadahd.”

Katz dabbed his sweaty brow with a handkerchief, then leaned over the bed. “How many times have you met with Krogan since
then?”

“Rab.”

“Many,” Uncle Hiram said.

“Five, ten, a hundred, a thousand?”

“Min.”

“More,” Uncle Hiram said.

Katz stood upright and blinked. After spending the next few moments staring into space, he took a drink of water from a paper
cup, then lifted the index finger of his right hand like a lawyer questioning a witness.

“You’re moving forward in time. You are going to the moment of Ehud’s death. You will not experience any fear or pain. You
will only observe. Are you there?”

She nodded.

“How is Ehud dying?”

“Chanith.”

“Spear,” Uncle Hiram said.

“Spear?”

“Ken.”

“Okay. Move a little further ahead in time. Ehud has been dead for two days. What are you doing?”

“Searching,” she said, now speaking in English.

Gavin didn’t understand why she was suddenly speaking in English any more than why she’d understood Katz’s English before
but only replied in Hebrew. Why didn’t she speak English the whole time?

“Why are you searching?”

“I’m uncomfortable. Need rest. Need comfort.”

“What are you searching for?”

“A body.”

“What kind of body?”

“A comfortable one.”

Katz looked at Gavin and shrugged his shoulders, then indicated he would be wrapping it up shortly. Gavin hoped he would.
Amy was busy writing in her notebook.

“Did you find a comfortable body?”

“Yes.”

“Was it hard to find?”

“No.”

“Move forward in time until you come to, uh, nineteen… nineteen forty-four.”

Karianne’s head swayed slowly from side to side, then stopped.

“Are you there?”

Karianne nodded. “Hai.”

Katz paused. “Does
Hai
mean ‘yes’?”

Karianne nodded again. “Hai.”

“Now she’s speaking Japanese,” Amy blurted out.

Katz nodded and held up his hand toward Amy for silence.

“What is your name?”

“Naoyuki Kamiya.”

Gavin signaled for a time-out. Katz tried to wave him off, but Gavin made the sign again and would not back off. Katz sighed.
Gavin got up, squeezed the psychologist’s elbow, and whispered into his ear. “Kill it now, Katz. Push the pause button or
whatever you have to do to shut her off. We have to talk.”

“Okay, okay. But remind me to get you some medication.”

K
rogan listened to the ringing on the other end of the line. From the phone booth at the corner gas station, he had a clear
view of the pay phone at the bus stop in front of the
Post
building.

“Good morning.
Daily Post
.This is Angela. How can I help you?” “Mel Gasman,” Krogan said.

“Please hold while I transfer you.”

“Mr. Gasman’s office,” said another female voice.

“Mel Gasman,” Krogan said.

“And who should I say is calling?”

“Krogan.”

There was silence on the other end. Krogan smiled as he imagined a stunned expression on the face of Gasman’s secretary. He
didn’t hear the line being put on hold. He could still hear background noise. She was probably in eye contact with Gasman,
pointing to the receiver and mouthing his name.

“Gasman here. Who is this?”

“Like I told the wench, Newsboy. My name is Krogan and I have information as to my whereabouts,” he said, enjoying every second.
He didn’t usually get the chance to speak to his targets beforehand.

“How do I know this is really you and not a prank caller?”

“Who else would know the informer you won’t identify was a blonde babe I picked up in the Seahorse Tavern?”

A pause. “Why are you calling?”

“Not so fast. I don’t want to talk on this phone line. I’m shy. Outside your building there’s a pay phone at the bus stop.
Go there now and wait for my call. If you’re not there in one minute, I’m gone,” Krogan said, then hung up.

Soon after he was laughing as he watched a short man in brown pants and a white shirt come running from the building to the
pay phone. Almost immediately, Krogan dialed it up.

“Hello,” Gasman said, breathing heavily.

“Not bad. Forty-five seconds,” Krogan said, looking at his new watch, which he’d taken off the left wrist of the dead man
in the bucket.

“What’s going on?”

“I read your paper today. I don’t think you understand where
I’m really comin’ from. I’d like people to understand me better. I want us to talk. And the picture was lousy. I’ve got better
ones.”

“You want to give us a better picture?” Gasman asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Why? You don’t want it?”

“No, no! I mean, yeah, of course. It’s just unusual that—”

“I’m not usual. Do you want to meet with me or not?”

“Meet with you? In person?”

“Yeah. What’d ya think I meant? On the phone?”

“Well, I—”

“I thought maybe you were someone I could talk to, but if you don’t want to…”

“No. That’s fine. Lots of people talk to me. I am… I’m very understanding.”

“I thought so. We’ll meet at one-thirty, in a public place so you won’t need to be concerned about me kidnapping you. I’m
really not interested in that sort of thing, but you’ll know much better after we… meet,” Krogan said. He watched his victim-to-be
at the pay phone. At that moment he imagined driving the truck full speed, pedal to the floor, right through the bus stop.
It would not only take care of Gasman, but also the people waiting for the bus. But, no, he was enjoying this little game
too much and the final result would be far more exciting than a quick fix now.

“Where do I go?” Gasman asked.

“Albany,” Krogan said, anticipating his prey’s surprise at the location.

“Albany?” Gasman gasped. “You’re in Albany?”

“Would I ask you to meet me in Albany if I wasn’t there?”

“No, but to meet you by one-thirty I’ll—”

“You’ll have to take the jet I’ve reserved for you at Republic Airport.”

“How did—?”

“Shut up and listen. If you don’t follow my directions perfectly there’s no meeting. Call Executive Airways to confirm your
flight and pay them with your credit card. Your flight leaves at exactly twelve-thirty. Come alone. Wear a bright red shirt
or jacket so I know who you are from a distance. I’ll contact you after you land in Albany if I’m convinced you’re alone.”

Krogan hung up and watched. Gasman appeared to be speaking. After a moment he too hung up and darted back toward the building,
almost knocking over someone waiting for the bus.

Krogan laughed loudly, then started up the bucket truck and headed to Republic Airport for his appointment. He had gotten
no more than a few blocks when the dispatch radio came on, apparently looking for the guy in the bucket. “McQuade? Where are
you?”

Krogan unclipped the handset on the dashboard, found the side button, and pressed it. “He quit.”

There was silence for a moment, then the radio came on again. “Who is this?”

Krogan smiled. “I’m the guy who convinced your boy to quit. And by the way, this truck’s a piece of garbage.”

“Whoever this is, that truck is private property. Is Jim Mc-Quade there?”

“He’s takin’ a nap,” Krogan yelled, then ripped the radio off the dashboard and threw it out the window, along with the empty
Thermos and clipboard. McQuade wouldn’t be needing them anymore.