Blindside (Michael Bennett)

by James Patterson

  Henry took a big step to his left, then spun and kicked me with his right foot. It hit me high. Just above the solar plexus. At least a blow like that in my chest didn’t knock the wind out of me. I took the kick and stepped back, then slipped to one knee. This was not the position I wanted to be in.

  Henry let out a laugh. “This feels about right. You kneeling before me. Now all you need to do is ask for mercy.”

  “Does that mean you’ll show me mercy?”

  “What do you think?” He swung his left leg high over his head to bring an ax kick down on my shoulders. It was a lot easier to do something like that when your opponent was on his knee. At the last moment, I rolled to one side and avoided the kick. But I could feel the effects of the fight catching up to me. I tried to clear my head.

  I was still on the ground, and now my limbs were shaky. Henry jumped to one side so he could attack me from behind. This time, instead of blows, he wrapped his arm around my neck. I felt his other arm brace my head. He had me in a solid choke hold. This was the last place a cop wanted to be.

  He leaned in close as he used his arms to slowly cut off my air. He whispered in my ear, “Not what you expected, is it? I don’t know about you, but I don’t like surprises.”

  That’s when I reverted to what we like to call nonconventional street tactics. It really wasn’t that hard, either. As he shifted to get a better position on his choke, his groin ended up next to my shoulder. I wasted no time in making a fist and punching him in the balls as hard as I could.

  I could tell by the way he released me instantly and the sound he made that I had been right on target. I rose to my feet as he staggered back, holding his crotch the entire way.

  He worked hard to shake off the blow. I used the time to catch my breath. He came at me again, only this time much slower. I blocked a right cross, and while he was close to me, I head-butted him in the face.

  I felt his nose shatter. I’d caught him with the top of my forehead, just the way you’re supposed to. He staggered back. His eyes weren’t focused. After three steps, he flopped onto the ground, then lay down, like he needed a nap.

  I resisted the urge to kick him while he was on the ground. But I wasn’t a big enough man to resist standing over him, with my hands on my knees so we were looking at each other, and saying, “I guess all those brains couldn’t cushion a good head butt. You’re under arrest.”

  Terri Hernandez led her dazed prisoner over to me. She held two of his interlocked fingers on his head, an old trick for holding people if you didn’t have handcuffs close by.

  She said, “You okay?”

  All I could do was nod.

  Terri said, “He wasn’t a bad fighter. Clearly he was never a street fighter.”

  I couldn’t even answer verbally. I just nodded.

  Three cars turned from Vernon Boulevard and came in a line down the street, then angled in different directions as they stopped, blocking off the street completely. I knew it was Harry Grissom and the rest of our squad.

  I was happy to sit with my prisoner and let my colleagues handle the rest.

  CHAPTER 103

  I BRUSHED MYSELF off and wiped some blood from my nose. Two junior detectives took custody of Henry. One of them checked his eyes and made sure he was fully conscious and coherent. When the detective nodded, the other detective said, “Do you speak English?”

  When Henry didn’t answer, the detective repeated the question in a much louder voice. Somehow NYPD personnel viewed that as a universal language.

  This time, Henry nodded as he stared at the ground. A few drops of blood leaked from a cut on his lip.

  The detective immediately said, “You have the right to remain silent.”

  I tuned out the rest of the Miranda warning as Harry Grissom joined me and put an arm around my shoulders. As we started to walk away from Henry and the two detectives, I had to say to Harry, “Just a little late, huh, Harry?”

  The lieutenant laughed. “I’ll admit the move to Queens threw us off. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this crazy plan. You and Hernandez could’ve been killed.”

  “We could be killed every day. The plan worked. That’s what’s important.”

  “Thank God your brainiac kid knew about cloned phones. The GPS unit in your pocket worked pretty well. At least now we can let Natalie Lunden out of protective custody and give her back her phone. The mayor should be thrilled.”

  I shook my head. “The mayor was nothing like I expected him to be, but I don’t give a damn if he’s thrilled or not. Turns out, I didn’t do this for him. Natalie is a sweet kid. She’s got a bright future. I’m just glad she didn’t waste it on an asshole like Henry.”

  A few minutes later, as the two detectives were about to transport Henry to booking, I couldn’t resist taking a moment to chat with my Estonian friend.

  I opened the rear door and kneeled down so I could look in on the handcuffed computer genius. He looked beaten, with his hands secured behind him, sitting in the back of a Crown Vic with a plexiglass shield separating the front seat from the rear.

  He surprised me by speaking first. He said, “I underestimated you.”

  I said, “And I overestimated you. Let’s call it even.”

  “What now?”

  “You’ll face a slew of federal charges and then we’ll throw in the attempted murder. Plus all the murders you’ve ordered. So I wouldn’t plan any exotic trips. You’re going to be occupied for a good long time.”

  Henry smiled. “I’m glad you feel satisfied. I hope it lasts.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve made a huge mistake. It’s funny that you think I’ll be in prison for a long time. Last I checked, prisons had computers. I still have friends. I have more money than you can comprehend. I won’t be out of circulation long.”

  “Should I be scared? I don’t feel it right now.”

  “You will. Trust me. No one will keep me locked up for very long.”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “You keep those positive thoughts. Frankly, it’s a nice change from the ‘I’m innocent’ excuse I usually hear.”

  I shut the door and watched the car pull away.

  CHAPTER 104

  A COUPLE OF days later, when I walked into the mayor’s office, I still carried a few cuts on my face and a black eye. That’s what was obvious; I also had a cracked rib and a broken finger. It doesn’t sound like much, but it was enough to remind me of what had happened more than once a minute.

  Of course, as soon as I confirmed that the mayor’s phone and email had been compromised, the NYPD cybercrime unit had gone into overdrive. Every city phone and computer had to be checked and double-checked. It was as if no one had ever heard of cybercrime, and now that some asshole from Estonia had broken the meager security on the mayor’s phone, the government’s role was to overreact. It felt familiar.

  Now, as I sat in an overstuffed leather chair waiting for the mayor to come into his office, the past few weeks seemed to catch up with me all at once. This felt like real closure. With any luck, this would be the last time I ever had to talk to the mayor face-to-face. That was the sincere wish of most NYPD employees.

  I heard the mayor before the inner door to his office opened. He wore his usual tailored suit, which did nothing to hide his belly. He greeted me with a big smile and came right to my chair to shake my hand.

  He said, “Look, it’s my favorite NYPD detective.” After he shook my hand, he held it for extra, awkward seconds. I guess he was trying to show me how much he appreciated everything I’d done. “You did a great job in Estonia. And the way you figured out that my phone had been hacked was brilliant. Thank you so much for bringing Natalie back to us.”

  “How’s she doing? I know she wasn’t very happy about being held in protective custody or whatever we called it.”

  The mayor plopped into the plush leather chair behind his wide oak desk. He looked down and was silent for a few moments. When he looked up a
t me again he said, “I’m sure Natalie told you we have a few issues. She’s not ready to talk to me just yet. I’m trying to be patient. But her mother tells me she’s doing quite well.

  “The reason I asked you to visit today was to show my appreciation. I can tell you that officially you’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing in your shooting. In connection to that, I spoke to the esteemed Reverend Franklin Caldwell. He’s agreed to stop his protests directed at you.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “The reverend and I have a good working relationship. I assured him that backing off your case will help him in the future. His living depends on getting a cut of all the settlements the city makes on cases he’s involved in. It’s not a great system, but it’s worked in the past.”

  I almost asked the mayor why he hadn’t had the reverend stop the protests as soon as the mayor knew my shooting was justified. I figured he’d just have some slick reply like “We have to pick our battles.” And this wasn’t the battle I wanted him to fight.

  Now I had the real question, the one that had floated just below the surface since my last chat with the mayor. I said, “Were you able to talk to anyone about my son Brian? That’s all I really care about.”

  The mayor patted his belly. “So it comes back to children. Seems like that’s always the case. My daughter brought me to you. Your son motivates you.”

  “Did I motivate you enough to make some phone calls?”

  The mayor smiled. “I can see why you’re so effective. So I won’t beat around the bush. I did talk to some Department of Corrections people and the attorney general. The responses were not overly optimistic. They don’t want it to look like favoritism by releasing the son of a prominent police officer.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “I’m still trying. Let’s give it a little time.”

  “May I speak freely, Mr. Mayor?”

  “I didn’t think you had any other way of speaking. But please say anything you want. It won’t leave this room.”

  “I didn’t just try to find your daughter. I did it. I didn’t give up. Now you know what it’s like to have a child returned to you. Please consider that in your efforts to get Brian released. I don’t need you to try to get Brian released. I need you to put as much effort into it as I did in finding your daughter.”

  The mayor stared straight ahead silently, nodding his head slowly. “Well said, Detective. Well said.”

  CHAPTER 105

  MY CELL PHONE rang on the nightstand, waking me from a dream about playing basketball with LeBron James. And I was winning. Startled, I automatically reached out with my left hand and fumbled for the phone before it rang again.

  Mary Catherine barely stirred next to me as I said, “Bennett. This better be good.” I managed a quick peek out the window. It was still pitch-black outside. I glanced at my alarm clock and realized it was only five thirty in the morning.

  The call was important enough to get me moving quickly.

  Mary Catherine called from the bed when she started to stir.

  I said, “I want to take a day trip. You guys have been cooped up in the city too long. I’ll get the kids moving. You get dressed.”

  Her voice was still scratchy with sleep. “A day trip? Where? Michael, what are you talking about?” Even without me answering, she got up and started to get dressed. That’s trust.

  It took a little longer to get the kids in order, but that allowed me to call my grandfather. And even though it was by then after six in the morning, he was still quite annoyed. But he agreed to be ready to go in twenty minutes.

  It wasn’t even seven o’clock by the time we were pulling away from Holy Name in the van.

  The rapid-fire questions started coming from everyone.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Why couldn’t we keep sleeping?”

  “When will we get there?”

  “When can we eat?”

  I shut everyone up with a quick run to McDonald’s, then let nature take its course, and I gave a satisfied smile once everyone fell back to sleep. Everyone except Seamus. And he was smart enough to not ask any questions.

  A little over an hour and a half after we’d eaten, about half the kids woke up.

  Jane, my second oldest daughter, looked out the window of the van and said, “Isn’t this the way to Fishkill?”

  Trent said, “Where the prison is?”

  Fiona, with a higher pitch of excitement in her voice, said, “We’re going to visit Brian, right?”

  I smiled and said, “Do I ever have some bright kids.”

  Now everyone was awake, and excitement rippled through the van.

  There were no more complaints now that they all knew the reason we’d gotten moving so early. But the real surprise for my family was yet to come.

  They knew the drill. Go into the prison. Check in. Wait. Move to the visiting area. Wait. Get to see Brian.

  Today, the drill was thrown off. We were immediately led to a community room with no guards, partitions, or closed-circuit telephones. There were more questions, but everyone filed into the room dutifully.

  That’s why, when a door on the other side of the room opened, everyone just stood in shock.

  Three corrections officers entered the room, followed by Brian. He was wearing jeans and a collared shirt, holding a duffel bag crammed with everything he owned.

  Mary Catherine said, “What’s this?”

  Brian dropped his bag and ran right to me for a big hug. All I could manage to say as the weight of my grown son pushed me back onto a couch was “Brian’s coming home.” I would’ve given more explanation, but I started to cry.

  Before I could be self-conscious about crying in front of corrections officers, everyone in my family started to cry. And they piled on me and Brian.

  My glimpse of the corrections officers told me they liked the happy scene. They all smiled and clapped.

  My grandfather had to sit at the end of the couch just to catch his breath. The combination of excitement and joy had worn out the old man. Seamus asked, “How did this happen? It has to be the hand of God.”

  I couldn’t speak with everyone piled on top of me, but it was better that way. Because Brian was released with the help of God. That’s the only way I could view it. God helped me find Natalie and rescue her. He certainly protected us during our escape. And that led the mayor to work extra hard and push for Brian’s release. The mayor’s pressure, and the work Brian had done on a drug case against the cartel, had led to an early parole.

  Part of it might’ve been the failure of the Department of Corrections to keep Brian safe when he was attacked by cartel members last year. But it didn’t matter. Only one thing mattered at this moment.

  Brian was coming home.

  CHAPTER 106

  ONCE WE GOT Brian home, I took a few extra days off. It might’ve been the most joy-filled week of my life, and that includes the week before every Christmas as a kid. Brian was home and was still himself, although he was not the boy who’d left us. Prison can do crazy things to people. It can twist them and distort their view of reality, or cause a depression that never leaves.

  One of the common threads I’d seen among convicted felons was a victim mentality. It’s counterintuitive but prevalent. Released felons believe they were unfairly targeted by the police while others get away with everything. Brian accepted his mistakes and was ready to move on. He’d taken what the corrections system had offered in classes and training. It had made me proud in an odd kind of way.

  He was already looking for air-conditioning companies he might be able to work for. And he blended back into the family fairly easily. The boys played basketball at Holy Name, where the faculty seemed thrilled to see Brian home. My grandfather and I sat in the bleachers and watched Brian, Trent, Eddie, and Ricky play for hours.

  On the third day after Brian’s release, Seamus turned to me in the bleachers and said, “You did a great job raising these kids. I’m proud to be pa
rt of your family.”

  I waited for the punch line. Then I realized the old man was sincere. I draped my arm around his bony shoulders and said a silent prayer of thanks. What else is there to do when you realize all the blessings God has given you?

  I went back to work a couple of days before I’d intended to. But it was for a good reason. My informant Flash had gotten word to me that he might have found the suspect in the murder of the nurse and her daughter—the elusive Tight.

  Usually a suspect like Tight would have some kind of record. An assault charge is common. Those kinds of charges always get pleaded down, but there would still be a record. But we had nothing on him, not in either police intelligence or arrest files.

  Flash told me he was supposed to meet Tight at Convent Garden on 151st Street up near Washington Heights, one of the places where Flash and I usually met. It was quiet and comfortable and, from a tactical standpoint, suitable for a quick arrest.

  Even though I had worked with Flash for a few years and I knew his real name was Evis Tolder, I didn’t tell anyone else what was going on. Informants are notoriously unreliable, and I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.

  I thought about calling Terri Hernandez, but if things went south, I didn’t want her in the trick bag. She had a bright future ahead of her. I decided if I was able to grab Tight, I’d call her, and she could take the collar.

  The second reason, as important as the first, was my overwhelming need to be the cop who put cuffs on this killer. I thought back to the murder scene of the nurse and her daughter, with those giant holes the .45 slugs had made in their heads. I saw them at night when I started to fall asleep. I also remembered Tight goading the young man who’d robbed me. Without Tight, it would’ve been a simple robbery and we both would’ve walked away.

  As soon as I met Flash, he said, “Did you bring the 2K for the pills he wants to sell?”

  “Nice try. This is not a dope case. We don’t have to do any kind of deal. As soon as I see him, I’m going to grab him. That’s the end of this caper today. Understood?”