The Best Bad Dream (28 page)

Only one man was truly anxious to continue with the work of the Blue Wolf brotherhood: Alex Williams. What he needed, he thought
now, was to be a true leader, one who would do some outrageous act which would reinspire the faithful. Something that would show all of them their awesome power.

Yes, the situation was one that called for a revolutionary hero, and that hero had to be himself.

He looked down at Jack with a calculated hatred on his face.

“You think you've won now? You think you've broken our will?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I couldn't have said it better myself. Now come down from there before I put a bullet in your leg.”

“You want me to come down? You've got it!”

Alex Williams revved up his chain saw one last time and, as most of his army of ancient men watched, he turned and pressed it to Johnny Z's throat. Blood spurted out all over Alex's face, and then, as Jack shot him in the left shoulder, he leaped off the ladder like a man half his age, the chain saw screaming in his right hand.

He landed just in front of Jack, and though he wavered, he was able to stay on his feet. Jack stepped backward as Williams's chain saw smashed against his gun barrel. The flamethrower fell to the ground, and suddenly the older man was on Jack, clawing at his face with his left hand as he tried to press the saw's teeth into Jack's neck with his right.

Behind Jack, Oscar was of little help because some of the men had felt a revived spirit of twisted camaraderie and were moving forward with murderous intent.

Jack heard the screaming of the chain saw as it came close to his left ear. He tried to fight Williams off with his elbow, but even though wounded, the older man seemed to possess near supernatural strength.

The saw came even closer. In a second it would slice through Jack's neck. Jack felt his strength sapping. He couldn't hold the saw back for much longer.

Williams felt it, too. He would win this battle and then they would kill the Mexican and eat their bodies at the feast. And he would be a god again. He pressed the saw forward, felt Jack's muscles trembling as they became fully spent.

It would only be a matter of seconds now. He was stronger than the FBI agent. He redoubled his efforts, saw Jack pull his head away, and saw the sweat running down the agent's neck.

One more push.

But for all his strength Williams wasn't a practiced fighter. He was so intent on slashing the saw into Jack's flesh that he forgot an old rule of street brawling. You must fight with your feet and legs, as well as your hands.

A lesson Jack hadn't forgotten.

He kneed Williams hard in his groin, and Alex groaned and fell backward.

“You son of a bitch!” he gasped, the pain flooding through him.

As he fell, Williams lost his balance. Panicked by the sudden reversal, he tried to swing the power saw at Jack with a desperate hope that he could score a direct hit on his face.

But Jack leaned back and watched as the saw barely passed by him in a speedy, out-of-control arc that ended up embedded into Alex Williams's own flailing left arm. The blade cut through a tendon in the Blue Wolf leader's forearm and the ensuing geyser of blood splashed his shoulder and face. Alex dropped the saw and fell to his knees, howling in fear and pain.

Jack kicked the saw away, and quickly took off his robe, tearing off pieces of it to make a tourniquet for Williams's bloody limb.

As Jack expertly tied off the tourniquet, Williams tried once more to rise up and address his followers.

“Forget about me. Think of what we've accomplished. Attack these bastards!”

But the faithful, once wild, had too much to lose. Many of them were already thinking of plane tickets to South America, the last place that didn't have
America's Most Wanted
on DIRECTV.

Now the unrepentant leader looked up at Jack and held his ground.

“You have no idea,” he said. “None at all. What we found is real. Real!”

“Right,” Jack said. “Which is why you're so youthful. You found something, Alex, something that made you a little stronger, maybe gave you a couple of days’ energy—but, when your time is up, that's the end of the show.”

“No, no, you don't understand. It worked. I'm telling you, it's real. It's going to change the world and
I
am going to be the most powerful—”

“Right,” Jack said, keeping one eye on the mob, which was still filled with anger. Oscar held a shaky gun on them.

“And you actually ate them?” Jack asked.

“Holy cannibalism,” Williams said. “Like Jesus. The blood, the body . . . it's all one.”

His eyes began to get cloudy.

“The ancient tribes knew. We had the answer. You can't understand. You're a reactionary creep.”

He looked up at Jack with hatred, then gasped and died.

Jack watched the blood leak out of him and saw the crowd move forward.

He stood up and looked at them.

“Your leader is dead,” he said. “And this little game is over. If any of you want a chance of getting out of this without life in prison you should give up right now.”

There was some grumbling but within seconds the whole group had lost its nerve.

Jack and Oscar held their guns on them as they herded them toward the exit.

The roundup of the rest of the Blue Wolf crew went without incident. The FBI, the New Mexico State Police, and some local Santa Fe cops helped gather the now-depressed and embarrassed offenders.

“They look like a sad bunch,” Oscar said as the medics strapped him onto his gurney. The two agents watched the perps shuffle along with their hands cuffed behind their backs.

“Crazy shit,” Jack said, as he observed a bloodied Phil and Dee Dee being loaded into another ambulance. “But I understand the rage they must feel. At least some of it. The old are treated like hell.”

“Yeah, man, but all that other stuff? I don't get it.”

“Tell you who might know some of it. Jennifer and her very tricky sister, Michelle. Speaking of which, where are those two?”

Oscar looked around as a young medic tapped an IV into his left arm.

“I don't know, amigo. A minute ago I thought I saw them by the entrance but they're gone now.”

“Par for the course,” Jack said. “The hell with them. You go get stitched up.”

Oscar laughed and groaned.

“I'm gonna be okay. But looks like that girl got you again, Jackie.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “And right in the heart.”

Jack watched the medics shut the door to Oscar's ambulance and suddenly felt very alone.

Chapter Forty

After finding out that his partner was going to be okay, Jack wanted nothing more than to fill out his paperwork and get back to Los Angeles.

But before he could leave the scene, his phone rang.

He looked at the caller ID and shook his head.

“Hi, Dad. How's it going?”

“Hey,” his father said. “Well, it's fine now, Jackie. But where you been? I been trying to get ahold of you for two days.”

Jack could hear the panic in his dad's voice.

“Sorry, Dad. Where I've been they have very poor reception. Is everything okay?”

There was a long beat of silence, then, “Yeah, sure, son,” Wade said. “It all came out fine. In the end, I mean. But, well, we had us a little spot of trouble here. No, make that a darn big spot. Can you talk now? ‘Cause I got a lot to tell you.”

Jack felt his stomach turn. Then he got behind the wheel of his car and steeled himself for the bad news.

Chapter Forty-one

Back at La Fonda, Jack was still too wired and disturbed to go to bed. He left the hotel, walked over to the square, and sat down on a bench, the cold wind cutting through him.

He'd thought the case would be simple. He'd thought he'd clear it up quickly and, meanwhile, his son would be just fine with Wade. Kevin. His only son. Almost killed and who knew what psychological damage had been done by the freaking lunatic librarian and her homicidal husband.

And the whole time all that was happening, Wade was telling him that everything was just great.

“He's getting home a little late with the library lady. Other than that, everything's great. Don't you worry about a thing, Jackie.”

What had ever convinced Jack that he could trust Kevin with Wade?

If Jack himself was a fuckup who only bluffed and staggered his way through cases, what was Wade?

A bigger fuckup, that was for sure.

And yet Jack had somehow convinced himself that it was fine for his dad to take care of his son.

How could he have talked himself into that?

Because he was just like his dad. A selfish bastard who put himself and his needs first. Not that he didn't love Kevin. He was crazy about him. But deep down he had to admit it. He didn't want the boy to get in the way of his adventurous life.

He felt a hot jolt of self-hatred sweep over him. He was a selfish adrenaline junkie. He put his love for a woman like Michelle in front of his own son.

He felt such a self-loathing that he wanted to blow his own brains out.

But that wasn't the way.

He had to think of Kevin first. Forget Michelle. Break whatever hold she had on him. She had helped him once, true, but this had to be the end. She had almost sacrificed her own sister to do what she wanted.

He had to realize that basically she was no good. His son needed him and that was it.

But even now, thinking of her hurt.

There was something deeply lonely inside of him, something that Michelle identified and sympathized with.

He thought of his time with her. The feelings he had just looking at her. Intensely sexual, of course, but something more important as well.

He felt like they completed one another. That both of them had grown up lonely and desperate. But when they were together they were fulfilled. Whole. One.

And this time he had almost been sure that she felt the same way.

But that was another lie.

She had tricked him again.

It could never happen again. No matter what happened in this crazy goddamned life, he must always put Kevin first. Michelle was history.

His son was his life. To hell with everything else. Silently, he made that pledge to Kevin and himself.

Exhausted, Jack stood up from the bench and headed for the hotel and, if possible, sleep.

Chapter Forty-two

Six months later . . .

Jack pulled into the driveway and looked for a light in Kevin's bedroom but there was none. The dark room worried him. It had taken a month for things to get close to normal. Jack and Kevin had been seeing a family therapist named Lake Hale together. They even brought Wade with them a couple of times and things had gotten very stormy. But now, after a month, all three of them had started to settle down. Jack was keeping his end of the bargain, coming home every night, making sure that Kevin had done his homework and that they had time together every day. The whole process was starting to work.

At least Jack had thought so, until now. It was eight o'clock and where was Kevin?

Jack told himself not to panic. The kid could be back in the bathroom, or the kitchen. But somehow he knew that things weren't right.

Jack walked into the house and called his son's name. No answer. He called again. No answer.

Jack put the pizza down on the dining room table and walked to the back of the house. No sign of Kevin in the bathroom.

He wet a washrag and wiped his forehead. Don't panic. Don't expect the worst.

He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, and his shoulder holster was a little tight. He felt a pain in his right arm.

Jack started to take the gun off when he heard something from his own bedroom.

What the hell?

He listened more intently as he crept toward his bedroom door. Now he could make it out, a narrator's voice like in a documentary film.

“Here they are. Two white mice of precisely the same age. Both of them are three years old, which is pretty old for a mouse.”

Jack crept up to his bedroom door, his Glock in his hand.

“The mice are named Binky and Bobby. You can see now that they are very old.”

Jack listened at the bedroom door. Yes, it was definitely coming from inside.

He aimed his gun at the door and slowly turned the handle.

Then he heard another voice. This one was a woman's. And one he had come to know.

“Come on in, Jack,” Kim Walker said. “And put down your gun. You won't need it. Oh, and one more thing. Don't turn on the light. I have a surprise for you.”

Jack walked inside, still holding his gun. Except for the light coming from a grainy, black-and-white video playing on a laptop sitting on the dresser, the room was dark.

The blinds were closed and Kim Walker was sitting on the bed. She was mostly hidden by shadows.

“Hi, Jack.”

“Kim. Where's my son?”

“He's fine. I just sent him in a cab across town to meet you for dinner. Called him on his cell phone. He should be at Musso and Frank's just about now. He'll wait a while, then call you. And by that time we'll be all done.”

“All done with what? What is it you want?”

There was silence like a canyon between them.

“I know you've been through a lot, Jack,” she said. “And I can just imagine what you think of us.”

Jack looked from her, lost in shadows, to the frozen image of the two aged, fat white mice.

“By ‘us’ I guess you're admitting your complicity in the Blue Wolf homicides.”

“Yes, I guess I am,” she said. “But let me explain, please. You see, when Alex first told me about it, I really didn't even consider being involved. First of all, it was immoral, and second, it was too wild to even believe. Injecting the liquid form of the pineal gland, add other new antiaging drugs, and you may be able to turn back the clock? Recapture your youth? That's crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “That's crazy.”

“That's what I thought, too, of course, but I was wrong. And so are you. I want you to watch this. It was made at a secret lab in London by gerontologists who worked with Alex. What they discovered is nothing short of a miracle. You may have trouble believing what you're seeing but I assure you it's all true.”