Madman's Thirst Read Online Free

him, and they became ‘pen pals.’ It was pure luck she was now
on his route. The first time she opened the door, he was stunned by her beauty.
Despite their age differences, they had a lot to talk about. He was going
nights to the Staten Island campus of St. John’s University and, like her, was
interested in journalism. He never got out of line, but he intended on keeping
in touch when she went away to college. You never knew.
    Funny, the side door was wide
open. Keller tentatively opened the screen.
    “Hey, Lizzie, you there?” She
hated that name, but tolerated it from him. No answer. “Sophia, that you
downstairs? Where’s Elizabeth?”
    Nothing, not even combat, had
prepared the young mailman for Sophia Radice’s shrieks. They were even too much
for the raccoon, which clambered off his garbage pail and scampered up the
nearest tree as if he had all his limbs. 
    ***
    There was a backup on the Goethals
Bridge to New Jersey, an infrastructure anachronism with two narrow lanes in
each direction that barely let cars pass each other, let alone thousands of
trucks streaming across the borough.
    “Man. I can’t believe they want to
build a NASCAR track our here,” Gallo said. “Are they fucking nuts? Look at
this traffic. But I guess it means a shitload of money to Lacuna.”
     “What are you talking about?”
    “The stock car track, man. That’s
the reason we just aced the kid. Her old man might have screwed up the deal.
Jesus, you had me read the local rag every day and you didn’t pick that up?”
    “Lacuna told you that?”
    Banaszak was incensed. He was the
senior man. If Lacuna was going to confide in anyone it should have been him.
    “Nah. But I heard some of his boys
talking about how much money they were going to make when the track was finally
built. I told you these wops can’t keep their mouths shut. It’s why most of
them are in jail. It’s just so damn obvious. Like chess. You’ve got to kill the
queen to topple the king. Or, in this case the princess, I guess. Great game.
You should play more.”
    Fucking chess, again, Banaszak
fumed. But he admitted to himself that the NASCAR connection made sense. The
thought unsettled him. Reasons were dangerous. Knowledge was dangerous. All one
needs to know is the target. 
    “Maybe they’re checking the
bridges,” Gallo said nervously as they slowed to a crawl.
    “You mean roadblocks? You’ve been
watching too much cable. It’s like this all the time.”
    “I’m gonna miss my plane.”
    “Don’t worry,” Banaszak said
easily. “It will open up on the other side.”
    It did, and a few minutes later
they passed Exit 14 on the New Jersey Turnpike.
    “Hey, wasn’t that the exit for the
airport?”
    “Shit! The pain is killing me. I
can’t think straight. What time is your flight again?”
    “I got about an hour and 15, man.
But the security lines at Newark are a bitch.”
    “No sweat. I’ll get off at the
next exit and take a back road I know.”
    The next westbound exit was six
miles up the turnpike, and Gallo kept looking at his watch and complained the
entire way. After exiting, Banaszak found a local road. Soon a heavily
industrialized area gave way to a vast stretch of vacant land crisscrossed by
small toxic-looking dull grey streams and yellowish marshes. An occasional
smokestack could be seen in the distance and passenger jets roared overhead
with lowered landing gear.
    “Well, we’re headed in the right
direction,” Gallo groused. “Just follow those planes.”
    “Maybe they’re going to JFK,” Banaszak
said.
    “Don’t even fuck around.”
    Suddenly Banaszak pulled over
along a deserted stretch flanked by high weeds and rushes. An abandoned car was
just barely visible in the bushes. He grabbed his stomach and moaned.
    “I think I’m gonna puke. Can you
drive?”
    “Oh, shit. Sure, anything to get
there. And you better get checked out. This could have happened an hour ago and
we’d be fucked.”
    “I know. I’m