The Getaway God (Sandman Slim 6)

“What’s the point? Everything is wide open.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll be in touch,” says Wells.

Aldridge says, “How did they do it?”

“They?”

“Of course. No one person could have done what’s inside. It would take a large surgical team. More than one, probably. A dozen ­people working at once.”

“Thank you, Doctor. You understand that the facility will be on total lockdown once we’re inside. Is that all right with you?”

He looks out at the vans in the pouring rain.

“I’m not going back in there,” he says. Then, “Why aren’t the police handling this? Why federal agents?”

“The police have their hands full keeping rubber ducks from blocking the sewers,” I say. “Besides, eighty bodies inside? I don’t think cops can count that high.”

Wells grabs my arm hard enough to leave a mark.

“Go over there and wait by the door.”

I go. Wells and Aldridge shake hands. The doctor glances at me over his shoulder then heads for his car and drives out of there as fast as he can.

Wells comes over, but won’t look at me because maybe he’ll strangle me if he does.

“I wanted you there with your mouth closed because you’re supposed to have a good sense of these things. Was Aldridge telling the truth?”

“If you mean was he scared shitless, yeah. If you mean did he do the deed inside, I doubt it. You don’t think he’s Saint Nick, do you?”

“At this point, I’m open to any possibility.”

Shit.

“No. That guy stank of PTSD. He couldn’t kill anything bigger than a housefly.”

“All right,” he says.

“Why did you want me to read the guy for lies? Don’t you have your own supercharged lie detectors?”

“Yes. I just wanted to hear what you had to say.”

“If I implicated him.”

“Right.”

“Then I’m on your list of suspects.”

“Not necessarily,” says Wells. “Though you do have a history of decapitation.”

“Meaning I’d be in the clear if I shot more ­people. I’ll have to remember that.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“You’re just open to possibilities.”

“I want this chaos ended,” he says. Without turning around, he waves his arm and the side doors on all three vans slide open. Vigil agents in transparent raincoats pile out and start unpacking gear. Two other agents wheel a crate on a dolly.

I open the front doors and let them in. Wells follows us. Once we’re inside, one of the agents takes a crowbar from the side of the dolly and pries open the crate. Surrounded by a plush interior, like a piece of prized family porcelain, is the Shonin. He puts out a bony hand to me.