The Naked Face (14 page)

It was Christmas Eve and the Pan-Am office was crowded with travellers and would-be travellers on standby, fighting to get space on planes flying all over the world. Judd made his way to the counter through the waiting lines and asked to see the manager. The uniformed girl behind the counter gave him a professionally coded smile and asked him to wait; the manager was on the phone. Judd stood there hearing a babel of phrases. 'I want to leave India on the fifth.' 'Will Paris be cold?' 'I want a car to meet me in Lisbon.' He felt a desperate desire to get on a plane and run away. He suddenly realized how exhausted he was, physically and emotionally. Don Vinton seemed to have an army at his disposal, but Judd was alone. What chance did he have against him? 'Can I help you?' Judd turned. A tall, cadaverous-looking man stood behind the counter. 'I'm Friendly,' he said. He waited for Judd to appreciate the joke. Judd smiled dutifully. 'Charles Friendly. What can I do for you?' 'I'm Dr Stevens. I'm trying to locate a patient of mine. She's booked on a flight leaving for Europe tomorrow.' 'The name?' 'Blake. Anne Blake.' He hesitated. 'Possibly it's under Mr. and Mrs Anthony Blake.' 'What city is she flying to?' 'I-I'm not sure.' 'Are they hooked on one of our morning or afternoon flights?' 'I'm not even certain if it's with your airline,' Judd said. The friendliness dropped out of Mr Friendly's eyes. 'Then I'm afraid I can't help you.' Judd felt a sudden feeling of panic. 'It's really urgent. I must find her before she goes.' 'Doctor, Pan-American has one or more flights leaving every day for Amsterdam, Barcelona, Berlin, Brussels, Copenhagen, Dublin, Dusseldorf, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Lisbon, London, Munich, Paris, Rome, Shannon, Stuttgart, and Vienna. So have most of the other international airlines. You'll have to contact each one individually. And I doubt if they can help you unless you can give them the destination and time of departure.' The expression on Mr Friendly's face was one of impatience. 'If you'll excuse me ...' He turned to walk away. 'Wait!' said Judd How could he explain that this might be his last chance to stay alive? His last link to finding out who was attempting to kill him. Friendly was regarding him with barely concealed annoyance. 'Yes?' Judd forced a smile on his face, hating himself for it, 'Don't you have some kind of central computing system/ he asked, 'where you can get passengers' names by ... ?' 'Only if you know the flight number,' Mr Friendly said. He turned and was gone. Judd stood there at the counter, feeling sick. Check and checkmate. He was defeated. There was nowhere else to move. A group of Italian priests bustled in, dressed in long, flapping black robes and wide black hats, looking like something out of the Middle Ages. They were weighed down with cheap cardboard suitcases, boxes and gift baskets of fruit. They were speaking loudly in Italian and obviously teasing the youngest member of their group, a boy who looked no more than eighteen or nineteen. They were probably returning home to Rome after a vacation, thought Judd, as he listened to their babbling. Rome... where Anne would be.. Anne again. The priests were moving towards the counter. 'E molto bene di ritornare a casa' 'Si. d'accordo.' 'Signore, per piacere, guardatemi' 'Tutto va bene?' 'Si, ma�' 'Dio mio, dove sono i mid biglietti?' 'Cretino, hai perduto i biglietti.' 'Ah, eccoli.' The priests handed their airline tickets to the youngest priest, who moved bashfully towards the girl at the counter. Judd looked towards the exit. A large man in a grey overcoat was lounging in the doorway. The young priest was talking to the girl behind the counter. 'Dieci. Dieci.' The girl stared at him blankly. The priest summoned up his knowledge of English and said very carefully, 'Ten. Billetta. Teeket' He pushed the tickets towards her. The girl smiled happily and began to process the tickets. The priests burst into delighted cries of approval at their companion's linguistic abilities and clapped him on the back. There was no point in staying here any longer. Sooner or later he would have to face whatever was out there. Judd slowly turned and started to move past the group of priests. 'Guarda te che ha fatto il Don Vinton.' Judd stopped, the blood suddenly rushing to his face. He turned to the tubby little priest who had spoken and took his arm. 'Excuse me,' he said. His voice was hoarse and unsteady. 'Did you say “Don Vinton”?' The priest looked up at him blankly, then patted him on the arm and started to move away. Judd tightened his grip. 'Wait!' he said. The priest was looking at him nervously. Judd forced himself to speak calmly. 'Don Vinton. Which one is he? Show him to me,' All the priests were now staring at Judd. The little priest looked at his companions. 'E un americano matto.' A babble of excited Italian rose from the group. Out of the corner of his eye, Judd saw Friendly watching him from behind the counter. Friendly opened the counter gate and started to move towards him. Judd fought to control a rising panic He let go of the priest's arm, leaned close to him, and said slowly and distinctly, Don Vinton'. The little priest looked into Judd's face for a moment and then his own face splintered into merriment. 'Don Vinton?' The manager was approaching rapidly, his manner hostile. Judd nodded to the priest encouragingly. The little priest pointed to the boy. “Don Vinton - big man”.' And suddenly the puzzle fell into place.

Chapter Twenty

'Slow down, slow down,' Angeli said hoarsely. 'I can't understand a word you're saying.' 'Sorry,' Judd said. He took a deep breath. 'I've got the answer!' He was so relieved to hear Angeli's voice over the phone that he was almost babbling. 'I know who's trying to kill me. I know who Don Vinton is.' There was a sceptical note in Angeli's voice. 'We couldn't find any Don Vinton.' “Do you know why? Because it isn't a him - it's a who.' 'Will you speak more slowly?' Judd's voice was trembling with excitement. 'Don Vinton isn't a name. It's an Italian expression. It means ”the big man“. That's what Moody was trying to tell me. That 'The Big Man' was after me.' 'You lost me. Doctor.' 'It doesn't mean anything in English,' said Judd, ”but when you say it in Italian - doesn't it suggest anything to you? An organization of killers run by The Big Man?' There was a long silence over the phone. 'La Cosa Nostra?' 'Who else could assemble a group of killers and weapons like that? Acid, bombs - guns! Remember I told you the man we're looking for would be a Southern European? He's Italian.' 'It doesn't make sense. Why nould La Cosa Nostra want to kill you?' 'I have absolutely no idea. But I'm right. I know I'm right. And it fits in with something Moody said. He said there was a group of men out to kill me.' 'It's the craziest theory I've ever heard,' Angeli said. There was a pause, then he added, 'But I suppose it could be possible.' Judd was flooded with sudden relief. If Angeli had not been willing to listen to him, he would have had no one to turn to. 'Have you discussed this with anyone?' 'No,' Judd said. 'Don't!' Angeli's voice was urgent. 'If you're right, your life depends on it. Don't go near your office or apartment.' 'I won't,' Judd promised. He suddenly remembered. 'Did you know McGreavy has a warrant out for my arrest?' 'Yes.' Angeli hesitated. 'If McGreavy picks you up, you'll never get to the station alive.' My God. So he had been right about McGreavy. But he could not believe that McGreavy was the brain behind this. There was someone directing him... Don Vinton. The Big Man. 'Can you hear me?' Judd's mouth was suddenly dry. 'Yes.' A man in a grey overcoat stood outside the phone booth looking in at Judd. Was it the same man he had seen before? 'Angeli...' “Yes?” 'I don't know who the others are. I don't know what they look like. How do I stay alive until they're caught?' The man outside the booth was staring at him. Angeli's voice came over the line. 'We're going straight to the FBI. I have a friend who has connections. He'll see that you're protected until you're safe. OK?' There was a note of assurance in Angeli's voice. 'OK,' Judd said gratefully. His knees felt like jelly. 'Where are you?* 'In a phone booth in the lower lobby of the Pan-Am Building.' 'Don't move. Keep plenty of people around you. I'm on ray way.' There was a click at the other end of the line as Angeli hung up.

He put the phone back on the squad-room desk, a sick feeling deep inside him. Over the years he had become accustomed to dealing with murderers, rapists, perverts of every description, and somehow, in time, a protective shell had formed, allowing him to go on believing in the basic dignity and humanity of man. But a rogue cop was something different. A rogue cop was a corruption that touched everyone on the force, that violated everything that decent cops fought and died for. The squad room was filled with the passage of feet and the murmur of voices, but he heard none of it. Two uniformed patrolmen passed through the room with a giant drunk in handcuffs. One of the officers had a black eye and the other held a handkerchief to a bloody nose. The sleeve of his uniform had been ripped half off. The patrolman would have to pay for that himself. These men were ready to risk their lives every day and night of the year. But that wasn't what made headlines. A crooked cop made headlines. One crooked cop tainted them all. His own partner. Wearily he got up and walked down the ancient corridor to the captain's office. He knocked once and went in. Behind a battered desk pocked with the lighted cigar butts of countless years sat Captain Bertelli. Two FBI men were in the room, dressed in business suits. Captain Bertelli looked up as the door opened. 'Well?' The detective nodded. 'It checks out. The property custodian said he came in and borrowed Carol Roberts's key from the evidence locker Wednesday afternoon and returned it late Wednesday night. That's why the paraffin test was negative - he got into Dr. Stevens's office by using an original key. The custodian never questioned it because he knew he was assigned to the case.' 'Do you know where he is now?' asked the younger of the FBI men. “No. We had a tail on him, but he lost him. He could be anywhere.' 'He'll be hunting for Dr. Stevens,' said the second FBI agent. Captain Bertelli turned to the FBI men. ”What are the chances of Dr. Stevens staying alive?' The man shook his head. 'If they find him before we do - none.' Captain Bertelli nodded. "We've got to find him first.' His voice grew savage. 'I want Angeli brought back, too. I don't care how you get him.' He turned to the detective. 'Just get him, McGreavy.'

The police radio began to crackle out a staccato message: 'Code Ten ... Code Ten ... All cars... pick up five ...' Angeli switched the radio off. 'Anyone know I picked you up?' he asked. 'No one,' Judd assured him. 'You haven't discussed La Cosa Nostra with anybody?' 'Only you.' Angeli nodded, satisfied. They had crossed the George Washington Bridge and were headed for New Jersey. But everything had changed. Before, he had been filled with apprehension. Now, with Angeli at his side, he no longer felt like the hunted. He was the hunter. And the thought filled him with deep satisfaction. At Angeli's suggestion, Judd had left his rented car in Manhattan and he was riding in Angeli's unmarked police car. Angeli had headed north on the Palisades Interstate Parkway and exited at Orangeburg. They were approaching Old Tappan. 'It was smart of you to spot what was going on, Doctor,' Angeli said. Judd shook his head. 'I should have figured it out as soon as I knew there was more than one man involved. It had to be an organization using professional killers. I think Moody suspected the truth when he saw the bomb in my car. They had access to every kind of weapon.' And Anne. She was part of the operation, setting him up so that they could murder him. And yet - he couldn't hate her. No matter what she had done, he could never hate her. Angeli had turned off the main highway. He deftly tooled the car onto a secondary road that led towards a wooded area. 'Does your friend know we're coming?' Judd asked. 'I phoned him. He's all ready for you.' A side road appeared abrupdy, and Angeli turned the car into it. He drove for a mile, then braked to a stop in front of an electric gate. Judd noticed a small television camera mounted above the gate. There was a click and the gate swung open, then closed solidly behind them. They began driving up a long, curving driveway. Through the trees ahead, Judd caught a glimpse of the sprawling roof of an enormous house. High on top, flashing in the sun, was a bronze rooster. Its tail was missing.

Chapter Twenty-one

In the soundproofed, neon-lit communications centre at Police Headquarters, a dozen shirtsleeved police officers manned the giant switchboard. Six operators sat of each side of the board. In the middle of the board was a pneumatic hute. As the calls came in, the operators wrote a message, put it in the chute, and sent it upstairs to the dispatcher, imediate relay to a sub-station or patrol car. The calls never ceased. They poured in day and night, like a river of tragedy flooding in from the citizens of the huge metropolis. Men and women who were terrified... lonely ... desperate ... drunk ... injured ... homicidal... It was a scene from Hogarth, painted with vivid, anguished words instead of colours. On this Monday afternoon there was a feeling of added tension in the air. Each telephone operator handled his job with full concentration, and yet each was aware of the number of detectives and FBI agents who kept moving in and out of the room, receiving and giving orders, working efficiently and quietly as they spread a vast electronic net for Dr. Judd Stevens and Detective Frank Angeli. The atmosphere was quickened, strangely staccato, as though the action were being staged by some grim, nervous puppeteer. Captain Bertelli was talking to Allen Sullivan, a member of the Mayor's Crime Commission, when McGreavy walked in. McGreavy had met Sullivan before. He was tough and honest. Bertelli broke off his conversation and turned to the detective, his face a question mark. 'Things are moving,' McGreavy said. 'We found an eyewitness, a night watchman who works in the building across the street from Dr. Stevens's office building. On Wednesday night, when someone broke into Dr. Stevens's office, the watchman was just going on duty. He saw two men go into the building. The street door was locked and they opened it with a key. He figured they worked there.' 'Did you get an ID?' 'He identified a picture of Angeli.' 'Wednesday night Angeli was supposed to have been home in bed with the flu.' 'Right.' 'What about the second man?' 'The watchman didn't get a good look at him.' An operator plugged in one of the innumerable red lights blinking across the switchboard and turned to Captain Bertelli. 'For you. Captain. New Jersey Highway Patrol.' Bertefli snatched up an extension phone. 'Captain Bertelli.' He listened a moment 'Are you sure?... Good! Will you get every unit you can in there? Set up roadblocks. I want that area covered lite a blanket. Keep in close touch... Thanks.' He hung up and turned to the two men. 'It looks like we got a break. A rookie patrolman in New Jersey spotted Angeli's car on a secondary road near Orangeburg. The Highway Patrol's combing the area now.' 'Dr. Stevens?' 'He was in the car with Angeli. Alive. Don't worry. They'll find them.' McGreavy pulled out two cigars. He offered one to Sullivan, who refused it, handed one to Bertelli, and put the other one between his teeth. 'We've got one thing going for us. Dr. Stevens leads a charmed life.' He struck a match and lit the two cigars. 'I just talked to a friend of his - Dr. Peter Hadley.� Dr. Hadley told me he went to pick up Stevens in his office a few days ago and found Angeli there with a gun in his hand. Angeli told some cock-and-bull story about expecting a burglar. My guess is that Dr. Hadley's arrival saved Stevens's life.' 'How did you first get on to Angeli?' Sullivan asked. 'It started with a couple of tips that he was shaking down some merchants,' McGreavy said. 'When I went to check them out, the victims wouldn't talk. They were scared, but I couldn't figure out why. I didn't say anything to Angeli. I just started keeping a close watch on him. When the Hanson murder broke, Angeli came and asked if he could work on the case with me. He gave me some bullshit about how much he admired me and how he had always wanted to be my partner. I knew he had to have an angle, so with Captain Bertelh's permission, I played along with him. No wonder he wanted to work on the case - he was in it up to his ass! At that time I wasn't sure whether Dr. Stevens was involved in the murders of Hanson and Carol Roberts, but I decided to use him to set up Angeli. I built up a phoney case against Stevens and told Angeli I was going to nail the doctor for the murders. I figured that if Angeli thought he was off the hook, he'd relax and get careless.' 'Did it work?' “No. Angeli surprised the hell out of me by putting up a fight to keep Stevens out of jail.' Sullivan looked up, puzzled. 'But why?' ”Because he was trying to knock him off and he couldn't get to him if he were locked up.' 'When McGreavy began to put the pressure on,' Captain Bertelli said, 'Angeli came to me hinting that McGreavy was trying to frame Dr. Stevens.' 'We were sure then that we were on the right track,' McGreavy said. 'Stevens hired a private detective named Norman Moody. I checked Moody out and learned that he had tangled with Angeli before when a client of Moody's was picked up by Angeli on a drugs rap. Moody said his client was framed. Knowing what I know now, I'd say Moody was telling the truth.' 'So Moody lucked into the answer from the beginning.' 'It wasn't all luck. Moody was bright. He knew Angeli was probably involved. When he found the bomb in Dr. Stevens's car, he turned it over to the FBI and asked them to check it out.' 'He was afraid if Angeli got hold of it, he'd find a way to get rid of it?' That's my guess. But someone slipped up and a copy of the report was sent to Angeli. He knew then that Moody was on to him. The real break we got was when Moody came up with the name “Don Vinton”.' 'Cosa Nostra for The Big Man“.' 'Yeah. For some reason, someone in La Cosa Nostra was out to get Dr Stevens.' 'How did you tie up Angeli with La Cosa Nostra?' 'I went back to the merchants Angeli had been putting the squeeze on. When I mentioned La Cosa Nostra, they panicked. Angeli was working for one of the Cosa Nostra families, but he got greedy and was doing a little shakedown business of his own on the side.' 'Why would La Cosa Nostra want to kill Dr. Stevens?' Sullivan asked. 'I don't know. We're working on several angles.' He sighed wearily. ”We got two lousy breaks. Angeli slipped the men we had tailing him, and Dr. Stevens ran away from the hospital before I could warn him about Angeli and give him protection.' The switchboard flashed. An operator plugged in the call and listened a moment. 'Captain Bertelli.' Bertelli grabbed the extension phone. 'Captain Bertelli.' He listened, saying nothing, then slowly replaced the receiver and turned to McGreavy. They lost them.'