The Memory Collector (37 page)

Officer Frank Liu walked along the sidewalk, one hand on his nightstick, the other loose near his holster. Traffic slurred past. Headlights were turning to fuzz in the fog. He strolled past the stolen red Navigator.

The street was mostly small businesses—an auto parts store, a locksmith, a pawnshop. Most were closed. He glanced across the street. The park was dark. He walked past a sporting goods store. The lights in the front of the store were off, but in the back, behind transom windows, fluorescents were buzzing. Shadows moved around. Somebody was there. Two doors farther down, the lights were also on in a hair salon. He walked to the corner and turned onto the cross street. Down the block, bright signs beckoned people to Burger King and Wendy’s.

The unmarked car eased to the curb next to him and the passenger’s window came down. “Officer Liu? Lieutenant Amy Tang.”

Liu got in and shut the door. “Navigator is parked around the corner and one block up. Street’s quiet—mostly small businesses. Everything’s shut for the night, but the lights are on in a hair salon and there’s activity in the back of a sporting goods store.”

The lieutenant peered out the windshield at traffic. “Kanan has a head injury that severely affects his memory. I don’t know what he can remember, but he’s ex-Special Forces. Presume he remembers how to kill people.”

“What do you want to do?” Liu said.

“Lights in the back of a couple businesses, you said?” She nodded up the street. “There’s an alley halfway up the block. It’ll run behind the store. Let’s take a stroll.”

Jo felt the mist sink through her clothes and skin as Murdock dragged her toward the lake. The gangsta-flavored licorice stick named Vance was at the shore, holding on to the spare tire.

Jo jammed the heels of her Doc Martens into the grass. “Kanan’s going to call me. I have to be home. He set his cell phone to dial me and if I don’t answer, he’ll never call back.”

Murdock put his lips against her ear and nuzzled her hair. “Shut up.”

The panic sank all the way through her. He was enjoying this.

He handed the iron to Vance, who began looping the electrical cord through the inner rim of the wheel.

“We couldn’t just take her to the house?” Vance said. “Do it in the bay when we get the others and—”

Murdock went rigid. “Shut up.”

“I just—”

“Close your stupid mouth.”

Vance rigged his deadweight. “All I meant was . . .” He stopped. “What’s that?”

Murdock looked at his shirt. A lively melody was pouring from his pocket.
Coming out of my cage and . . .

It was the Killers. “Mr. Brightside.” A catchy pop song with mordant lyrics that Tina knew a psychiatrist would appreciate.
And it’s all in my head but
. . .

“It’s my phone,” Jo said.

Murdock stared at his pocket.

“You stole it off my kitchen table when you broke into my house, didn’t you?” she said.

Vance straightened up. “It might be the cops. Throw it in the lake.”

“It might be Kanan. Let me answer,” she said.

The cheery ringtone neared the end of the verse. If it went to voice mail, she was done. Her voice mail recording would be her valedictory speech, her farewell message.

Murdock took it from his pocket and checked the display. “‘Gabe.’”

Jo felt tears rush toward her eyes. “He’s Kanan’s army buddy. Served with him in Afghanistan. Kanan won’t call on his own phone—too easy to trace.”

Vance shook his head. “He’s her boyfriend or something. Dump it.”

“For Christ’s sake, you want to take the chance?” Jo said. “Lose your shot at the payoff?”

The ringtone hit the chorus. Murdock shoved the phone into Jo’s hands. Then he grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and put his ear next to hers.

One shot,
she thought, and answered. “Gabe.”

“I’m at your place. We still on for tonight?” he said.

She blinked back her emotions. “Absolutely. It’s now or never. Tell Kanan the exchange is on—the lab sample for his wife and son. These people just need the time and the location.”

Please, Quintana—play along, and get ready to redial the police and triangulate my location from the cell phone signal.
The silence stretched.

Vance muttered, “It’s a trick. Throw the phone in the lake.”

Gabe spoke again, his voice measured. “And if both the sample and the Kanan family are delivered safely, everybody goes away happy.”

“Including me,” Jo said.

Murdock grabbed the phone. “I want to talk to Kanan. How do you put it on speaker?” He fumbled with the controls and hit the speaker button. “Put Kanan on.”

A thick silence filled the air. Jo willed Gabe to develop a new voice. She willed her legs to hold her up.

A new voice came on the line. “This is Kanan. What do you want?”

“For starters, prove it’s you,” Murdock said.

Jo’s legs weakened. It was Ferd. She felt as though she’d just opened the cockpit door and seen that a stewardess was flying the plane.

“Don’t play games with me,” Ferd said. “We don’t have time.”

Murdock snapped his fingers at Vance and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Get Riva and Shepard, quick. They can verify it’s him.”

Vance wiped his nose and ran off into the fog to find them.

Murdock said, “Give me proof, or you don’t get the family back. No tickee, no laundry.”

Ferd coughed, hesitating. Jo could barely see straight.

Ferd cleared his throat. “What kind of proof do you want? The security specs for the Johannesburg lab? Electron microscopy proving that Chira-Sayf accurately predicted the chirality of the carbon nanotubes? Or do you just want me to take the Damascus saber and shove it down your blowhole?”

Murdock breathed heavily.

“Well, jerkwad?” Ferd said.

Jo thought:
Keep the Seven of Jo photo on your computer, Ferd. Make yourself a calendar.
She leaned toward the phone. “Ian, put Gabe back on.”

Murdock said, “We don’t need to talk to his pal.”

She glanced at him. “Gabe has to arrange the rendezvous. Ian can’t hang on to new information—he has a brain injury. If you talk to him, he’ll just forget everything.”

“Yeah?” To the phone, loudly, Murdock said, “What happened to you, Kanan? And where?”

There was a heavy pause. “Southern Africa. Monkey virus.”

Murdock looked at Jo. “That so?”

She shut her eyes and tried to stop her heart from stammer-stepping. “There’s been an outbreak in the Congo. It’s transmissible to humans. Go online from my phone—the World Veterinary Association will confirm it.”

Gabe came back on the line. “Just so we understand—Ian brings the lab sample, you bring Jo and the Kanan family.”

Jo piped in. “And, Gabe—when Ian transports Slick, make sure he handles it with extreme caution. After this much time, it’s likely to be extremely volatile.”

In the distance, she heard voices. Vance was coming back with Calder and Shepard.

“Hold on. I need to confer with my associates,” Murdock said.

“We can’t wait while you hold a tea party. We have to get the stuff and bring it to you within the hour,” Gabe said.

“Why?” Murdock said.

“That’s how long I figure Kanan and I can stay ahead of the police. You want the stuff, you meet us. Sixty minutes or nothing.”

Jo knew Gabe was cool, but she didn’t know he was such a gambler.

“Public place,” Gabe said. “Open ground. You dig?”

“Fine,” Murdock said. “You leave the stuff in a locker at—”

“No. Simultaneous exchange. We see Jo and the Kanans, or you get nothing.”

Murdock breathed. “Someplace where the cops can’t blend in with the crowd.”

Gabe paused a beat. “The Stanford campus.”

The voices approached. Murdock hesitated.

“Top of the quad,” Gabe said. “It’s neutral ground. Wide open for hundreds of yards in all directions. No way for you to ambush us.”

Murdock stared at the fog, looking for Vance and Calder.

“Sixty minutes,” Gabe said. “Jo, hang in there. And, assholes—they’d all better be in tip-top shape. You get it?”

“Yeah. And so’d the stuff.”

Jo said, “Get going. I’ll talk to you in an hour.”

“See you there.” Gabe cut off the call.

“Shit.” Murdock grabbed the phone, but Gabe was gone. “If he’s lying, you’ll pay.”

Gabe turned to Ferd. “You did good.”

“Did I?”

“
Huevos
like brass bowling balls.” He called directory assistance and told the operator, “I need the number for the SFPD Northern Station. Connect me.”

Ferd stood beneath the porch light and scratched roughly at his face. “What do we do now?”

“We get the police to triangulate Jo’s location from her cell signal.” Gabe glanced at Ferd. “Where’d you learn to talk trash to thugs?”

Ferd scratched his arms and chest. “Dealing with psycho übergeeks at Compurama.”

The operator connected Gabe to the police station. He said, “I need to speak to Lieutenant Tang about the Kanan investigation. It’s an emergency.”

The desk officer said, “Please hold.”

Ferd took his glasses off. “What are you going to do about Jo?”

Gabe looked at him. “I’m going after her. That’s what I do. I find people and get them back.”

30

A
my Tang and Officer Frank Liu walked up the sidewalk. The fog was twisting its way between buildings. Tang pointed at the cross street where the stolen red Navigator was parked.

“You take the street. I’ll take the alley,” she said. “Nice and casual. We’ll meet at the other end of the block.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Liu headed around the corner. Tang walked to the alley’s entrance. About sixty yards in, light leaked from a window, shining on the water that trickled along the concrete gully in the alley’s center. She unbuttoned her black peacoat and popped the snap on her holster.

Silently she walked into the darkness. She smelled wet cardboard and garbage. She scanned doorways and unlit windows. Swung her gaze up to the rooftops.

She heard the hum of a ventilation system coming from a building to her left. The noise of traffic echoed off the walls, dimming with every step she took. She neared the beauty salon. Upstairs, the windows were lit. Shadows crossed the ceiling. She crept along. Forty feet farther on was the window of the sporting goods store. It was frosted glass, crosshatched with reinforcing wire. Beyond it a metal door was painted a peeling red. She walked past.

Inside, a figure moved around.

She kept walking. Two feet past the door, she looked back. The figure inside the window was pacing back and forth. With the frosted glass, it was impossible to tell whether the figure was Kanan. She crossed to the far side of the alley and backed into the shadows, watching.