typea_all (20 page)

     "You're crazy, lady!"

     "It's America," I yelled. "You're allowed to be crazy until you kill someone."

     I'll never know why Ryan didn't think that was funny.

******

     I usually get to the market at night when I'm tired, but thanks to the FBI, I was able to make it during daylight when I was freshly filled with chocolate chip pancakes. I took my time and looked at a lot of labels, picking out low-fat low-cholesterol items to balance the almond and chocolate filled croissants that were also in my cart.

     It was a mild trip with no games of bumper carts, and I was even friendly to the cashier. I admit I was tempted to speak up when he wouldn't take one of my coupons that was out of date, but the chocolate chips were still keeping me happy.

     When I got to the car, I sprayed a few rags with the alcohol I kept in the car, and I cleaned off the bags before I put them in the back seat. Then when I got home, I brought the bags in, cleaned off all of the items I purchased, and put everything away.

     Later, I showered, and had already changed into my nightgown and started to watch my soaps, when Ryan called.

     "Hey, Brooke."

     "Ryan, I've missed you."

     "Listen, I'm sorry about last Friday."

     "You did nothing wrong. I'm the one who should be sorry."

     "You shouldn't be. I've been working too hard, and two weekends in a row was just too much. I took it out on you, that's all."

     "Let's forget all about that, okay? I really miss you, it's been too long since we've been together."

     "I second that. Come to my place this weekend, Friday night after work."

     "I'll be there with bells ringing."

     "And I'll have my clanger warm and ready for you."

     That's the Ryan I know.

Chapter 19

     In the morning I went to a parade. Or to be more accurate, I led a parade.

     When I looked out the window after I dressed, I saw a plain four-door black car with two guys parked outside on my street. From the window I thought they were Agents Frick and Frack, AKA Agent Samuels and Agent Jackson, but I couldn't tell for sure. Whoever it was, I figured, they didn't mind that I knew they were there. Why else would they park right in front of my house?

     I also looked down the street, to Ventnor Avenue, and saw another car parked along the curb. It was a big black car of some type with one guy sitting in it. It looked like the driver was staring in my direction. I knew it wasn't Chester because he couldn't drive with two broken arms, so maybe is was another federal agent.

     I was wondering who all these guys really were, so I put on my owl earrings, each a bright owl with rhinestones.

     When I pulled out of the garage I had trouble backing out and making my turn. The black car was parked directly opposite my driveway and there wasn't enough room for me to maneuver.

     I was kind of embarrassed for whoever was in the car. If they were supposed to be following me discreetly, they were certainly doing a bad job of it. I hit my horn and waved my hand, indicating that they had to move their car. The driver started the car and backed up about 50 feet.

I checked my rear view mirror as I drove to the corner, but the black car on my street hadn't moved. Maybe I was wrong. After I made my turn and drove about a block, I checked the mirror again. Both of the black cars were on my tail. Black cars, it seems, are very popular when playing cops and robbers. Right behind me was the big car with only one guy in it. The other car, with two guys that was parked on my street, was in the rear.

This was going to be fun.

Rather than drive straight to work, I led these guys on a little chase. I didn't drive fast or anything, but followed the speed limit. I just wanted to see how long these guys were going to follow me.

I turned left and went down to Atlantic Avenue, then turned right and checked the mirror. They were still there. At City Hall and the police station, I turned right and then left into the police station parking lot and then stopped a few seconds to see if they were still following me. They weren't.

I drove out of the parking lot, made a left back onto Atlantic Avenue and then turned left again to get to the Longport Bridge. They were there again in my rearview mirror. I made the light at that last turn but they didn't, so I pulled over and waited.

I started up when the light changed, and headed across the bridge. I turned left onto Bay Avenue and all the way to Shore Road. I turned left onto Shore Road to the traffic circle. Jersey is known for its traffic circles. Rather than go to the expense of building intersections and putting up traffic lights, Jersey builds traffic circles. Somewhere in the archives there must be a law about who has the right-of-way, but to Jersey drivers it is a free-for-all. 

I went into the circle and made three complete rotations, with both cars still following me. I suppose objects in my mirror are really dumber than they appear. When I eventually pulled into the lot at work, both black cars kept driving and I didn't see them stop. I was a few minutes late but it was worth it. Before getting out of the car, I made a note to look into getting a cell phone.

When I got into the lab, Joan told me that Lipschitz wanted to see me. I walked over to his office, afraid that I was going to be fired, but instead got a big "hello and sit down."

     "Good morning, Brooke." He was so friendly it was scary. He had more white stuff around his mouth than usual, and it looked like he was trying to do something with his hair. Instead of being combed over straight from one ear to the other, there was a little wave off to the left. The effect was not an improvement because the wave made it even more obvious that all his hair came from the other side. His stomach looked even bigger today; when he was standing, it rolled all the way over his belt. He probably had to jack-up his stomach at night to get to his buckle.

     "Listen.  I'm sorry about not coming in yesterday. It was..."

     "That's all right, Brooke.  I don't want to know anything about what's going on. You don't have to tell me anything. In fact, please don't."

     "That's fair."

     "I just have three questions."

     "Shoot."

     "Am I...I mean, are we at the hospital, in any danger because of your, how should I say it, your activities?"

     "Absolutely not."

     "Fine. Second question. I'm not sure how to phrase this."

     "Just blurt it out."

     "Okay. Are there people that are looking for you, but they know you by a different name?"

     "Are you asking if I am in the Federal witness relocation program?"

     "Well, yes."

     "I am not. Brooke Castle is my real name, and my only name."

     "Fine. Last question. Will these activities result in your having to vacate your current position in the near future? Will you be going to a federal institution of any sort?"

     "No. You can rest assured that I plan on being a longtime employee of the hospital."

     He forced a smile, obviously not happy with my last response. "That's good. I appreciate your candor."

     "You have to believe me, this is really nothing."

     "Say no more." He put up his hand like a school crossing guard. "I don't want to know."

     He stood up. I took his lead, and he started to escort me out of the office. "If you need any more time off because of these, eh, activities just let me know."

     "I certainly will. And thank you."

     By the time I got my last word out, he had already shut the door, and I heard the lock being turned.  I don't know what the FBI guy said to Lipschitz to get me the day off, but he genuinely seemed a little scared. Just what I needed, a boss that thought I was public enemy number one.

******

     Joan was feeling fine that day, but she asked if I wanted to do some of the tests anyway. I jumped at the chance.

     "Did you ask Lipschitz?" I asked her.

     "Who cares what he thinks? I know you really like working in the lab, so have a good time. I'll stay here and take blood. It looks like a light day."

     Joan was right about it being a light day, there were hardly any tests. I spent some of the time talking with Joan, and even went over to the in-vitro lab to talk with Gail and Eileen.

     At about 4:40, the lobby was empty so Joan left early. She told me to leave as well, but I wanted to finish up a few things and look at one of the machines I had not used yet.

     I was sitting at a desk, reading, when a man walked in.

     "Brooke Castle?"

     I looked up, "Yes?" He was young and good looking, casually dressed, and carrying an envelope.

     "I have a package for you." He walked over and handed me the envelope.

     I opened it and pulled out several photographs of Adam and me in the Fuddrucker's restaurant.

     "What's this?"

     "Mr. Breslin wants you to have them."

     "I don't know any Mr. Breslin."

     "You may know him as Big Jimmy."  I knew him as Mr. No-Neck. "If you don't do what Mr. Breslin wants you to do, the man in the picture with you here will be very sorry for it."

     I stood up and he backed away. Maybe he heard about Chester. I was really frightened, but I forgot to scream.

     "Are you threatening me?"

     "I don't think of it as a threat, just a reverse business arrangement."

     "How's that?"

     "You do your business, as Mr. Breslin requests, and you won't get paid back."

     I pretended to be thinking, but I was looking around for something that might give me protection if things got physical. There were no knifes or sharp objects around, just some bottles of stain that we use for certain tests.

     "Do you know who this person is in the pictures?" I asked.

     "We have his picture and his license plate number. Even if we didn't know who he is, we'd find out fast."

     "I don't like being threatened. Maybe I'll just call the police, or the FBI."

     He started to walk toward me, and I started backing up. He talked as he walked. "You call the police, you'll be sorry. You call the FBI, you'll be sorry. You don't do what Mr. Breslin wants and you'll be sorry."

     "Stop right there." He kept walking and I kept backing up until I was against the wall shelf.

     "Mr. Breslin said you weren't the cooperating kind. He told me to give you a little lesson on cooperation."

     As he got closer, I reached behind me and felt around for anything that I could throw. My hand felt a beaker. I gripped the beaker and swung my arm in an arc, releasing the beaker when it was aimed at him.

     The beaker broke against his chest, splashing dark purple liquid over his face, chest, and arms.

     "What is this stuff?" He tried to wipe the liquid away but it only spread.

     "It's acid, very strong acid. You may not feel it burning yet, but soon it will be burning your skin off." In actuality, it was a harmless stuff called Wright's Stain that we use for blood tests.

     He started walking toward me again. I grabbed another container from the shelf and held it in front of me.

     "Once that stuff starts to burn, you won't be able to stop it. It'll burn right through your clothes and your skin, and then burn out your organs."

     He looked at me, looked down at his clothes covered in purple, and turned to run out. Just then, Lipschitz walked in the door.

     "I see everyone's gone for the..." He saw the guy standing there with Wright's Stain all over him, and glass and purple liquid all over the floor. "What's going on?"

     The goon ran out, clipping Lipschitz on the shoulder and making him spin around. Ignoring Lipschitz, I ran after the goon and started yelling for help. There were one or two people around, but all they saw was some guy covered in purple stain with a mad woman running after him. He ran out to the parking lot and into a waiting car, a red muscle car, which then sped away.

     I went back into the lab and found Lipschitz cleaning up the floor with rags.

     "Are you okay, John?"

     "What was that all about?"

     "You don't want to know."

     "I thought you said that no one was in danger?"

     "John, I promise that there is nothing to worry about. As soon as I clean up in here I'm going to make a call and straighten everything out."

     "Well..."

     "I promise. That was just some crazy person."

     Lipschitz helped me clean up for a few minutes, and then he left. I took Agent Jackson's card out of my bag and called.

     "Special Agent Jackson," he answered himself.