The Blacker Death: An Ebola Thriller (16 page)

“Anything else?”

“Not much. Our boys in the 26
^th
responded to a domestic disturbance call on Girard Avenue about two hours ago. They found a dead guy in the bedroom. The ME on the scene said it could be Ebola. Everyone who was there is being held at the station. Other than that, it’s disaster as usual.”

I told him about our meeting.

“Shit. When were they going to let us know?” he said.

“They just found out themselves, Jimmy. Apparently, the right hand doesn’t talk to the left.”

“All right. I’d better let our group know. We need one of our people in their meetings from now on. We need to get those masks and gloves out now, and we need to set up that holding area ASAP. How’s Izzy doing?”

I looked at her and she smiled.

“She’s fine,” I said. “I’m taking her out for Belgian Waffles later.”

I hung up.

“You
do
know that what you call Belgian Waffles is an American invention?” she said.

“Does that mean you don’t want one, maybe with some ice cream and strawberries on it?”

She took my hand and we continued walking. “I’ll think about it.”

We stopped at Franklin Square Park, found a bench, and talked about nothing for about an hour.

“How the hell did we ever get here?” I said, when the conversation died.

“What do you mean, Bam?”

“Think about it. What are the chances of your pal, Birot, catching Ebola, let alone a strain that’s so rare no one else has even heard of it? He wasn’t in Africa, and as far as we know, he wasn’t with sleeping with an African hooker. Where the hell did the whoring bastard get it?”

“You shouldn’t talk about François like that. He had his faults, but he was a good man.”

“You’re defending him?”

“You didn’t know him, Bam, not like I did.”

“You’re right. I was out of line, as usual. I’m sorry.”

She whispered in my ear, “You can make it up to me later.”

Without a doubt, that girl had me wrapped around her little finger.

“The missing piece of this puzzle is how Birot got Ebola in the first place. I need to know more about those outbreaks Champion didn’t want to talk about.”

“You do know how to kill the mood, don’t you?” Izzy said.

“It’s another of my hobbies.”

“How could his infection be connected to a previous outbreak?”

“I don’t know, but it’s a coincidence, and I don’t like coincidences.”

I dialed Tim again, and hung up. He called back from Pittsburgh.

“Who’s in Pittsburgh,” I said.

“No one. That’s the point. What’s up big brother?”

“I need your help breaking a few more laws.”

I filled him in about what was going on. Then I told him about the previous classified outbreaks and how I thought there might be a connection.

“This might take a while, Bam. Ebola goes back to the seventies. That information might not even be in digital form.”

“Just do your best.”

“Yep. Gotta go. Talk to you later.”

“He could get in a lot of trouble for that,” Izzy said after I hung up.

“I know. Come on. Let’s head back.”

Except for the guards, the Six was deserted when we got back. We had a couple hours to kill until the meet and greet with Carmine, so I called my son in Montana. All things being equal, the middle of nowhere was probably the best place to be, given what was happening. I asked him how things were, asked if he kept in touch with his mother, told him that I loved him and was proud of him, and said good-bye. I called my daughter next, but my ex-wife answered. She told me that Peggy had found a boyfriend and moved out. She wouldn’t give me her number. I asked her to tell Peggy I’d called, told her that I hoped everything was good with her, and hung up.

I poked around the Internet for a while. The lead story was a shootout in a bar in West Philly. It seemed a local gang decided to rob the place and everyone in it, but the everyone in it turned out to be a rival gang. By the time police arrived on the scene, four were dead and the bar was on fire. The blaze took down half a block of row homes before the fire department put it out. I shut down the computer and we headed out.

That’s when Dr. Williamson called.

“What can I do for you, Doc?”

“I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate all the help and support you gave during Mr. Driscoll’s time here,” he said.

“Doc, are you all right?”

I knew the answer to my question before the words came out of his mouth.

“I have symptoms.”

“Shit. What can I do?”

“Nothing, Bam. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“Look, I’ll stop by. I’ll bring you a burger. Best you’ve ever had. We’ll figure out something.”

“Don’t. You don’t want to come anywhere near this place. Good-bye, Bam. Pray for us.”

He hung up.

I’m a grown man. I’m a hard-ass. I’m an FBI agent, for God’s sake. So, why the hell was I crying?

I told Izzy about the call. I told her to keep driving. I pulled myself together.

The intersection of Front and Christian Streets was in a section of Philly called Queen Village, about ten minutes from the Six and a stone’s throw from the river. Izzy pulled over on Front, a block up from Christian and in sight of the meeting place. I left her my phone with the tracking app running. If the Caddy moved, she was to follow. If it looked like I needed help, she was to call in the cavalry. That was the plan.

I walked down to the intersection and checked it out. A few couples were standing around talking outside a restaurant on the corner. The Caddy was parked with its engine running a few hundred feet away on Christian under the I-95 overpass behind some other cars. I lit a cigarette, went over and tapped on the back window. Carmine rolled it down.

“Other side,” he said.

He was alone in the back seat. Two of his goons were up front. The third one in his little gang was MIA. I walked around to the other side of the car. The thug in the passenger seat got out and stopped me.

“Your piece,” he said, with his hand out.

“Ain’t happening, chief.”

“Then, we got ourselves a problem.”

It looked like the meet was about to turn sour, but Carmine nodded to him, and he let it go. He took out a handheld device that I recognized as an electronic bug checker.

“I’m not wearing a wire,” I said.

“Like I believe you, cop.” He turned the thing on, wanded me, and said, “He’s clean, boss. No wire. No phone.”

Carmine told me to get in, so I did. He nodded to the driver and we pulled out, turning right on Columbus Boulevard, heading south along the river past the upscale places, beyond the regentrification to where the piers and warehouses were abandoned.

The guy in front leaned around his seat and pointed his gun at me. “Hand it over. Nice and easy.”

I handed him my .38, butt first. “I want that back when we’re done, punk.”

Carmine lit up a cigar. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

“I like your flower,” I said, pointing to the carnation in his lapel.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your flower. Like the one you were wearing when you whacked Gyro. You know, the one you left on his body as a little going away present? That’s right. We have surveillance video of you before the murder wearing that flower, and of you not wearing it afterwards.”

“That’s your evidence? A flower? That’s bullshit.”

“Don’t you remember that swab they took from you during booking? DNA’s a funny thing, Carmine. Just one little speck of it is enough to place you at the scene of the crime. With that, we’ve got motive, opportunity, and evidence. That’s murder one. And this isn’t New York. Pennsylvania has a death penalty.”

He blew smoke from his expensive cigar in my face. “Who else knows about this?”

“No one for now.”

“How much do you want?”

“Five hundred thousand and I make the evidence disappear. I think that’s a fair price for a life, don’t you?”

“Fuck you, Matthews.”

“Carmine, Carmine, Carmine. You shouldn’t have killed poor Gyro like that when all he was doing was keeping your little sister’s husband happy.”

“Gyro was a piece of shit. He got what he deserved. Live by the needle, die by the needle. That’s justice.”

“I can’t disagree with you on that, but there’s always a price to pay, and now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t like being threatened.”

“It’s not a threat, Carmine. It’s an offer. Listen. You and I, we’re both businessmen, right? Here’s how it works. I make you an offer. You make me a counteroffer.”

“How about this for a counteroffer, Mr. Businessman? I do you like I did him and save myself the five hundred Gs. I’ve got plenty of smack left from the Gyro deal. I guarantee you’ll go out with a smile on your face.”

“That’s how you got him there? A drug deal?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Nothing. Pretty smart. How’d you get it out of the hotel?”

“A friend.”

“What friend?”

“No more questions.”

We drove out onto a pier and stopped. Carmine’s other associate was waiting for us beside a pile of rope and an anchor.

“You think I don’t have a backup plan?” I said. “You think I’m stupid?”

“I think you’re a dead man, Matthews.”

“Let me ask you something, Carmine. Does Tony know about this?”

Tree Trunk chewed on his cigar like a man adjusting his tie because he didn’t want to answer the question.

“I asked you a question, Carmine. Does Anthony Garotto, your boss, know you came down to Philly to murder Gyro the Greek? Does he know you plan on killing a cop? Because that’s a whole new ballgame.”

Carmine took the gun from the guy in the front seat and told them both to get out of the car. He waited until the doors were closed.

“You’re fucking dead,” he said.

I had to laugh. “They didn’t know, did they? You didn’t tell Tony, and you didn’t tell your buddies that this was your little off-the-books operation. What do think they’re going to do when you get back to New York? You think they’re going to keep their mouths shut for you? Or do you think they’re going to sing to save their own skins? Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

Carmine held the gun to my head. “I’ll take care of them. But you? I’m done talking to you.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came a voice from the car speakers.

“Jesus, Tim. Could you have waited any longer?” I said.

“Who the hell is that?” said Carmine.

“Your friendly neighborhood OnStar representative, Mr. DiPasquale. I’ve been recording your conversation since Agent Matthews got in the car. We have every word you said, including your confession to the crime of first-degree murder and your intent to commit another. I feel it’s only fair to warn you that everything you have said and will say from this point on is admissible as evidence in a court of law.”

“This is bullshit. You can’t do this without a warrant. I know my rights.”

Tim worked for an agency that sent out for warrants like we’d send out for coffee. I’d thought about asking him to get one, but figured we wouldn’t be needing it for what I had in mind.

“We’ve got a warrant, Carmine.” I lied. So what? “And we’ve got you dead to rights. Give me the gun.”

I’ve had a loaded gun held to my head a few times over the years. Can’t say I liked it much. With the barrel against your skull like that, you can feel the tension change in the killer’s hand when he’s about to pull the trigger. That’s when you either make your move or make your peace.

Carmine hadn’t reached that point yet when we heard the sirens and saw the cop cars pulling up onto the pier. The cavalry had arrived. Carmine’s boys tossed their guns and my .38 into the river and put their hands up. That .38 and I had been through a lot together. I still miss it, but it was a good and honorable death in the line of duty.

“Your choice, Carmine,” I said. “We can both die right here, right now, or you can give me the gun and take your chances in the witness protection program.”

“What’re you taking about?”

“I’m talking about saving your sorry ass. When Garotto finds out what you did, you’re a dead man.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Maybe so, but what about Madeline? What about little William and the one on the way? What do you think Tony’s going to do to them when he finds out?”

“If he so much as lays a finger on little Willie…”

“You can’t protect him, Carmine. You can’t protect any of them, not against Tony. You know that.”

I felt his hand ease up on the gun.

“I can guarantee you immunity from prosecution. I can give you new lives and new identities. The boy lost his father, Carmine. You’re all he’s got now. Time to man up and testify against Tony Garotto. You’ve got five seconds to decide before those cops get here. What’s it going be?”