Rise of a Phoenix: Rise of a Phoenix (16 page)

“Morning, Doc.” She said loudly. This certainly had an effect. The doctor glared at her and she stared right back at him. He seemed discomfited by her actions. After all, he was usually the one in charge but she had somehow turned the tables. It was a new, fascinating experience for him.

“Can I help you, Detective?” he said slowly, his voice grating, ranging in pitch from high to low.

“Well, yes, I thought that was the point of you being here?”

Steel tried to hide the smile as she took the doc down a couple of pegs.

“Forgive me,” Dr Davidson apologized.

“You see I’m used to working alone you see and, er...”

Then he looked at Steel in surprise. “Who is he?” He pointed to the other detective, who was looking at the doctor’s information board.

“That is Detective Steel, don’t mind him, he’s British.”

Steel turned round and adjusted his sunglasses with his middle finger.

“Pleased to meet you, Sir.” Steel walked towards the strange doctor and extended a hand so they could shake, but the doctor ignored it and looked straight through him.

“So what have you got so far?” Sam McCall asked, laughing to herself at the Englishman’s rebuff.

“Well, your man is calculated, brilliant, methodical, and cunning, which makes him the most dangerous character you may have ever tracked.”

They all moved forwards towards the information boards. There were pictures of the victims and their particular characteristics written down under their names.

“He is a master with the scalpel and other medical tools; he is well-versed in surgical methods,” added the arrogant medical man.

“And you know this how?” asked Steel, somewhat uncomfortable with the way Davidson appeared to be practically in awe of the killer.

“Well let’s look at the fact. All the cuts are precise—we know this because most people when they cut someone up, there are saw marks all over the bone.” He pointed to a close-up picture of the severed stump where an arm had been removed.

“As you can see, it’s a straight cut, no jagged cuts, which means he took his time and he knew what to use.”

Steel looked closer at the photos and shook his head.

“What’s wrong, Detective, not got the stomach for this?” The doctor laughed. “Doesn’t surprise me, though.” He was clearly on a mission to undermine the Englishman.

“Really?” Steel replied, keeping his cool. “Please do tell me why you’re not surprised?” Steel stepped back from the board to face the doctor, who had a very strange grin on his face.

“Well now, let us see. You feel that you are a man of action but something tells me the only fighting you have seen is on television. You wish to feel as if you are intimidating to others so that’s why you wear those sunglasses. And I bet you wear them all the time, don’t you?”

McCall stood there and, as she listened, what he was saying started to make sense.

“Anything else?” Steel asked in a cool and calm voice, his arms behind his back.

“Well, if you insist.”

By now a crowd had formed outside the room with Tooms and the Captain in the front, ready to jump onto the man who was being insulted, just in case he decided to rip the doctor apart.

“I imagine your mother and the rest of your family lived in a slum residence and your father took off when you were just a child. And that’s why you seem to be in awe of people with money, yet you try to dress like someone who has the funds, because you want to be one of them.”

Steel stood there, arms still behind his back, unflinching as the doctor made a fool of him, ripped apart his reputation and his family. By this time everyone could see the expression of blood-lust on the doctor’s face as he proceeded with his assault.

“You are a nobody, Detective,” said the doctor with a vicious grin, “and by the way, how did an Englishman become part of NYPD?”

This question suddenly touched a nerve with everyone in the room. Steel saw the crowd in the adjacent main office suddenly start to talk amongst themselves.
The doc was right
, they all thought: Steel could see that sentiment on their faces.

“I must say, Doctor, what you said was most entertaining, for a piece of fiction. Unfortunately as I have been reminded several times by the finest cop I have ever had the good fortune of knowing, we work on facts, not hunches or feelings. I mean if we did work that way, I would say that you are a man that likes to put down people that you consider a threat, using any means necessary. You reached the top of your field, and now you probably spend all your days treating old women who have lost their pets, or are depressed for some other reason.” This time the smug face of the doctor had turned sour and his teeth began to show.

John Steel wasn’t finished with him. “You tried to malign my family, so I would have to say you were an orphan. Probably were never were picked by adoptive parents. No, I would say that you were so odious that you scared people, for which reason they never put you in the limelight to be picked. I would also say you that have a problem with women, that’s why you avoid talking to the pretty ones.”

Davidson’s face soured.

“Added to that, you have a strange fascination with death,
too much of a fascination
perhaps. Cops have to live with the ghastly aspects of death, but someone with your qualifications?”

Davidson’s face was almost purple at this point, but McCall noticed that throughout the confrontation Steel was calm, maybe too calm. Steel was just about to slam another nail in the man’s coffin when they were all disturbed by the
ding
of the elevator, and an officer from downstairs brought in the small shoe-shine boy, Luke. Steel turned to see the boy and he forgot all about the idiot doctor, to the relief of the Captain and Tooms.

“It’s OK, Colin, he’s with me.” The officer nodded and his hands left the boy’s shoulders.

“So did you get it?” Steel asked his young friend.

The boy nodded and handed over a large duffel bag to Steel, who unzipped the bag, looked inside and sniffed.

“Oh yeh, that’s the stuff,” he said.

Everyone one looked puzzled.

“You see?” piped up the doctor, who had found a new weapon to use against Steel, after witnessing what had just happened. “He has brought drugs into the precinct. And he has used a small boy as his courier.”

Davidson stood pointing at the boy and Steel. The other man turned towards him and smiled.

“Wow, OK, Doc, you got me. The bag is stacked with bricks of drugs. How much would you say?”

Steel turned to the boy, who was sharp enough to know when the doc was being played.

“I couldn’t say, Sir, but I know you owe me a tip,” the boy said with a grin.

The detective cracked a smile and tossed a hundred dollars to the kid, who quickly pushed it into his pocket.

“Now you get back to your shoe stand, oh and the same again every two weeks.” He looked round the room. “Tell you what, I’ll let you know if there are any changes.”

The boy shot off, using the side stairs.

“Steel, what the hell is in the bag?” Sam McCall asked.

Steel grinned and headed for the coffee room, followed by the detectives who’d been watching the incident, leaving the doctor standing alone, unwilling to move, trying to prove a point. Getting to the refreshment area, Steel took the jugs from the machines and emptied its nasty contents; he prepared the three machines then reached into the bag and took out a small black-and-blue vacuum-wrapped packet.

“Steel, what the hell is?” asked the Captain. “Is that what I think it is? Now don’t you mess with me.”

Steel just stood there and slowly nodded as he raised the brick up.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, tipping away the old coffee and replenishing the water in the machines. He opened the package and topped up the machines with the dark powder, then, after pressing the ‘on’ button he waited. Before saying another word he listened for the distinctive
burrrr
as the hot water was being passed through the coffee powder.

“I give you a little taste of heaven.” The machines stopped and the detectives poured into the room like some a zombie horde. Steel sought refuge beside the doctor who, as Steel approached, scowled at him.

“And what do you want now, detective?”

Steel bit his lip at the doctor’s unfriendly tone.

“Look, Doctor, we are both professionals and we are here to do a job. I’m here because I have to be, you are here because you need to be, so let’s just forget out differences and be professional.” And with that he produced two cups of coffee from behind his back, and giving one to the Doc he raised his as a sign they should clink them together in agreement.

The doctor paused, shrugged, and tapped his cup against Steel’s. McCall stood watching the display between the two rivals and shook her head. Every time she thought she had gotten a read on Steel he threw in a curve ball. She sipped her coffee for the first time;
oh it is good
, she thought as her eyes rolled back.

THIRTY-ONE

The hour was late and Steel said his goodnights. The sun had sunk below the horizon and washes of colour painted the skyline with purples, reds, and oranges. He decided that he would go and check on the boy. As he approached the spot where the boy’s shoe-shine box normally stood, there was just a blank space, and a sickening feeling crawled over him like a heavy blanket. He kept walking, hoping to see a sign of Luke but he saw nothing. The streets were silent as he ventured home and he hoped and prayed the boy was OK.

As his key slid into the door and Steel entered the apartment, he hung up his jacket, then moved to the drinks cabinet and picked up the bottle of Glendronach whisky, poured the golden colored liquid into a crystal glass, and took a hit. Putting down the glass, he poured another, and, the glass now half full, he moved to the window, and sat at the chaise longue that faced the window. He looked out across the expanse of the city and feared for the boy’s safety.

As the dawn came, everything appeared to be covered with a blue-grey tint. The air was fresh and moist, and a figure in a black hooded tracksuit pounded his way towards Battery Park. The streets were almost empty, with only the noise from the garbage trucks’ hydraulics echoing through the maze of buildings, cop cars raising here and there, sirens tooting now and then.

Detective John Steel liked to jog at this time of day; the coolness of the air cleared his airways from the filth of the previous day’s traffic. He stopped by the railings that overlooked the bay, the brown-coloured water lapped up the sides of posts that were sunk down into the murky depths.

Taking a bottle of water from the pouch on his belt, he popped the stopper top and took a mouthful of the cold liquid and swilled it in his mouth, then swallowed. Finding a bench, he sat and looked out across the bay and saw the blood red of the sun rise. He reflected that in ancient times a blood-red sky meant blood had been spent the night before. He hoped to God that was not the case, thinking back to the boy, Luke. Jumping up, he set off once more.

Sundays held a special place in McCall’s week. It was the one time she could go and see her mom in Boston. She would go every weekend if work allowed. Her mother had a small place in the quiet part of the city; it was a small residential area with white picket fences and kids playing in the street. The sun shone brightly, a breeze rustled through the trees, and as she stood at the front porch of her mom’s house she closed her eyes and listened to the nothingness, and it was great.

Reaching forwards she pressed the bell. A loud
ding dong
echoed through the house, and moments later a cheerful voice called from somewhere near the back of the house.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” was what she heard, then she saw through the small slits of glass embedded in the door a figure moving quickly towards her. Her mom opened up the door, a small elderly lady in a long white dress that had flowery patterns on it, reminiscent of the 1970s. Her hair was dyed brown and showed signs of a recent perm.

The two women embraced at the sight of one another.

“I don’t understand why you never use the key I gave to you,” her mother said, a big grin on her round face.

“You know why, Mom? It’s because I love the look on your face when you open the door. It’s great to be here.” Her mother dragged her inside.

“Leave your case there and come into the kitchen,” her mother told the detective. “I made some coffee and an apple pie.”

McCall didn’t need to be asked twice; as she entered the large kitchen a waft of freshly percolated coffee and cinnamon filled her nostrils and tickled her taste buds, causing her to stop and to inhale the rich smell of home. She sat down one of the wooden chairs in the middle of the room. The kitchen was quite large with old-style fittings, and Sam had always loved it here. The house was fitted with a lot of stained wood and brass doors and cosy furniture.

McCall’s mother passed over some cups, saucers and side plates, and Sam helped set the table . Her mother brought over a large bone-china pot filled with fresh coffee and a large pie on a plate that matched the tea set. The younger woman poured the coffee and her mother cut slices of the hot steaming pie and put them on plates. Placing mounds of fresh cream onto the side of her plate, Sam dug into the pie with a small fork, the hard-topped pastry cracking down upon the apple filling, causing chunks of apple and filling to ooze from the sides before the top broke with a mouth-watering crunch.

The two women talked about this and that, who was going out with who, and all the normal local gossip, which Sam so enjoyed to hear. Sometimes McCall thought, why didn’t she just quit and have a normal life like this? And then she remembered the reason she became a cop in the first place. Remembering something difficult, Sam’s face straightened and her mother held her hand, sensing that her daughter needed comfort. McCall snapped back to reality at her touch.

“It’s OK to remember him, dear, don’t let his death drive you along the wrong path,” The older lady said.