The Thirteenth Skull (Alfred Kropp #3)(8)

“I’ll need only about five minutes—”

“First they have to do the evaluation—”

“And then he’ll be fine. Like it never happened—”

“And then you’ll have a hearing before the judge.”

He finally got my attention.

“What judge?”

“To make a determination.”

“A determination about what?”

“Your ... let's see, the best way to put this ... your psychological ... ah ... readiness to stand trial.”

“You mean if I’m too crazy to be found guilty.”

He nodded. He seemed relieved that I got it. “Yes! Something along those lines.”

“And what if the judge decides I’m crazy? I spend the rest of my life in an asylum?”

He didn’t answer for a few minutes. “I told you not to say anything to them, Alfred.”

“And if he decides I’m not crazy, there’s a trial and I go to prison for twenty years.”

“Only if the jury finds you guilty.”

I thought about it. “So what’s the strategy?”

“Strategy?”

“You do have a strategy for getting me out of this, right?”

“Well, the very first thing I’m going to do is find you a good attorney.”

I stared at him. “I thought you were my attorney.”

“Technically, I’m the attorney for your father’s estate. And you wouldn’t want me for an attorney, Alfred.”

“Why? Do you suck?”

“Oh, no, I don’t suck. I’m quite good at what I do, but unfortunately, I don’t do criminal law.”

He patted my knee.

“Don’t pat my knee,” I said.

He stopped patting my knee. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Like crap. My nose is broke. I’ve got fifty-nine million stitches in my arm and four thousand bruises all over my body and they think my butt might be cracked.”

He frowned. “Aren’t all butts?”

“I’m not kidding. I need you to call Abigail Smith for me. I used up my phone call on you.”

“Who is Abigail Smith?”

“The director of OIPEP.” I handed him her card.

“OIPEP,” he murmured, staring at the card.

“You remember.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“Tell her I want a meeting. Today. Even if that means she meets me in the psycho ward.”

“Do you think her agency had something to do with this?”

“Oh, you bet they’re near the top of my list.”

I pushed the ring into his pudgy hand.

“And I want you to keep this.”

“This? Alfred, isn’t this ... ?”

“The Seal of Solomon. Put it somewhere safe and don’t tell anyone where you’ve put it. Nobody, understand?”

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

He nodded. His fingers were shaking as he slipped the ring into his pocket.

“He tried to warn me,” I said.

“Who?”

“Samuel. He said they could be ruthless.”

“Apparently so.”

“Unless it wasn’t them. But if it wasn’t them, who was it?”

“Alfred, if I may offer some advice. Perhaps, given what happened today, you should give Ms. Smith and her associates what they want.”

“They had their chance,” I said. “But I’ll think about it.”

“It might be the price you have to pay.”

“The price for what?”

“For staying alive.”

13:12:08:40

A cruiser took me to St. Mary’s Hospital on Broadway, where I was escorted to the psych floor and put in a room with a door that locked from the outside. There wasn’t even a handle on the inside part of the door.

There was no phone in the room, no TV, and everything was padded—the bed, the small dresser, even the corners of the windowsills. No sharp corners anywhere.

I sat in a chair and played with this little metal ring that hung from the side of the bed. Another ring was at the foot, and two more on the opposite side. I realized the rings were for the straps they used to tie you down.

A nurse’s aide came in with a tray and hung by the door while I ate. I told her I’d rather eat alone—it kind of creeped me out, her standing there—but she said that was against the rules. She avoided making eye contact with me.

“When are they coming?” I asked.

“Who?”

“The experts who decide if I’m nuts or not.”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I just bring the food.”

“Where’s ICU?”

She didn’t say anything for a second. “Second floor.”

She knocked on the door. It was opened by a huge orderly with a smushed-in face, like a bulldog. They left me alone. I crawled into bed. I was very tired. She had brought me a pain pill with the food and, though I really thought I shouldn’t, I took the pill.

I closed my eyes. I tried to sleep and couldn’t. How was I getting out of a room with a door that had no handle, locked from the outside, and a huge orderly with a face like a bulldog posted in the hall?