Free The Monarch by Jack Soren Page A

encased in rubber gloves of the same green latex. A visor was on his balding head, the see-­through face plate raised up.
    â€œSorry,” Wagner said, putting away his reflex to shake hands when he saw what Spangler was wearing. “Haven’t started yet?”
    â€œI started an hour ago. I just finished moving cadavers around and making apologetic phone calls to the NYPD, CIA, and several insurance companies. Do you have any idea how many cases were in front of this one? I don’t like being pressured. You might mention that to Director Matthews the next time you see him.”
    â€œI’ll be sure to—­” Wagner started to say before a voice came from behind him.
    â€œDuly noted, Doctor.”
    Director Matthews was in the doorway. Among the ­people behind him was NYPD chief of police Marvin Powers. The only one in the crowd who looked halfway happy was Evans. Wagner knew the more the shit flew the happier Evans got. He must be delirious with this one .
    The crowd moved into the room, revealing another crowd behind them of lower echelon cops and agents. With the press swarming the lobby, Wagner wondered if they were breaking some New York by-­law ordinance.
    â€œWhoa, whoa,” Spangler said, holding up his hands to stop the audience trying to form a U around the corpse for a good vantage point of the coming dissection. “About half of you need to leave.”
    Standing by the corpse, Wagner noticed he wasn’t included in the challenge. He thought that made sense, since it was only his career riding on this case.
    Matthews sent Evans back out, but refused to reduce the numbers any further. Wagner knew Matthews would love to send Chief Powers out as well, but he’d probably had enough shit storms for one day. Even so, he was pretty sure clear weather was still a long way off.
    Matthews and Powers joined Wagner beside the corpse, Powers staring first at the X-­rays and then at the tube protruding from the corpse’s mouth.
    â€œAnytime you’re ready, Doc,” Matthews said.
    Spangler looked at Wagner and then shrugged. He picked up his pneumatic saw and revved the motor a few times before pulling his visor down over his face.
    â€œYou might want to back up a bit, gentlemen,” Spangler said. He powered the saw and sliced into Bob Cummings’s dead flesh.
    Several minutes later, secrets even Cummings himself hadn’t known were on display for all to see. Matthews looked bored, but Powers looked like he’d just been on a long sea journey. He was an administrator, not a street cop. Wagner thought he belonged in here about as much as the press.
    â€œTo preserve the corpse, I’m not going to fully expose the object,” Spangler said, putting down his saw. “We can continue what the killer couldn’t finish and just slide it out. Carefully.” Spangler slipped his hands under the tube like it was a giant stick of unstable dynamite.
    â€œVery carefully, Doctor,” Matthews said, stepping forward. “It must come out intact.”
    â€œAnd so it shall,” Spangler said without looking up. Matthews obviously didn’t intimidate him at all. Wagner wondered what a world like that was like. “Joseph, could you help me?”
    Wagner didn’t move. He was fine with watching an autopsy, but he had no desire to touch the bastard.
    â€œOh come now. A big strong man like you afraid of little old dead body? I find that hard to believe,” Spangler teased. Wagner would have let him tease on and not have moved, but then he saw Matthews’s stare. Worse, he saw Powers regaining his composure and attempting a grin.
    â€œWhat do you need me to do?” Wagner asked, stepping forward.
    â€œPry open his mouth and feed the last bit of the object down his throat. Make sure it doesn’t catch on anything.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œAs soon as we’re done, we’re taking it over there, to the basin to