Panacea (18 page)

“He could be forty, forty-five tops. All I've got for you is his name and he says he was a Navy SEAL.”

He laughed. “Don't count on it. That's a favorite pickup line.”

“The way he handled that mugger, I wouldn‘t be surprised if really he was. And I don't think he was trying to pick me up.”

God, if he was, he needs a whole new approach or he's going to die alone.

“Don't count on that either.”

Did she detect some defensiveness in Phil's tone? He wouldn't be jealous now, would he?

“I don't think I'm his type.”

She remembered Hayden's flat eyes, devoid of interest in her and pretty much everything else. Was anyone his type?

“Well, whatever. The SEAL connection at least gives me a place to start. I know an ex-SEAL runs a B and B out Montauk way. Goes nuts about phonies who say they were SEALs. He'll be glad to check. Probably want to open a can of whup-ass on him if he wasn't. Just jot down his name for me.”

Laura wrote RICK HAYDEN on a sheet of paper.

“I think that's the right spelling.”

Phil took it and folded it. “I'll give my guy a call today.”

You do that, Laura thought. And then we'll see if Mr. Rick Hayden is the real deal.

 

7

“If I decide to go,” Laura said, occupying the same seat in Stahlman's van as this morning, “we've got to set some ground rules.”

By late this afternoon, after a long conversation with Steven and a lot of thinking, she'd made up her mind. She called the number on Stahlman's card and the van showed up in front of her house forty minutes later. As before, the driver stayed behind the wheel up front while the silent Hayden occupied a sofa toward the rear.

“Of course,” Stahlman said. As before, a green cannula encircled his head, pumping oxygen into his nose. “I wouldn't have it any other way. What do you propose?”

“Well, first off, it can't be an open-ended trip. We have to set a time limit.”

Stahlman nodded. “That's reasonable. What do you have in mind?”

“Two weeks.” She waited for his reaction.

He rubbed his chin. “How did you come up with that?”

“Because right now my ex-husband says he's in a place where he can take a two-week leave of absence from his firm without making major waves. He'll move in while I'm away. If any rough spots come up at work, he can deal with them online or over the phone.”

Steven had encouraged her to go. He knew what the dangling millions would mean for Marissa's future and wanted it for her. If he'd been half as good a husband as he was a father, she was pretty sure they'd still be married.

The trip itself hadn't been holding her back. She wasn't heading into the unknown—she'd been all through Mesoamerica. The coast was being overdeveloped, but the jungle interior … the terrain hadn't changed much since Cortez had slaughtered the Aztecs. Concern over Marissa had been the stumbling block. But now, knowing the child would have her father around 24/7 left Laura free to decide.

“I can't be gone longer than that,” she added. “I'll give it my all while I'm out there, but when the sand runs out, I'm heading back home.”

“All right. Two weeks it is. What else?”

“I want the money deposited into a special account to be paid immediately upon my return. Or, if I don't return, paid into a fund for my daughter.”

Stahlman frowned. “I know the trip is not without risk, but the most dangerous part will probably be driving the LIE from here to JFK.”

“Probably,” she said, forcing a smile.

But Mexico had changed since she was last there—changed for the worse. The cartels seemed to be in charge of states along the northern border. She'd be way south of there, but still … she didn't want to stick her head in the sand about this. And if something happened—something as unlikely as a plane crash—she didn't want that money going back to Stahlman. She wanted it to go to Marissa.

“That's no problem to arrange,” Stahlman said.

“What about expenses?”

“I don't want to be bothered with receipts and reimbursements. I'll authorize you to use one of my credit cards. Anything else?”

“I'm sure there is, but those are the big ones.”

“Then it's settled,” he said, slapping his thighs. “One small matter, and then we can shake on it.”

Uh-oh.

“What ‘small matter'?”

“You must leave tomorrow.”

That jolted her. “Tomorrow? I couldn't possibly—”

“You must. We've not a moment to spare. The 536 crew will certainly pick up on Brody's trip, if they haven't already. You must get there first. I will have the name of the
curandero
and the location of his village by tonight. You must be face-to-face with him tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? She'd have to call Henniger tonight and tell her an emergency had come up. She had the vacation days—no problem there—but the chief liked time to reset the coverage schedule.

It seemed silly to worry about a job with millions coming in. But the money wouldn't be coming to her, so she still had to make nice with her boss.

She sighed. “Okay. It'll mean a lot of crazy juggling, but I'll get it done.”

“Excellent.” He extended his hand. “We have a deal then?”

She shook his hand. His skin had a cellophane feel, as if it would split with too hard a squeeze. A common effect of long-term prednisone.

“Deal.”

He picked up the phone on his wheelchair tray. “I'll have my bank set up the account right now and—”

“But it's Saturday afternoon. How—? Oh, never mind.”

He smiled. “One of the perks of being filthy rich. When I call money people, they answer.”

She pulled Chaim's belt out of her bag and let it uncoil from her raised hand.

“This belt belonged to Brody. The writing has to be a code of some sort. Do either of you have any idea what it might say?”

Hayden and Stahlman both stared at the string of letters and numbers.

Stahlman shook his head. “Give it to me and I can have cryptographers go over it.”

“If I'm retracing his steps, I think I should bring it with me.”

“Very well.” He called over his shoulder: “James, please get a photo of this.”

The driver left his seat up front and used a smartphone to take a couple of shots.

As Laura put the belt away, she took a breath. “One more condition, if I may.”

She hadn't included it in her ground rules and was a little uncomfortable bringing it up in front of Hayden, but she had no choice.

Stahlman had been about to call his bank. He lowered the phone. “Yes?”

“I want to arrange my own security for the trip.”

“You have a problem with Mister Hayden?”

Yes, she did, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what that problem might be. Just a feeling.

She did not look Hayden's way. “Not specifically, other than I know nothing about him.”

“I can vouch for him.”

“I appreciate that, but still…”

“You've hired security before?”

“No. I usually traveled with a small team. My employers arranged security.”

“Do you have someone specific you'd prefer?”

“Do I have a name? No, but—”

“Your problem is with Mister Hayden himself, isn't it?”

There. Stahlman had nailed it. But Laura said nothing.

“I can understand that.” He aimed a wry smile over her shoulder at the man in question. “Mister Hayden is not a warm presence. He does not light up a room, except perhaps when he leaves it. He does not have an engaging personality. He is not very talkative. Did I gloss over anything, Mister Hayden?”

“Forgot to mention that I don't like dogs, cats, children, or spectator sports.”

“I was not aware of that,” Stahlman said, smiling and nodding. “But come to think of it, I have never seen you in the company of a child or a pet.”

“Or brussels sprouts.”

Laura didn't consider this a joking matter. She spread her hands.

“Well, there you have it,” she said. “You're not describing the sort of person I'd wish to be in hour-to-hour contact with for two full weeks.”

Stahlman focused on Laura again. “On the other hand, once you get him started on the right topic, I can guarantee some interesting conversations. But he will not be along to act as your friend or confidant or soul mate. He will be along to guarantee your safe return. You
do
want to return, don't you, Doctor Fanning?”

“Of course, but—”

“
You
want to return,
I
want you to return, and I'm sure your daughter especially wants you to return. I daresay, even your ex-husband wants you to return. So the best way for me to assure that outcome is to put Mister Hayden at your side for the duration of your journey.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,' Doctor Fanning. I thought it was understood. This account I am about to set up is your guarantee. I too need a guarantee. I am investing in you, and Mister Hayden is my guarantee, my insurance policy. This is a deal breaker.”

Deal breaker
 … the term rocked her. She'd set her mind on going, on setting up Marissa for life. Was all that going up in smoke because she had a
feeling
about Rick Hayden? Stahlman seemed to have supreme confidence in the man. Couldn't she go with that?

Yes … yes, she guessed she could. She'd have to, or not go at all.

“All right then.” She turned to Hayden. “Looks like we're traveling companions.”

He didn't smile as he twirled a finger in the air. “Yippee.”

Laura sighed. This could be a long two weeks.

 

8

“Sir?” said the receptionist as Nelson pulled out his ringing phone.

She pointed to the
Please Turn Off All Cell Phones
sign attached to the front wall of her station.

He glanced at the screen:
Bradsher
.

“I need to take this,” he said, rising and heading for the glass front doors. “I'll be right outside.”

The courier had delivered Forman's slides and his prescription for a CT scan of the brain to Nelson's office at 2:40. Nelson had already been on the phone, calling various imaging centers around the city. He managed to wrangle a late-afternoon scan at a center on the ninth floor of an old building just off Columbus Circle. Like everyone else, they'd wanted to put him off till tomorrow—these places ran seven days a week—but he'd persisted. He saw no point in waiting.

As soon as Nelson reached the hall, he hit TALK. “What is it, Bradsher?”

“News, sir.”

“Talk to me.”

Bradsher told him that Dr. Fanning was leaving for Mexico tomorrow morning to meet with a Mayan healer in the jungle. Nelson hadn't expected such a quick departure, but Bradsher already had a lead on the healer.

“Brother Miguel asked around and it seems the natives know of a
curandero
in the jungles northwest of Chetumal. He's considered holy because of the miraculous cures he performs.”

“Sounds like our man.”

“Miguel is already on his way.”

“Alone?”

“No. He's bringing along a freelancer from Mexico City, someone the Company has used in the past. He's reliable and speaks a number of the native dialects.”

Reliable … that usually meant an underworld sociopath who would do anything and keep his mouth shut as long as he was paid.

“Brother Miguel is prepared for the special circumstances?”

“Yessir. He's bringing a buzzer and joy juice.”

That meant a Taser and a sedative. These were encrypted phones, but it never hurt to be circumspect.

“Good.”

“Doctor Fanning will be traveling with a companion as well. Mister Stahlman insisted someone named Rick Hayden accompany her.”

That name rang no bells, but a bodyguard might cause problems if Nelson waited until Mexico to dispose of Laura Fanning.

“The doctor will not be traveling at all. Tell Brother Simon he must get the job done tonight.”

“Yessir. The doctor also mentioned a belt with a code on it—Brody's belt.”

“Belt? With a code? Do you think it was unique to him?”

“Who can say?”

“We haven't seen anything like that on other panaceans.”

“Well, sir, that could be because of the Leviticus Sanction.”

True … they'd never had a belt to examine because immolation destroyed whatever the pagans were wearing along with their bodies.

“We'll worry about that later. When Miguel calls, conference me in. I have some last-minute instructions. And book us into Mexico City tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Tomorrow could be the turning point in a millennium-and-a-half war. Nelson wanted to be on the front line.

“Tonight.”

“Will do.”

He glanced through the glass doors of the imaging center and saw the receptionist waving to him.

“Gotta go.”

He ended the call and turned off his phone as he re-entered.

“We're ready for you,” she said, indicating a burly man in dark-blue scrubs waiting with a clipboard.

“This way,” he said.

How strange, Nelson thought as he dutifully fell in step behind him. In the outside world he could decide, in given cases, who lived and who died—as he'd done just seconds ago in Laura Fanning's case. But step through those doors into a medical facility and he did what he was told without questioning.

“Will you be reading the X-rays?” he asked.

“I'm just a tech.”

“Well, when do I get the report?”