knew
all about the mob. Scenes irom uic
fore his eyes, and the pains in his stomach grew sharper.
His heart pounded. “I’m hungry, Mom. Are you hun-
gry?”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth, Mark?”
“Because the cop was in the trailer, and it wasn’t a good time to talk. I’m sorry, Mom. I promise I’m sorry. I planned to tell you as soon as we were alone, I promise.”
She rubbed her temples and looked so sad. “You never lie to me, Mark.”
Never say never. “Can we talk about this later, Mom? I’m really hungry. Give me a couple of bucks and I’ll run down to the cafeteria and get some doughnuts. I’d love a doughnut. I’ll get you some coffee.” He was on his feet waiting for the money.
Fortunately, she was not in the mood for a serious talk about truthfulness and such. The Dalmane lingered and her thoughts were slow. Her head pounded. She opened her purse and gave him a five-dollar bill. “Where’s the cafeteria?”
“Basement. Madison Wing. I’ve been there twice.”
“Why am I not surprised? I suppose you’ve been all over this place.”
He took the money and crammed it in the pocket of his jeans. “Yes ma’am. We’re on the quietest floor. The babies are in the basement and it’s a circus down there.”
“Be careful.”
He closed the door behind him. She waited, then took the bottle of Valium from her purse. Greenway had sent it.
MARK ATE FOUR DOUGHNUTS DURING DONAHUE AND
watched his mother try to nap on the bed. He kissed her on the forehead, and told her he needed to roam around a bit. She told him not to leave the hospital.
He used the stairs again because he figured Hardy and the FBI and the rest of the gang might be hanging around somewhere downstairs waiting for him to happen by.
Like most big-city charity hospitals, St. Peter’s had been built over time whenever funds could be squeezed, with little thought of architectural symmetry. It was a sprawling and bewildering configuration of additions and wings, with a maze of hallways and corridors and mezzanines trying desperately to connect everything. Elevators and escalators had been added wherever they would fit. At some point in history, someone had realized the difficulty of moving from one point to another without getting hopelessly lost, and a dazzling array of color-coded signs had been implemented for the orderly flow of traffic. Then more wings were added. The signs became obsolete, but the hospital failed to remove them. Now they only added to the confusion.
Mark darted through now-familiar territory and exited the hospital through a small lobby on Monroe Avenue. He’d studied a map of downtown in the front of the phone book, and he knew Gill Teal’s office was within easy walking distance. It was on the third floor of a building four blocks away. He moved quickly. It was Tuesday, a school day, and he wanted to avoid truant officers. He was the only kid on the street, and he knew he was out of place.
A new strategy was developing. What was wrong, he asked himself as he stared at the sidewalk and avoided eye contact with the pedestrians passing by, with making an anonymous phone call to the cops or FBI and telling them exactly where the body was? The secret would no longer belong only to him. If Romey wasn’t lying, then the body would be found and the killer would go to jail.
There were risks. His phone call to 911 yesterday had been a disaster. Anybody on the other end of the phone would know he was just a kid. The FBI would record him and analyze his voice. The Mafia wasn’t stupid.
Maybe it wasn’ t such a good idea.
He turned on Third Street, and darted into the Sterick Building. It was old and very tall. The lobby was tile and marble. He entered the elevator with a crowd of others, and punched the button for the third floor. Four other buttons were pushed by people wearing nice clothes and carrying briefcases. They chatted quietly, in the normal hushed tones of elevator talk.
His stop was first. He stepped into a small lobby with hallways running left, right, and straight ahead. He went left, and roamed about innocently, trying to appear calm, as if lawyer shopping were a chore he’d done many times. There were plenty of lawyers in the building. Their names were etched on distinguished bronze plates screwed into the doors, and some doors were covered with rather long and intimidating