Page 15 of The Accomplice
Delaney exchanged a curious look with Bill as they started walking toward the hotel. They entered just as the armored technician was coming out.
‘If there’s no device in the bag then what was the ticking sound I heard ?’ asked Bill.
The tech shrugged, said, ‘There’s no metal in the bag. No plastic explosive, no liquid. It’s … well, you had better see for yourself.’
The bag was now sitting on the counter of the hotel reception. It was open at the top. Wearing gloves, Bill lifted the bag from the counter and set it on the floor. Delaney glanced up, saw the forensics team on their way in. One of them had a camera and he was already lining up to take a picture.
‘Get a photo of the top of the bag,’ said Bill, stepping back out of the way of the shot. The camera flashed a couple times, then Bill knelt down, Delaney beside him, as he pulled the zipper all the way around and spread the bag wide open.
She knew why Chester Morris had not answered his phone. Chester wouldn’t need to worry about testifying against Carrie Miller, and he sure as hell wouldn’t need to worry about getting that assault charge dismissed.
Chester’s eyes were missing. His head had been severed at the base of the neck by something very sharp. The clean cut told that tale. His mouth lay open in a scream no one would hear. Something dark filled his mouth and his ocular cavities, but it wasn’t blood.
It was sand.
Delaney had seen a lot of terrible things in her time.
People ripped apart. Tortured. Murdered. Both the terror and the agony of their final moments writ large on what was left of their faces. She stood back, took a deep breath and cracked her neck before she returned to look more closely at the head.
That’s when they heard the ticking.
‘Jesus, there must be some kind of device in his head,’ said Bill, but before he could say more, Delaney interrupted.
‘That’s not a mechanism. Listen,’ she said.
They stood still, holding their breath, and heard it again. A rapid, tapping rhythm. Removing a torch from his belt, Bill shone it inside the bag. The sudden burst of light sent something small and black darting across Chester’s front teeth. It wasn’t a shadow. An insect of some kind.
‘Crickets,’ said Bill, exhaling. He had been holding his breath ever since he’d heard the ticking.
‘Those aren’t crickets,’ said Delaney. ‘Too small. And they don’t make that kind of sound.’
‘We should haul in Carrie Miller,’ said Bill. ‘She must’ve fed information to her husband and now he’s taking out key prosecution witnesses. I’ll call the DA, and we’ll get round the clock protection for every witness in the trial.’
‘Bill, we need more than that. Chester had been on the morning news, for God’s sake. I told you months ago we should’ve brought in—’
‘No way. I won’t have it.’
‘Well, everything we’ve tried so far has failed. If there’s one person who can bring in the Sandman, it’s Gabriel Lake.’
‘You really believe that ?’
She nodded, said, ‘He’s the only person I know who can think like they do.’
‘And there’s a reason he can think like a killer, isn’t there, Paige.’
She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off.
‘I can’t do it,’ said Bill. ‘He’s dangerous and I don’t trust him.’
She shook her head. There was no convincing Bill.
Delaney and Bill left the forensic technicians to examine the bag, and the head. Both the small insect-like creatures in the sand and the sound they made was somehow familiar to Delaney, but right then she couldn’t place it. After two hours they could accomplish no more. The Sandman was taunting them. Taunting Delaney and Bill. She had spoken little to Bill after they had the conversation about Lake. He wouldn’t listen. Men like Bill Seong could only see the political fallout if shit went south. They were thinking about themselves. Their own careers.
Lake came with more baggage than a 747, but with that came results.
He was a manhunter. Pure and simple, and right now they needed him more than ever.
Exhausted, Delaney made for her car in the lot. She noticed the old station wagon beside her vehicle – the rear door was open an inch. There were some blankets in the back seat. Probably made a good rest spot for one of the city’s many homeless. She drove back toward the city with the promise of sleep lying ahead of her. The release of that tension she’d felt waiting for the bomb disposal team, coupled with the blow from losing her witness, had sapped her energy levels close to zero. This was what the Sandman wanted. He was killing at will, and toying with the police and the FBI. Delaney felt fearful for the days to come.
