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| "Whatever they say you did is Karma. You hear that? Karma, I tell you!" |
It wasn’t
clear from the plea hearing what it was that Gibbons could do for me. I didn’t
like being helpless and dependent on what others were supposed to be doing on
my behalf. There were a couple mysteries that needed an explanation that he
wouldn’t be able to investigate. I could understand how all the other charges
came about but I was puzzled at how Anna got so banged up when I’d been with
her and I had seen her near naked only a few moments before the cops showed up.
The time that lapsed between leaving the Dinky Dao and her emerging from the
bushes torn up like that is what had me considering the rape charges as being
substantiated. I wondered if it was possible that I raped and beat the crap out
of her in a black out. I’d seen a few grunts… kids in Nam they came from Americana…
like bumfuck Ohio… go bug-shit on revenge raids after surviving weeks on end of
ambushes, trip wires, and punji-pits, and not remembering any of it even though
their rampages spanned a period of hours. Maybe I had done that? I asked the
roaches in my cell but they wouldn’t tell me. Pedro just wagged his antennae at
me as though to say, “You fuckin’ murdered my mother, my brothers, and my
sisters. Whatever they say you did is Karma. You hear that? Karma, I tell you.”
“You might
be right, Pedro, but I heard that insects eat their fuckin’ young so don’t go
pointing any of your fingers at me,” I said in English so he would know he was
in del Norte now.
I tried my
damnedest to remember whether insects had anything like fingers to point with.
I knew they had legs. I had no sun and nothing like a magnifying glass to give
him a taste of solar napalm. I’d have to smash the fucker and then I’d be
accused, and rightly so, of another war crime. In war, you are either a good
soldier or a war criminal if you are high enough in rank. Back in the world,
either way, you are a serial killer. I was thinking of smashing him anyway
because, what the fuck, the punishment for a good clean war-crime is nothing
compared to being a mass-murderer. The nice guard’s keys interrupted my train
of thought with a rattle-klink-jinkle at my door.
“You have a
visitor, Mr. Kraszhinski.”
I was
shackled with the usual restraints and escorted to a small room with enough
space for a table and two chairs. It was disappointing for me to see Gibbons in
deerskin fringe sitting where I’d hoped to see Anna or Gabe. However, I was grateful
that we could talk person to person
instead of through the glass even though the chain on my cuffed hands was
locked to an eyebolt on the table between us. Gibbons was looking worried…
kinda down, he started off by saying. “I have good news for you.”
I tried
mocking him with a sad attempt at levity, “What, aliens have landed?”
“The good news is, Anna didn’t allow a rape
test.”
I waited
for him to at least crack a smile, “Good news? A test would’ve proven my innocence…
I mean on that count anyway. Is there a caveat?”
“Yes, the
reason for the good news is the bad news. She escaped.”
“Escaped?
Escaped from what? I thought she was a witness.” I let out the breath I’d been
holding, fearing he’d say she was dead or something worse.
He wagged
his head towards the guard and demanded, Unshackle him. He’s not going
anywhere.”
The guard
checked on his mic and waited for the answer. Several uncomfortable moments
passed before the radio on his gear belt squawked, “Go ahead, but wait for back
up.”
Back up
consisted of three guards. They had to be standing-by at-ready nearby because
they entered almost immediately.
Guard
number one pushed my head flat on the table top, my noggin missing the eyebolt by
a millimeter, while he unlocked the cuffs on my wrists from it. He left my
ankles shackled.
Gibbons
wasn’t pleased with this concession, “Now, you and your boys will leave the
room. I must insist on our client/attorney privilege.”
There was
very little resistance to this demand. We knew the purpose of the one-way glass
and the place had to be mic-ed up the ying-yang.
Gibbons
relaxed, “I owe you an apology. The reason Anna didn’t take a rape test was...”
“Was
because I flat-out didn’t rape her? Are you coming around to my side now,
Chief?” I don’t make a habit of finishing sentences for people but that someone
believed me was damned nice to hear, “Thank you.”
“I’m your
attorney. When I took your case, I took your side.” He seemed unfazed by my comments
but looked worried about something else, “Anna…I started off wrong… let’s just
say, she checked out of the hospital without permission.”
He was
worried after all. The worst scenario came to mind, “Then, kidnapped?”
“No, she left
on her own.” He assured me. I suppose that’s good news too.”
“Are you
sure?” I asked, still fearing for her. “Did anyone see her leave… she could’ve
been nabbed by Smerdyakov.”
“The police are looking for her. Anna’s a
person of interest in the murder of her nurse.”
“Murder?
Nurse? No fucking shit!”
“The theory
is that Anna strangled the nurse. Used a garrote.”
Stunned, I
repeated what he’d told me, “Strangled a nurse? It makes no sense.”
“Yes, I
know. I ran a background check on her Dr. Coxcomb and the attendant… the
witnesses.”
“And?” The
gears were turning, clogs locking them, and just like that, there was only one
way to go. He had earned my respect by doing some basic footwork so I decided
to call him by his tribal name, “Tell me, White Bear.”
“There’s nothing on the Doctor. Enlisted in the
Airforce and was a medic. But he got his MD, neurology at Grenada, out of
country from a diploma mill…. GI Bill.”
“So? GI
Bill? … good for him. Before Reagan handed Bishop and his Cubans’ their asses?”
“Yes,
1978.”
“I don’t
see anything major in that… except maybe, why would a neurologist be on Anna’s
case?”
“He was
probably bought off or compromised somehow. Most likely blackmailed. No
criminal record. It’s the attendant that raised a half-dozen red-flags. He was
incarcerated in New Jersey for a couple years. Strangled a prostitute… with a
garrote. His defense wasn’t paid for by the state. He had no visible source of
income but had a team of one of the best criminal defense lawyers anyone could
afford. He got two years for strangling a prostitute. You can see what I’m
getting at. With no investigation at all, the police suspect Anna.”
“Is he a
Rusky, or a home boy?”
“Russian
but came here as a kid. Lakewood New Jersey. Big Russian and Jewish community
there.”
“So,
Smerdyakov’s recruiting ex-pats in the USA. Makes sense. His ties to the
Kremlin might be weak with Glasnost and all. I hope you have protection. These
people can get nasty. You need security.”
“I know. My
office at Davis has been broken into. The file on you released by the DA office
is missing… didn’t take anything else.”
“Shit, I’ve
gotta get out of here.”
“Gabe’s
stroke, or heart attack, might have been helped along too. Someone has ties. No
autopsy. Cremated right away. It’s suspicious at the very least. I had the
thicker file on-board the Sea Wolf and it’s gone too.”
White bear tore
off a page of his legal pad, then wrote and passed it to me. It read, ‘I’m in-hiding with the file when I leave.’
I thought,
very good trade-craft for an amateur. Gibbons knew better than write directly
on a pad because the pen or pencil leaves an impression through several pages.
You simply never know who will want to know if there are other files.
“White Bear.
No one told me Gabe died.”
“Sorry for your
loss. So much has been going on. I had no idea…”
I watched him
leave and let the resolve open my spirit. The tiger must leave its cage.
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