Free The List by J.A. Konrath Page B

Hospital who was responsible for faking Tom’s birth certificate, might have also been in the Army. He began to search.
    The surname Harper was common. Tom found several Harolds on different sites, eliminating anyone who was too young to have been a doctor thirty years ago. Of those who did match, he clicked on their bios to get a background, looking for either medical training or a previous address in Chicago or New Mexico. After an hour of monotonous effort he hit pay dirt. An Army surgeon, the right age, with a current address in Albuquerque.
    Tom checked his watch. New Mexico was an hour behind, right?
    It was late, but a doctor would be used to being awoken in the middle of the night. He took out his cell phone and dialed the number.
    After five rings there was an answer.
    “Yes?” The voice was male, deep and groggy.
    “Dr. Harold Harper?”
    “Yes?”
    “The same Harold Harper who worked at Rush-Presbyterian in Chicago?”
    “Who is this?”

    “My name is Detective Tom Mankowski, Chicago Police Department. I’m calling—”
    “Wait a moment. Did you say Mankowski?”
    Tom paused. This was the doctor who had forged the birth certificates. Who’s to say he wasn’t in on this entire murder plot?
    “Detective Mankowski? Are you still there? I believe I know why you called. When did you find out?”
    The doctor sounded eager, genuine. Good guy or bad guy?
    Ultimately it didn’t matter. There had been two attempts on Tom’s life in two days. It wasn’t as if talking to someone could make it any worse.
    “I found out today.”
    “How did you trace me... the birth certificates?”
    “Yes.”
    “Wonderful. This is wonderful. I haven’t seen you since your graduation from the Academy.”
    That came out of left field. “You were there?”
    “Of course. Since the funding dried up, I’ve tried to keep tabs on the Lucky Seven—not always successfully, I’m afraid. You were always my favorite. You’re a detective now? Wonderful. So, when are you going to fulfill everyone’s expectations and go into politics?”
    “Dr. Harper...”
    “Harold. Call me Harold.”
    “You’re getting ahead of me here.”
    “Yes. You must have many questions. Do you know about the others?”
    “I’ve met Bert. He’s the one who told me.”
    “Albert? Splendid. Is he still a stock market wizard?”
    “He buys and sells fishing lures.”
    “Hmm. There’s one for the social scientists to ponder.”

    “Harold, you just mentioned the Lucky Seven. I thought there were ten.”
    There was a long pause.
    “You know about— them ?”
    “By them do you mean Jack the Ripper and Arthur Kilpatrick?”
    “Oh dear. They’re still in jail, I hope?
    “I wish. Both of them tried to kill me last night.”
    Dr. Harold clicked his tongue several times. “They know as well?
    Oh dear. This isn’t good. I warned him about this.”
    “Is that really Jack the Ripper?”
    “Unfortunately, yes.”
    “And that other guy? Kilpatrick?”
    “Attila the Hun.”
    Tom let out a breath. He felt a little better. It was a real ego blow to get beaten up by a short guy. But since the short guy was once the barbarian who conquered the world, it was a little easier to take.
    “Harold, there’s a lot to discuss here. Let’s start at the beginning.”
    “Over the phone? Why don’t you come out to the ranch? We could talk all you like. It would be lovely to finally talk to one of you, after all of these years.”
    Tom thought it over. Could be a trap, of course. And so much had happened in the last few days that leaving town now wasn’t the wisest idea. But interrogating someone in person was infinitely preferable to over the phone. With cell phone rates what they were, it might actually be cheaper to fly down there.
    “We might be able to get there tomorrow, if we can find a flight.”
    “Excellent. I can meet you at the airport in Albuquerque. Just tell me the time.”
    “I’ll call you.”

    “I’ve thought about this many times.