JUNK
Chapter Nine
Two days later the rain was only just easing off. Both Doyle and Sam, unlike their associates, had spent time in hospital, the former receiving no fewer than four stitches and a good deal of liquid nourishment, antibiotic treatment and TLC from a number of interested nurses. His ribs were bruised but not broken. Sam had gone through a process similar to dialysis to flush the strychnine from his system. His bruises were healing nicely all by themselves, as were Ray's. "You're both a mess," said Cowley, visiting. To Sam he offered as much of an apology as could be expected from a man of his distinction: a bag of grapes, which Sam accepted with great delight, and a security guard, which he shared (as he did the semiprivate room) with Doyle. Doyle was visited, in turn or in pairs, by Jax, Susan (who thought to bring chocolate as well as news: "It's the church," she hissed), Spalding, Murphy and a terribly attentive Ginger Canby. Bodie could not be said to have visited, as he rarely left the room. He dozed in a chair by Doyle's bedside.
To his surprise, Sam had his own visitors, too. Al stayed nearby of course, but the Whatleys were also permitted to come and see for themselves that he had not been tortured to death by the evil British government. Rose almost killed him with kisses.
"Larry! I mean Luther! I mean whoever you are! I'm going to stay here for one year and then go home and go to college to study psychology! Remember what I told you in Aberdeen? Well I meant every word!"
"That's great," admitted Sam. He did not know how to thank Steve and Madeline. Tears settled in his eyes. "You take care of her, now," he said. "And yourselves."
"You too, my boy," said Steve. "You keep in touch, now."
Al said, "I'll have to brief Luther on this, Sam. You've made him a lot of new friends." Sam looked at him approvingly. "I think with a support system like this he just may make it."
Madeline bent to kiss Sam's face. She thumbed away his tears. "I told you you were a good boy," she said. "I'm always right about these things."
Now Doyle and Sam were off to a safe house while those in better shape tracked down a great many villains. At least that's what Cowley thought. He went to M.P. Bowers' estate himself, but not until he had checked a good many facts, reinterviewed unwitting witnesses whose unchanged memories now revealed new evidence, even reexamined the exhumed body of little Marcia Bowers. In the Bowers parlor he was offered tea, which he declined. "Convince me it isn't so," he said to his old friend. "Tell me I'm dead wrong. Tell me quickly, because the police are outside the gate. They've agreed to grant me five minutes alone with you. So tell me now, Roger. Tell me it's all a mistake."
"My wife," muttered the unhappy M.P. "She joined a... what can I call it, George? She calls it a church. I call it a cult. Something like a cult. She started seeing devils everywhere."
"And you, Roger?"
"Only in the mirror, George. Only in the mirror."
Cowley found Spalding on the R.T. and send him straight-away to violate the civil rights of a certain congregation. Spalding, already at the Church of the Avenging Angels, said "Yes, sir" and didn't call in until he had rounded up said congregation, which turned out to be a small one indeed, comprising, however, an astonishing number of parents whose children had been reported missing. Their names were all nicely collected on a list Spalding found in the office of the priest, Father Roy, whose defrocked condition seemed not to matter to his flock. He still talked a good fire and brimstone. He talked so well, down at HQ, that Spalding learned quite a bit about how the children were taken, from where, why, and what was done with them afterwards. The church selected its helpers most carefully from among the most depraved of the recently excarcerated. Some of them worked for drugs as well as money; others, while not scoffing at cash, simply enjoyed their work.
"Everyone can be useful in this world," said Father Roy. "We perform a needed service. Some people shouldn't have children. And some children are bad." Susan, who was sitting in on this, rose to strike the man. Spalding stopped her and she stalked out.
"How can such people exist?" she growled at Murphy in the hallway.
"Evil," said Murphy, with atypical gravity, "exists everywhere. Even in us."
Billy and his friends were still at large, Angela and Mbake had quite disappeared.
Questioned alternately by police and the chief of CI5, Bowers frowned at the mention of Finnegan. "No, I've never met the man, nor even heard the name except from your people. What has he to do with this?"
"I can't help you, Roger, if you lie to me."
"I don't want to be helped, George. Just leave me be. I'll take my punishment. It can be no worse than I have already had."
Bodie led a team into the garage he'd never had a chance to examine. They found ropes that had been cut, a small amount of blood on the floor, an empty food bowl and a full chamber pot. The occupants of the house to which the garage belonged hadn't a clue, or so they said; they were taken in for questioning anyway but let go hours later.
The next day Doyle insisted on accompanying Bodie on a friendly visit to Marcus Finnegan's residence. He was still wearing an outsized bandage on his head, and worse, he had his own tagalong: Sam. Both were bored and frustrated in the safe house, and Ray was miffed that he could no longer see Al. He had quite a clear memory of a short American man, dressed from tie to toe in tomato red, barking orders at Sam. He wanted some assurance, other than Sam's word, that this had not been an hallucination. Sam, on the other hand, was frustrated by Al's frequent appearances which, far from giving him anything to go on with regard to the missing villains or the missing child, seemed designed to taunt Ray for being unable to see him. Al spent almost all his time waving and shouting at the untuned-in operative, making good and sure he, Al, was still invisible, inaudible and, as Sam pointed out, unhelpful.
"Can't you get us anything on any of these people, Al?"
"If I hadn't seen him myself I'd say you were bonkers, but since I have seen him... or at least I think I've seen him... could you please ask him how much time we have? I mean, does the kid show up dead some time?"
"I'm not deaf," said Al, punching buttons, "and that's not such a bad idea, D'Oyley Carte." He'd grudgingly given up his less flattering nicknames for the man. He hadn't enjoyed watching him lie near death on a factory floor, and he did understand that Doyle had saved Sam's life as well as Betsy's. "Now wait, we do have this: I've told Luther what's been going on and now he's very happy to help us. He wants us to get his brother and he's told us a few of the places he knows Billy hangs out." Al named four or five spots, including a certain church, and Sam wrote them down for Doyle, who called Cowley with them. "Okay, here we go. She... hmm. That's very interesting."
"What, Al?"
"Ziggy says that until Bo Didley Squat broke into that woman's apartment, the newspapers for January 3 were all full of this kid's horrible death."
"What's he saying, Sam?"
"Hold on, he's not done saying it yet..."
"Damned right. Anyway, now there's nothing in the papers at all. He just never turns up."
"Is that good, Al?"
"I don't know, Sam. I don't know."
Sam told Ray the gist of what Al had found. Ray didn't know what to make of it either.
Ray told it to Bodie as the three of them sped along in the well-used Capri. "Can I sit up front for once?" asked Sam. "I get a little car sick, and I don't think it's just from being handcuffed." Ray, laughing, climbed in back.
A curious thing happened when the Capri pulled up in front of the Finnegan's house. The trio could see both upstairs and downstairs blinds being moved about, and movement behind the blinds, too. Sam took charge. "You cover the front, Bodie, and Ray, you cover the back. I'm going up alone. He's never met me. You've always asked him about the African lady, Mbuka?"
"Mbake," said Doyle.
"Mbake. You've never asked him about Angela!"
Ray and Bodie looked at one another and shrugged. What had they got to lose? If instead of getting information Sam just startled the man into running, one of them would catch him and question him in a less genteel environment.
"Okay," said Bodie, backing the car in front of the driveway so anyone trying to flee would be unable to use the beautifully repaired Jaguar resting there.
"Be careful," advised Ray, pointing to a blue Safari parked across the street.
Grayson opened the door when Sam rang. "Yes?" he said, frowning.
"Um, hello. I'm here on a private matter with, er, Mister Finnegan?" Sam wiped his muddy shoes on the doormat, hoping to make a good impression.
"Mister Finnegan," said Grayson, gravely, "is not at home."
"Oh that's too bad," said Sam. "I guess I'll just have to wait." He pushed past Grayson, who made a grab for him and indeed did get him around the waist and swing him like a child right back around to face the door. He opened the door and attempted to push Sam out but Sam slipped right between his legs and bounded back into the house, where while being swung he had caught a glimpse of some movement by the stairs. Now he heard quick footsteps upstairs, more than one set he thought, and he raced up those stairs with Grayson's hot breath and grasping claws inches behind him.
"Run, Madame!" cried Grayson, grabbing again for Sam, this time unsuccessfully.
From the front, Bodie was shocked to see Mbake and a small child both running across the rooftops of the block. Doyle, in back, saw the same thing. Both men set off on foot, in pursuit, thus missing the appearance too of Sam on the roof, also chasing the fleeing duo. They all had to turn and run back to the Capri when the blue Safari outraced them to where the woman and child could easily climb down and get in. The foot race became a car chase. Sam, reaching the Capri first, took the wheel. (Later the agents would be bowled over to remember that Luther had no driving license - they had confiscated it themselves after he'd wrecked the Jag.) Doyle sat up front and Bodie, once he realized that he had no choice, took the back seat. Sam was too intent upon rescuing the child to realize how much he enjoyed driving again, even if he did have to concentrate rather hard to stay on the proper side of the road. All in all he did quite well. He never lost sight of the Safari, which eventually led them straight out of London and into Surrey. "We're headed for Bowers' place!" cried Bodie, but he was wrong. Angela - for it was she - pulled the car off the road onto a path through a woods, and when the path became too narrow for a vehicle, she turned the car sideways to block the path. She and Mbake got out and ran, Mbake carrying the child again.
Sam could neither barrel through the Safari nor drive around it, so he pulled up close enough to block it and the three of them got out, circumvented it and ran down the path after the fugitives. Even with a child in her arms Mbake was swift, and Angela too would've been well away had she not tripped over a root and fallen, twisting her ankle. Doyle had her cuffed before she knew he'd even caught her, and brought her back to the Capri, attaching her to the ring in the back seat so she wouldn't be able to drive off, and racing off to catch up with the others.
He found them all in a clearing, but there was no sign of a picnic. Bodie had his Browning pointed at the woman's head from a distance of several feet. Likewise the woman had a little handgun, which she pointed at Bodie. She did seem to mean business. Doyle drew his Walther. He didn't like this one bit.
"You'll not have the child," said Mbake, in a low, steady voice, though she was breathing hard. "You will not."
"You sick bitch," cried Bodie, but Doyle shushed him, noting how the little boy clung to her.
"What's happening, then?" he inquired, mildly.
It was Sam who approached them, hands up almost shoulder-high. "Put the gun down," he said; "I'm unarmed."
"They're not."
Sam glanced back at Doyle and Bodie. "They could be." The agents looked at him with a mixture of startlement and resentment. "Well you don't have to throw them away; you could just put them away." He added "Right?" to Dr. Mbake.
After a moment she said, "Right."
Doyle and Bodie exchanged glances, shrugged and holstered their weapons. They did not raise their hands. After another moment's hesitation, Dr. Mbake lowered hers, then pocketed it.
"What's your name, cowboy?"
"Al!" cried Sam, frightening Dr. Mbake. The child twisted in the doctor's arms, looked Al up and down and gave a short squeal of delight.
"I'm turning myself over," muttered Bodie, "to Doctor Ross. I've gone over the flippin' deep end. This whole case is being solved by ghosts."
"I see it too," Doyle reminded him.
"You can see Al?"
"I'm not an it," protested Al, unheard by either agent, "and I'm not a ghost."
"No, not this time... I mean... I can see... that the kid can see... There's definitely something there!"
"You bet your cottontail," said Al.
Had the agents been able to see him they'd have called for more immediate psychiatric assistance. Al was the Easter Bunny, complete with long, floppy ears, a basket of eggs and the ubiquitous though un-Easterly cigar.
"Bunny!" exclaimed the child, delighted with the apparition. Dr. Mbake was astounded by not only the child's behavior but Sam's; he laughed until he fell to his knees in the mud, and then his laughter turned to coughing, and the coughing to hysterical hiccups. He regained control, sighed deeply, looked up at Al and burst out laughing all over again, continuing to hiccup all the while. He pounded the mud with his fist.
"Take it easy, Sam," said Al, very soberly. "You'll bust a gut."
This did nothing toward calming Sam down. Doyle moved forward, froze when Dr. Mbake reacted in alarm, pointed at Sam to reassure her, then went to the hysterical scientist, knelt by him and patted his back.
Dr. Mbake and Al spoke together; she said "Who are you?" to the three visible men and Al repeated "What's your name?" to the little boy.
"Sammy," said the child, and that did the trick. Sam's laughter and hiccups both ceased and his shoulders now shuddered with the sobs that wracked him. Doyle stopped patting his back, slightly embarrassed. He didn't know what to do. He looked up at the woman.
"We're not here to hurt him," he said. "We're here to stop this."
"How do you know," Bodie began, then stopped when he saw Dr. Mbake's face. She wanted so much to believe them. He could see that. Her hair was a wreck; she wore absolutely no makeup, and her clothes were baggy and soiled; she probably hadn't slept for a while, nor, perhaps, eaten. Bodie had thought her beautiful that day in Surrey, when he'd first seen her outside of Bowers' estate. He thought now that he had been blind then, that she was at this moment the most beautiful woman who could possibly exist; he would've been willing to lie down in the mud and die for her if it would ease the pain, fear and bewilderment, satisfy the hope, answer even one question on her face. "Please," he said, and then didn't know what else to say.
Dr. Mbake let go of Sammy, who ran to Al and reached out his arms to be picked up. When his little arms passed right through the hologram, he squealed in delight and began to experiment by flinging himself at, through and around the amused Observer. The other adults (excluding Sam, who was also rather amused) could only stare. Sam stood up, made as if to wipe some mud off himself, thought better of it and instead wiped his hands as best he could on the least muddied portions of his attire, and went slowly to Dr. Mbake. She seemed to know by now that he posed no threat; she stood watching him approach, never taking her eyes from his. He wiped his hands again, then held one out to her. She took it. "It's over," he whispered. "We got them. No more children will be harmed. Not by them, anyway." She tried to comprehend this. "It's over," he repeated. "You did a good job. You saved many children. I think you're the bravest person in the world. But it's over now."
It wasn't until later (was it Bodie who explained it or Al?) that Sam knew it was a fellow physicist who collapsed in his arms, closed her eyes and stayed very still while he did his best to hold her safe from the past.
On the way back to the cars Bodie used the R.T. to report what had happened and was gratified to learn that in the interim Billy had been apprehended - not far from the Angels of Vengeance Church. It wouldn't be long now before he handed over his pals. "People like that," explained Bodie, with great satisfaction, "have less truck with loyalty than a box of thumbtacks."
Doyle didn't even ask how his partner had come up with that one. He trotted ahead a little so he could release Angela. His apologies were meaningless until Angela saw Luther carrying the child. He didn't look stoned, the child didn't look frightened and Mbake was smiling. Bodie didn't even look angry about having been left to die on Mbake's kitchen floor. Maybe it was really going to be all right.