The Alienist - Caleb Carr [252]
“Japheth!” Laszlo repeated, sensing that the man was slipping away. “What did you see?”
As his head continued to shake, Beecham’s eyes shifted back to Laszlo’s pleading face. “I—have never known—” he gasped, the tone both apologetic and pleading. “I—have never—known! I—didn’t—they—”
The shaking in his face spread throughout his body for an instant, and then he grabbed Laszlo by the shirt. Face still full of mortal fear, John Beecham spasmed one final time, spat some blood mixed with vomit out one side of his mouth, and grew still. His head rolled away from Kreizler, the eyes finally losing their expression of terror.
“Japheth!” Kreizler said once more; but he knew it was too late. Lucius reached up and closed Beecham’s eyes, at which Kreizler finally lowered the dead man’s head back down to the cold stone beneath it.
No one spoke for a minute or two, and then there was a sound: another whistle from below. I stood up, moved to the outer promenade fence, and looked down to Cyrus and Stevie, who were pointing toward the West Side urgently. I waved to them in acknowledgment and then went to Kreizler.
“Laszlo,” I said carefully, “offhand I’d say Roosevelt’s on his way. You’d better get ready to explain—”
“No.” Though Kreizler did not lift his head, his voice was firm. “I won’t be here.” When he finally sat up straight and looked around, I could see that his eyes were red and moist. He looked from me to Sara, then at Marcus, and finally to Lucius, nodding as he did. “You have all given me your help and your friendship—perhaps more of each than I’ve been entitled to. But I must ask that you continue to do so for just a little while longer.” Standing up, Kreizler spoke to Lucius and Marcus. “Detective Sergeants? I’ll need your assistance in removing Beecham’s body. You say Roosevelt’s coming by way of Fortieth Street, John?”
“I’d say so,” I answered, “based on the way those two are carrying on down there.”
“Very well, then,” Kreizler went on. “When he arrives, Cyrus will direct him up here. The detective sergeants and I will take the body out through the Fifth Avenue gate”—Laszlo walked to the street-side fence and issued a command by waving one hand—“where Stevie will be waiting.” He stepped over to Sara and took her by the shoulders. “I wouldn’t blame you if you refused to be any part of this, Sara.”
She looked for a moment as if she were about to erupt with a spiteful indictment—but then she simply shrugged and put her pistol away in a fold of her dress. “You haven’t been honest with us about this part of it, Doctor,” she said. Her hard look softened. “But if it hadn’t been for you we never would have had the chance in the first place. I’m prepared to call it even.”
Laszlo pulled her close and embraced her. “Thank you for that,” he murmured, and then stepped back. “Now, then—in the control house you will find a rather terrified boy wrapped in a fairly decent cloak of mine. Go to him, would you, and see to it that Roosevelt asks him no questions before we’ve had time to get downtown.”
“Downtown?” I said, as Sara moved toward the control house doorway. “Wait a minute, Kreizler—”
“There’s no time, John,” Laszlo said, moving toward Marcus and speaking to both him and Lucius. “Detective Sergeants? The commissioner is your superior, and I will understand if—”
“You don’t have to ask, Doctor,” Lucius answered before Laszlo could finish. “I think I know what you’ve got in mind. I’ll be curious to see how it turns out.”
“You shall see for yourself,” Kreizler answered. “I intend that you shall assist me.” He turned to the taller Isaacson. “Marcus? If you wish to exempt yourself, I shall more than understand.”
Marcus weighed Kreizler’s words for a moment. “It’s really the only riddle left to solve, isn’t it, Doctor?” he asked.
Kreizler nodded. “Perhaps the most important.”
Marcus took a moment more, then