Nolan grabbed the doctor by the arm and yanked him into the apartment. Behind him, Karen shut the door, locked it, refastened the night latch. Greer got into full view, holding the.38 in his right hand with that casual but controlled grasp that only a professional knows how to master.
Ainsworth said, “Oh, my God!” and his pudgy face looked very white around the brown mustache.
Nolan slammed him into the kitchen chair and tied him up. Ainsworth still had his black doctor’s bag in hand as he sat roped to the chair. Nolan knocked the bag out of his hand and glass things rattled and maybe broke. Ainsworth repeated what he’d said before, though this time it sounded more a prayer and less an expression of surprise.
Nolan put both his hands on the doctor’s shoulders and said, “How’s it going, Ainsworth?”
“Oh... oh... oh...”
“Try not to shit. This lady has an expensive carpet down and if you shit, I’m going to make you clean it up.”
“No... No... No...”
He wasn’t saying no; he was trying to say Nolan.
“I’m glad you remember me,” Nolan said. “I put on weight since you saw me last. And believe I’d let my beard grow out. How’ve you been, Doc?”
Ainsworth began to make a whimpering sound.
Nolan turned to Greer and Karen. “Ainsworth here is a good old friend of mine. I owe him a lot. Don’t I, Ainsworth?”
“I... I helped you,” he said. “Don’t... don’t forget I helped you.”
“Saved my life is what you did,” Nolan said. He grinned. Nolan didn’t grin often and when he did, it wasn’t pleasant. Knowing that, he reserved the grin for special occasions. “I’ll never forget what all you did for me. And it only cost me, what was it? A paltry seven thousand bucks. Why, hell. You must’ve been running a special that day, Ainsworth.”
“What... what do you want with me?”
Nolan’s grin disappeared. “Don’t fuck around.”
“I’m... I’m not... oh Lord, good Lord, man!”
“You know why I’m here.”
“They... they made me do it.”
“Who made you do what?”
“Your friend... Jon... the boy...” The doctor closed his mouth, his eyes.
“Ainsworth,” Nolan said, his voice flat, nothing in it at all, “I’m the one who advised Jon to go to you. To help him about his uncle. So I share the guilt I’m sure you feel right now. Why don’t you get that guilt off your shoulders? Pretend this is confession and I’m a priest. Pretend you’re face to face with Christ himself and you can’t lie, because the consequences are too goddamn great.”
“I was helping Jon,” Ainsworth said, his face tight with sincerity, “believe me. I
“What did these men look like?”
“One of them was old, the other was young. Father and son, I think they were. Sure of it, from... from their conversation. The father was short and thin, had a dark tan. His hair was white and cut in a butch. He was maybe sixty years old. His eyes, I noticed his eyes especially... they were set close together, and dark. His son had the same eyes, but not so... so frightening. The son was light-complected, skinny, his hair was sort of long, and, brown, I think. His hair wasn’t as long as... as Jon’s, but it was longer than his father’s.”
“Did they use any names?”
“The son’s name was Walter. I think. I only heard the name used once, and I can’t be positive about it. The father’s name was... it was Charlie. At least that was what... what Jon called him.”
Nolan sighed. “You better tell it all.”
“The older man had been shot in the thigh. It wasn’t a bad wound, but he passed out from it and that scared his kid enough to bring him to me. While I was treating the older man, Jon showed up. We had some papers to fill out, regarding Planner’s death, you see, and... well, he just showed up. It was a coincidence that they were here at the same time, you have to believe that! I didn’t betray Jon, you have to believe that! I like the boy.”
Nolan put his hand on Ainsworth’s throat. He didn’t squeeze, or grip the flesh; he just laid his hand alongside the doctor’s throat and said, “What happened to Jon? What did they do to him?”
“They... they took him with them.”
Nolan removed his hand. He took a step back, then another. He began to pace for a moment. He was stunned by what the doctor had told him. He was also somewhat relieved, as it meant Jon was maybe still alive. But it made no sense. Charlie should have shot Jon, should kill him, and then take right off. Get the hell out of the country. Now.
But this was no ordinary man. No sane, reasoning mind.
This was Charlie.
Nolan walked back over to Ainsworth and slapped him hard. “Is that the truth?”
Ainsworth’s eyes teared, and his tongue licked feebly at blood in the corner of his mouth. “Why... why’d you hit me?”
“Is it the truth?”
Ainsworth nodded and kept nodding until Nolan took Ainsworth’s chin in one hand and looked at him, like an archeologist studying a skull.
