2 The Dante Connection (19 page)

“It will make Genevieve feel much safer,” Francine said. Her attempt at manipulation shocked me. What shocked me even more was that Manny lowered his hand and looked at me.

“Okay, Doc. I’ll keep it on for you.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Before I could give in to the strong urge to reveal Francine’s manipulations, Manny left.

“Come on, let’s get connected.” Francine reached out to me, but let her hand drop immediately. Instead she motioned with her head that I was to follow her to the dining room table. “I have that camera connected to my tablet, but we’ll set it up on your computer. The screen is bigger and it will be easier for everyone to see.”

“It would actually be much better in my viewing room,” I said as I stopped at the table. Francine had taken my seat and was tapping away on the laptop’s keyboard. I stood behind her, wondering why I was not more upset that she had so unceremoniously taken possession of my computer. I had always been obsessive about giving anyone access to my home, my computer, my viewing room, my life. This, which I had thought was ingrained and nigh-on impossible to change, had indeed morphed from compulsive distrust to something I had still to name.

“There.” Francine leaned back in the chair and presented the monitor to us with two open palms. “He can’t hear us yet, but we have visual and audio.”

On the monitor was the view of Manny’s hand on a steering wheel. Beyond that were the windscreen and a street flying past. Manny was driving extremely fast. It had at most been four minutes since he had left my apartment, but he was already turning into the museum’s street. Again I felt discomfort in my chest and tightness in my throat.

“I sincerely hope he doesn’t enter without waiting for the bomb squad.”

Colin turned his chair to look up at me. “He’s an arsehole, but he’s smart, Jenny. He’ll be fine.”

I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. I merely nodded and looked at the monitor again. The view shook as Manny got out his car. “Oh, for the love of Pete, what are all these people doing here?”

“Who’s he talking to?” I asked.

“Himself, most likely.” Francine sat up and looked around the table. “Genevieve, where is your smartphone?”

“Why?”

“If we phone Manny we can put him on speakerphone like you said.”

“Oh yes, of course.” I retrieved my smartphone from my handbag and handed it to Francine. She stood up and handled my phone as if it were hers. I sat down next to Colin and gave in to the need to move the laptop so it was equally spaced between the two chairs. On the monitor Manny’s hand obscured the view for a second and then he pulled out his smartphone.

“What now, Doc?”

“It’s Francine. We have the camera going and you’re on speakerphone. If you get your earpiece in, we’re all set.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” He sighed loudly and opened the car door. It took him a moment to find the Bluetooth headset amongst a shocking number of documents on the passenger seat. Seconds later we were looking at the museum again. “Okay, you are now in my head. Happy, Doc?”

“I assume you are referring to my satisfaction with our connection and not my general state of being.” I leaned towards my smartphone that Francine had placed on the table in front of us. “Then yes, I’m happy.”

The camera shook with vertical forward movement. “Manny, where are you going?”

“To evacuate the building, missy. Now get out of my head until I need you or I’m disconnecting.” He opened the door and the next four minutes were a flurry of activity. The security guard at the door had to locate the curator who had to be convinced of Manny’s credentials. I was impressed with Manny’s professional, controlled and calm handling of the situation. It was a side of him that I had not personally experienced.

People started exiting through the doors at the same time as the sound of sirens came closer. I was riveted to the monitor and only peripherally noticed that Vinnie and Francine were standing behind us. Manny was now speaking to the head of security and the curator. It would appear that there had been around forty people in the building preparing for the evening’s grand opening. I hadn’t been counting the people leaving the building, but an estimate had me sure only a handful could still be in the building.

The camera swung to the front doors. I recognised the two GIPN team members from the gallery. Quick introductions were made. Through the doors came a few more officers, one of whom looked familiar in a jarring way. My mind was flung back to the gallery when I had also noticed a man in a uniform who brought the same alarming recognition. If only I could place his features. If only I could put a name and date to the man who now moved off the screen.

“Doc, are you listening?” Manny’s question halted my memory recall process. I had felt the name and date entering my conscious mind, but it was lost again. I must have taken too long to answer. “Bloody hell. Doc?”

“I’m here. I’m listening, Manny.”

“What is the name of that painting again?”

“Ilex Wood at Majorca with Blue Pigs by John Singer Sargent.” Colin answered before I could. Manny didn’t acknowledge him. He relayed the answer to the GIPN leader and curator, and then the camera was moving again. Thankfully Manny was listening to the GIPN leader and staying behind the men dressed in appropriate gear.

They stopped at the entrance to a large room. The floor looked like polished cement, the walls painted a light plain colour. Lighting, cleverly worked into the ceiling fittings, lit the room. The walls were covered with paintings.

“There, that’s the one.” Colin pointed at a painting on the screen.

“It’s on the wall to the left, Manny,” I said towards the smartphone.

“We see it,” Manny said. “Only speak to me now if you have something really important to say.”

I didn’t consider my affirmative answer to be really important, so I didn’t answer. I continued watching. Manny turned around and I saw a young man wearing a blast-resistant suit. He wasn’t wearing the helmet. I was about to ask where Edward was when a robot entered the room. I had once seen a similar robot on a news report about a bomb blast in the United States. I knew bomb squads often used these robots to enter buildings or rooms first.

It was a slow process and I was intrigued by the procedure that was carried out almost to a checklist precision. I relaxed a little, knowing that Manny would be safe with people who seemed to be competent in their job. After what felt like hours, but was only ten minutes, the robot had detected traces of explosives and the EOD technician was moving in. He was wearing his helmet. They had not been successful at getting the robot to handle the painting.

Manny had moved in behind one of the appropriately dressed policeman. On the monitor all we could see now was the back of his black protective uniform. Even the voices were difficult to discern. The seriousness of the situation had changed the verbal exchanges to only what was deemed necessary. Voices were clipped and often not loud enough to make out clearly what was being said.

“Doc, you there?” Manny moved from behind the policeman. “They’re calling for my assist.”

“I’m here, Manny. Are you sure it is safe to be there?”

“Must be if they’re calling me.” Manny walked past another bomb squad member and we could see where he was heading. The EOD technician had taken the painting down from the wall and placed flat on the floor. The back was facing up and there was a device attached to it. In my ignorant, unprofessional opinion, it looked too flat to be a bomb. From what I could tell it was about the size of Francine’s tablet.

“It’s addressed to Doctor Lenard.” The EOD technician pointed to a post-it note attached to the dark plastic box. It was larger than the normal-sized post-it notes and bright pink. On it was some writing, but Manny was too far away to have a clear view. He must have gone down on his haunches, because the painting was suddenly much closer. Unfortunately Manny was moving too much for the camera to focus so I could read what was on the note.

“What does it say?” I asked. On the monitor Manny reached for the note and paused. He was wearing his thin, black driving gloves and I wondered if it was cold inside the building.

“Is it safe to remove?” He must have asked the EOD technician because I was unqualified to answer that question.

“Sure.”

The moment Manny’s gloved hand touched the bright pink piece of paper the monitor lit up. It was as if someone had shone a spotlight directly into the camera. A heinous, loud hissing sound was followed by a moment of silence and then lots of shouting. The white on the screen faded to reveal the ceiling of the room. Had the camera fallen off or was Manny lying on his back on the floor? I was frozen in my chair. I could barely breathe not knowing what I was looking at, what had happened.

“Millard, what’s going on?” Colin leaned towards the computer and smartphone. “Millard!”

The view on the monitor shook a little and Manny’s hands came into view. As he turned them slowly from one side to the other as if in disbelief, they began shaking uncontrollably. His gloves were shredded, his hands red and bloody.

Blackness rushed at me faster than I had ever experienced it. One moment I was looking at Manny’s shaking, damaged hands. The next moment there was only safe, warm blackness.

Chapter SEVENTEEN

I knew this time it had been bad. Worse than in a very, very long time. When the blackness receded and my mind returned to the reality in my apartment, it was dark outside. I was on the sofa, hugging my knees, keening softly and still rocking. It took almost a minute and a lot of rationalisation for me to stop rocking and let go of my knees.

“You’re back,” Colin said next to me. Close, but not touching. He had been reading, but the book now laid forgotten on his lap. His nonverbal cues told me he was worried. Extremely worried. “Are you okay now, Jenny?”

“How’s Manny? Is he… is he…” I couldn’t finish the question.

“The bastard is fine. He’s in hospital now, his hands are pretty badly burned, but the doctors say he’ll be okay.”

“His hands will be okay?”

“His hands will be fine. The damage was mostly to the skin, no nerve or deep tissue damage. His gloves took most of the damage. A good thing he wasn’t wearing latex gloves to handle the evidence. Those leather driving gloves saved his hands. As it is, the doctors don’t think skin grafts will be needed.”

“I want to see him.” I stood up, but after numerous hours of sitting in one place, my body protested. Colin jumped up and caught me by my elbows just as my legs folded under me.

“Hey, slow down a bit.” He gently pushed me back on the sofa. “You’ve been out of it for a while. Catch your breath first.”

“How long was I like this?”

“Eight hours.”

“How did I get here?” I looked at the sofa.

“You were rocking pretty strongly and I was scared you were going to fall off the dining room chair, so I carried you here.” He smiled at my dismayed expression. “You didn’t particularly enjoy being touched. It was quite a fight to get you here.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know why I was apologising for something that was not in my control. I had worked hard to limit my exposure to things that could trigger such episodes. Watching Manny getting blown up by a bomb which had been addressed to me definitely qualified as a trigger. A trigger that I had not been prepared for.

Colin sat down next to me and took my hands in his. “Jenny, I didn’t know what to do to help you. Francine researched this online and found that the best thing was just to leave you, but stay close enough so that you knew you weren’t alone. Is there something I could’ve done differently?”

I mentally pushed away my embarrassment. “No. Oh God, this shouldn’t happen anymore. I thought I had it under better control.”

“So why was it so strong then?”

I considered my answer with great care. Admitting this was not easy. “It was the shock of seeing something violent happen to someone I care about that triggered my episode.”

“You care about Millard?” Colin closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “Of course you care about Millard.”

“I’m not being disloyal to you because I care about Manny. I know how you feel about him.”

Colin stopped me by shaking his head. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m going to say this fast and hopefully never again. My anger towards Millard is not personal and it is. I believe that he should’ve been more suspicious about the intel that he was being fed. He should’ve double-checked it, he should’ve questioned it. But I also understand that once the big guns took over, he didn’t have a say. He doesn’t even know if anything came from that intel.”

“He’s just an easy target for your anger,” I concluded.

Colin’s lips tightened. “He makes it easy. But he is one of the few law enforcement types that I respect. He has integrity and a strong code he lives by and he’s good at his job.”

“I want to see him.”

“Are you sure? He is in hospital.”

“Why do you say it with such meaning? I thought you said he is okay.”

“Oh, I just thought that you might want to wait until he is released because you don’t like going to hospitals.”

There was truth in what Colin said. I abhorred hospitals, but fleeting micro-expressions hinted at something more to his words. I gaped at him. “You are using my fears as a shield to hide behind. You are the one who doesn’t want to visit Manny. Why not?”

My words caused Colin such discomfort that for a moment I thought he was going to leave. Eventually he groaned long and loud. “God, I really admire and sometimes even envy your skills. But it sucks being at the receiving end of it. Oh, never mind. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

He got up and held out his hand to me. His face told me he was closed to any further personal discussion. Just coming out of an episode, I didn’t mind all that much putting that discussion off for later. Manny and Colin’s relationship fascinated me and I intended to get back to this.

I surprised myself by putting my hand in his and allowing him to pull me up.

“Okay?” Colin asked, looking intently at me.

“I’m fine. I just got up too fast before. Can we go now?” I wanted to see Manny, to make sure for myself that he was okay. I wanted to hear him argue with me, be sarcastic and antagonise Colin.

“Sure, let’s go.”

The drive to the hospital was quiet. I didn’t feel like talking. Colin was driving, his movements not as smooth as usual. The more we drove, the tenser his body became. I didn’t have to study him to see this. It was clear even from the corner of my eye. He genuinely didn’t want to go to the hospital. Or he truly didn’t want to see Manny. I wasn’t clear which.

We stopped in a tree-lined street fifteen minutes later. At the entrance of the hospital I stopped. Colin held the door open for me, a puzzled look drawing his brows together. “Second thoughts?”

“Not at all.” I cleared my throat. “I, um, just want to thank you.”

“For?”

“Sitting with me for eight hours. For bringing me here.”

Some of the tension left his body and he gave me a small smile. A genuine smile. “For you? Anything, anytime, Jenny.”

“My parents used to force me to go to hospitals for tests. Every month there would be more tests to see if they could fix me.” I smiled without humour. “As if I was broken. They wanted to fix me.”

“And that is why you hate hospitals?”

I nodded.

“I, for one, am glad that they never managed to fix you.” Colin waited until I looked at him to see his smile before he spoke again. “I like you just the way you are. Now move your butt. Let’s go see how the arsehole is doing.”

I almost sighed at his pugnacious behaviour when it came to Manny, but my mind was caught on his response to thanking him. I entered the warm interior of the hospital and shuddered at the unique smells that were definitive of each such institution. Colin’s light touch to my elbow barely registered through my winter coat. I didn’t mind the contact and allowed him to lead me. Apparently he knew where to find Manny.

We stopped at an open door to a private room. Immediately my mood lifted when I heard Manny arguing with someone about being released. I stepped into the room, forgetting about Colin. The room was surprisingly spacious, but not as nice as the room Francine had been in. This was much more clinical and reminiscent of the hospitals I had been to as a child. A cheap-looking reproduction of a Monet hung on one wall. There were two plastic chairs for visitors and a television high against the wall. A news programme was on, the sound turned down very low.

Next to the bed was a woman in a white coat trying to take Manny’s blood pressure. She was short, stout and had a fierce expression on her face that I suspected was a permanent feature. Manny had a healthy colour in his face, despite the numerous little cuts and a burn on his left cheek. His left eyebrow was slightly singed and pulled into a severe scowl. He didn’t notice me entering, his face turned away from the door, focussed on the nurse or doctor.

“It’s just a little burn. I’ll be fine at home, Doctor. I don’t need to be here.”

“Mister Millard, it would be much better if you were to stay the night. I strongly recommend that you don’t stay alone tonight. Someone needs to observe you. You did suffer a strong blow to your head.”

“Someone hit you on your head?” I asked, appalled. The doctor and Manny looked at me in surprise.

“Doc, tell the doctor here that I don’t need to be in hospital.” Manny tried to sit up, but the doctor pushed against his shoulder to keep him down. He scowled at her. I wondered at his lack of surprise at seeing me. He didn’t even greet me. I wanted to smile.

“Are you a medical doctor?” The doctor let go of Manny’s shoulder and held out her right hand. “I’m Doctor Marcell.”

I looked at the doctor’s hand and thought of all the sick people in the hospital, all the bacteria and viruses that she had been exposed to. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“She’s Doctor Genevieve Lenard and she doesn’t shake hands,” Manny said, sounding proud.

“I’m not a medical doctor,” I said as I tucked my hands under my arms. “Did someone hit him on his head?”

“No.” Doctor Marcell picked up the sphygmomanometer. “When he fell, he hit his head hard on the floor.”

“I’m fine. I want to leave.” Manny lifted his hands to emphasise his point. Both were encased in white bandages. The doctor caught one arm and fitted the inflatable cuff of the blood pressure machine on his arm.

I stepped closer to the bed, my eyes locked on the white wrappings. “What about your hands? Will they be okay?”

“As long as he follows the medical advice, takes his meds and doesn’t use his hands for the next week, he’ll be fine.” She stood still for a moment, looking at the readings on the machine. “Your blood pressure is a bit high, but I think it might be because of your argumentative mood.”

Colin snorted behind me and caught Manny’s attention. “What are you doing here, Frey?”

“Looking after Jenny.”

Something in his voice gave Manny pause. He looked at me and scowled.

“What’s wrong with you? Have you done something that’s going to piss me off, missy?”

His gruffness, rudeness and general lack of sensitivity caused an interesting reaction in me. My eyes filled with tears and an immense feeling of tenderness overwhelmed me. I blinked and swallowed.

“Oh, bloody hell, Doc. Are you crying?” Manny looked accusingly at Colin. “What’s wrong with her?”

Colin stepped closer, looked at me and surprised everyone except the doctor by putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me under his arm. “You are such an arsehole, Millard. Look at what you’ve done now. Only you could make Jenny cry.”

For a moment I stood stiffly under Colin’s arm. His hand softly rubbed my shoulder and I relaxed slightly against him. The high comfort I drew from this closeness perplexed me. Neither of my relationships with these two men fitted with any previously observed behaviours. Actually, I had to include Francine and Vinnie as well. My relationship with Phillip had always been professional and on a level that I could analyse and understand. With these four people far too many emotions were involved.

“I didn’t make her cry. Did I, missy?”

“Of course you did.” As Colin leaned aggressively towards Manny, he turned me away, placing himself between us. “She hates hospitals, never goes into a hospital, but she rushed here as soon as she could. And this is the way you treat her?”

“Why couldn’t you come earlier?” Manny asked around Colin. “What happened?”

Colin’s whole body stiffened next to me. He must have realised that he had revealed something personal that I might not have wanted Manny to know. He squeezed my shoulder. “Nothing happened. She’s here now and you’re making her cry. Be nice to her.”

“I’m not crying,” I said and wiped angrily at the one tear that made it down my cheek. “I wanted to, but I’m not. I don’t understand that. Why would I want to cry when I’m happy that you are okay and rude to me?”

The doctor uttered a strangled sound and we all looked at her. “Oh, sorry. I think I will leave now.”

“Make sure you get my paperwork sorted so I can leave the death trap.” Using his elbows, Manny pushed himself a bit higher on the pillows. “I’m not spending the night here.”

“Will you take care of him?” The doctor looked at me. I moved in closer under Colin’s arm.

“Oh, we’ll take care of him.” The complete lack of tonal inflection made me turn my head to study Colin. He was planning something that I was sure Manny would find most unpleasant. He smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, Jenny. He’s not staying with us.”

“I’ll give you instructions on how to keep an eye on him during the night.” Doctor Marcell was by the door before any of us could say another word. “I’ll get the paperwork done.”

“Colin?”

Manny spoke before I could ask Colin to explain himself. “I’m not staying in the same apartment as you, Frey. Doc here I can handle, but I’m not looking into your ugly mug first thing in the morning. Just take me to my hotel.”

“No.” There was strength in my voice. “Either you stay in hospital or you’re coming with us.”

“And where exactly does your boyfriend plan to put me?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I pulled myself away from Colin’s comforting warmth and looked up at him. “Where do you plan to put him?”