“Jennifer Chang.”
She sucked in some breath and steadied herself. “Jen? Really? Is she still alive?”
“Even with a bullet in her back, she pulled through. She’s going to be in the hospital for a good long while. Plus, there were other fatalities at the coffeehouse. And then another witness named Tom Payne. They strangled him and left him in a parking lot near Penn Station.”
Her eyes moved off into space. “Tommy? Dead?” She tried to reconcile what had happened. Finally she was grasping at straws. Natalie said, “Henry didn’t do any of that. He hasn’t been to New York in over a year.”
“Henry ordered it all done. You can’t be this blind. Will you think the same thing after they murder me? See if you can live with that, knowing ahead of time what he intends to do.”
She stared straight ahead. Torn between ignoring what I was saying and recognizing the truth. She looked like the college student I had thought I would rescue: impossibly young and scared.
I was getting to her. The indecision was etched on her face. There was a certain panic starting to run through her as she connected the dots and realized I wasn’t lying. But I didn’t know the extent to which Henry would go. If he was as crazy as everyone claimed, he might change the focus of his criminal organization and go even bigger. He could shut down power grids and really put a lot of people’s lives at risk.
I looked at Natalie and said, “Anything happens from here on out, you’re complicit. I’m not saying you’ll be arrested for it, but you’re a decent girl, raised by decent parents. You know what’s right and wrong.”
“I don’t know how decent they are. My mom is busy with her new boyfriend and my dad has an entire family. No one misses me. No one needs me. Except Henry. He told me I’m one of the only things that keeps him going.”
“Your parents cared enough to spin up the NYPD to look for you. And now it looks like they cared enough that I’m going to be murdered because of it.”
“Don’t say that.”
“The truth is hard to face. That’s why people turn to alcohol and drugs and make all kinds of crazy choices. But it’s never too late to face it. It’s never too late to correct mistakes. Believe me, I know that better than anyone.” Brian flashed in my brain. Suddenly I had an incredible urge to speak to my kids.
I heard someone on the stairs. It didn’t sound like the rushing footsteps of police rescuing me. It was a measured, casual pace.
A shadow fell across the light from the stairs. Then a form filled most of the doorway.
It was the tall Dutch killer, Christoph.
Chapter 76
Before the Dutchman could say anything, I heard another set of footsteps on the stairs. Henry appeared just behind Christoph, stopping on the final step of the staircase, right next to the open door. He had changed clothes. He wore a dark sport coat, like he was going to a party. He stood on the stair above Christoph to make himself look taller. I noticed men who did that kind of shit at the PD all the time.
Henry said, “I hope you have a pleasant trip home, Mr. Bennett. Now that you see Natalie is safe and here of her own free will, maybe her parents will leave us alone. I’m sorry you have to be treated this way. Perhaps if you behave better at other people’s businesses you will be treated better in the future.”
I gave him the best smile I could. I also sat up straight. At least as straight as I could with my hands tied to the eyebolt in the wall. Then I said, “Who are you trying to fool? The only trip I’m going on is a short one. And I’m certain I won’t like the destination.”
It would’ve been easier to play along with him, and his killers might be less vigilant if I kept my mouth shut. But I needed Natalie to see who this guy really was.
Henry gave a nervous glance toward Natalie. “I’m sorry I can’t feed into your conspiracies. Christoph and Ollie will drive you to the airport shortly.”
Natalie looked like she was buying it. She said to me, “See, Mr. Bennett? You have nothing to worry about.” A smile ran across her pretty face. “Have a good flight and tell my dad to leave me alone.” She excused herself and darted past Henry and up the stairs. She’d taxed her view of reality enough for one day.
Henry said, “Excuse me, Detective. We’ve got to get things set up to get back to work quickly. You know how the corporate life can be. Always something. Am I right?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve always been in public service. We’re busy in different ways.”
“Like looking for young women sick of their parents, instead of solving murders.”
The way Henry had said it, I understood why Natalie believed in him. He seemed reasonable and rational. Then again, every good criminal did. No one who was arrested was ever guilty. I said, “You really think I buy into that bullshit?” Now it was just Henry, me, and a known killer. “Let’s be honest. You’re going to kill me, right?”
Henry chuckled as he brushed unseen dirt off his sport coat. Just a way to move and show off his arms. He didn’t look like a computer genius in this setting. He could’ve been any psycho I’d met over my career.
He said, “I don’t kill people.” He started back up the stairs, out of sight. Then he called down, “I order other people to kill. Good luck, Detective Bennett.”
Now it was just me and the Dutchman, Christoph. He looked more imposing up close. Thick arms and no hesitation in his movements. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
He pulled a steel, four-inch, fixed-blade knife from a sheath secured at his waistline. He held it up high, so I could see it and his face at the same time. These younger guys, raised on action movies, loved doing that kind of stuff. Like there was a camera watching their every move.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t unnerved by the knife. That’s the main function of a knife in a criminal’s hands. Stabbing is a last resort. Besides, it was a combat knife. A Gerber. It wouldn’t snap or break when it hit a bone. I shivered at the thought.
Every step he took toward me made my stomach tighten. There were few things as frightening as an edged weapon. Every cop remembers the training video they saw in the academy about defending against edged weapons. The testimonials of cops who’d survived stabbings were horrifying.
Now I realized why the force toughens us up about potential knife attacks. They just want to keep us from panicking at the sight of a blade intended for stabbing. I wasn’t sure how well the training was working right about now.
Christoph stopped directly in front of me with the handle of the knife in his right hand. He didn’t move or say anything.
I stared up at him. I had my feet ready in case I needed a desperate defense.
Christoph said, “Well?”
“Well what?”
Christoph’s accent was more pronounced as he said, “Turn round so I can cut you loose from the metal ring.”
Oh. I had misread that. I let out the breath I was holding. I turned on my seat and felt him work on one of the ropes behind me. In a moment, I was free of the bolt on the wall. My hands were still cuffed behind me. And I was down a few ounces of sweat.
I said, “Can you do me a favor, pal?”
“Perhaps.”
“I’m a little older than you. My shoulders are really bothering me with my hands cuffed behind my back. Can you cuff me in the front?” It was a request I had heard from virtually every person I’d ever arrested. And I always told them, for safety reasons and because I had to follow policy, they would stay cuffed behind their backs.
Christoph didn’t have the same policies. All he said was “These little cord handcuffs cost three euros each.”
“I’ve got maybe ten euros in my pocket. I’ll give it to you.”
“That’s okay. We’re going to keep anything in your wallet or pockets anyway.” He paused for a moment, then added with a smile, “It doesn’t bother me too much that your shoulders hurt.”
A Bronx beat cop couldn’t have said it better.
Chapter 77
This was it. The D
utch killer, Christoph, had me secured. I could barely move my arms, and his little cord handcuffs were strong. He kept a hand on my right arm and stood behind me where I couldn’t get a decent kick at him. We walked out of the room and turned down the hallway aiming for the loading dock at the back of the building, where his partner, Ollie, could presumably shove me back into their car and drive me to God knows where. I needed some kind of plan. Like right now.
My best chance would be to face only one of the killers at a time. I’d been watching them both carefully. The other guy, Ollie, looked like a slob. No one gave him credit. But I could see he was the brains of the operation. Really smart people try not to let others realize just how smart they are. His partner, Christoph, didn’t notice that Ollie allowed him to make decisions while guiding him to it.
There was something unsettling about Ollie. It was probably his appearance and the fact that he did everything to hide who he really was. This was the guy I wanted to escape from.
Christoph might give me that opening. The way he held my arm and stood just behind me and to the side was textbook NYPD. I knew veteran cops who didn’t transport prisoners as safely. I wondered if he’d learned it from being walked by the police himself.
I tried chatting with him, to maybe distract him. I said, “Is this something you really want to do? Think about it. You want this on your conscience?”
He slowed his walk and looked at me. “Those are separate questions. No, I don’t want to do this. But I need to be paid. As far as my conscience goes, this is business. It has nothing to do with my conscience.”
Great. I couldn’t tell if he was a psycho who lived in a little fantasy world or an actual professional hit man. Hit men for the mob in New York mostly lived seemingly normal lives, with wives and kids. That wasn’t this guy.
I said, “Keep telling yourself it’s just business. Maybe it’ll keep you from going crazy as you get older. I’ve seen a lot of killers in my career. Most of them don’t live particularly long. And the ones who do don’t have much left between their ears.”
“Good to know. Thank you for your advice. Now I would ask you to stay quiet. It will go easier on all of us if you do that.”
“Not to contradict you, but I have a feeling it’s going to go the same way for me no matter what I say or do.”
Christoph just shrugged his broad shoulders. He didn’t seem concerned about my feelings. I find that common among killers. Nothing I said could distract him enough to give me a reasonable chance to escape.
As we approached an archway at the end of the hall that led into the loading dock area, he stepped in front of me to lead me through. On the other side of the archway, a fast blur of movement caught my eye. It took me a second to register the movement and the loud thwack sound that accompanied it.
Natalie Lunden had hit Christoph square in the face with a two-by-four. The pine board broke in half.
Christoph staggered, but he remained upright as he slowly glared at Natalie and said, “Not funny.”
I could see Natalie was scared as she looked up into the killer’s eyes. She managed to say, “Henry won’t let you hurt me.”
“Only if I ask him first.” He seized her wrists and started pulling them up like he intended to rip her arms from her body.
Chapter 78
I felt helpless with my hands tied behind my back. I also couldn’t believe the tall Dutchman was still on his feet. He’d taken a hell of a blow.
Christoph held Natalie’s wrists like she was an insect and he was about to dismember her. She knew she’d made a mistake. She started to whimper. Her glasses slipped off, and one of the lenses popped out with a clatter as they hit the concrete floor.
I had to do something. I couldn’t just watch Natalie be murdered.
Christoph was focused. On her. This might be the best chance I got. I wasted no time as I stepped a little to my left and used my right leg to kick the big man in his thigh. I was aiming for the common peroneal nerve. It’s tricky to target. But if you connect just right, it can crumple your opponent.
The nice thing about the nerve that runs from the hip past the knee along the back of the leg is that if you miss, the kick still hurts. And I had missed. I didn’t know by how much, but it hadn’t been a direct hit on the common peroneal. Instead, my heel had ground into his muscles and compressed the nerves against his femur, which had a similar effect.
Instead of crumpling him, I managed to send him reeling. He lost his balance and dropped Natalie, reaching for his injured leg as he let out a yowl like an injured cat.
That’s when I threw my whole body into him. He was already off balance, so even with my hands fastened behind my back, I was able to lower my shoulder and really plow into him like he was a tackling dummy. I assumed he didn’t have the benefit of regularly watching the NFL.
Christoph slammed against the edge of the archway. His face made a sickening sound as it hit the rough concrete. When he staggered back and I could see his face, I realized it had been a good blow. Blood poured out of his nose like some kind of emergency ballast release.
Then his knees gave out and he sat down hard, then rolled onto his side. He was done. At least for now. Blood still poured out of his ruined nose.
Natalie stood staring at me, stunned.
I said, “Natalie. Listen to me. He has a knife in the waistline of his trousers. See it?”
He wasn’t dead. I could feel him breathing. We had maybe a minute at most.
When she didn’t move or acknowledge me, I shouted, “Natalie, snap out of it.” Then my message sank in. She inched closer to Christoph’s inert form, paused, then quickly crouched and with both hands jerked the knife clumsily out of its belt-line sheath. After she backed away from him again, she let out a deep, uneven breath.
I turned around and pulled my arms as far apart as I could so the cord would be taut for her. I felt her sawing on it, and my arms burst free in no time. I wiggled my stiff fingers, trying to get blood back into my hands.
I spun and checked Christoph. He was starting to move. I patted him down roughly. His pistol wasn’t on him. Damn.
I turned and gently took the Gerber from Natalie’s trembling hands. Not my weapon of choice. I tossed it to the floor before I was tempted to take it with us. Then I said to Natalie, “Where’s his partner?”
“He went to get their car. He’s probably already outside this door, waiting.” She tilted her head toward the loading dock’s roll-up door. She had regained some of her composure.
I said, “Now you have to come with me.”
She nodded. “I know. Once I realized they really were going to kill you, I couldn’t just sit back.”
“Me and my whole family are glad you came to your senses. Now we gotta get out of here.”
“But where? Henry knows people all over the city. And I’m not sure if he owns any police. I don’t know who we can trust.”
I said, “I do.”
Chapter 79
Christoph panicked for a moment when he snapped out of the pain-induced blackout. His eyes wouldn’t focus. He wasn’t even certain where he was or what had happened. Then it came back to him in a rush. He didn’t think he’d been unconscious for long, but it was still going to take some time to get going. Then the lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling above the loading dock came into focus.
He blinked a couple of times as he lay on his back, assessing his injuries. His head throbbed like the bass from “Smoke on the Water.” Then he moved his leg and it hurt so badly he forgot about his head.
He rose onto his hands and knees, and thought he might be sick. The splash of blood on the floor made him lift his fingers to his face. Blood was still trickling out of his nose. His beautiful, straight nose. Which was now broken. Badly. It was so flat, it felt like he just had two holes in the middle of his face.
He was startled when a new sound ripped through his brain. He was worried he might be having a seizure. Then he realized it was Ollie knocking on the steel loading d
ock door.
Slowly, he managed to make it to his feet. He felt his face again and thought, That son of a bitch really clobbered me. And Natalie had been part of it. The pounding resumed in his head.
Christoph stumbled over to the wall where the control for the door was at chest level. He had to lean against the wall and focus just to hit the right button. Then he heard the slow pulse of the motor pulling up the door. The rattle of the steel felt like someone running their fingernails over a chalkboard.
As the door rose at its glacial pace, Christoph tried to wipe the blood from his face. Now he noticed his eye was tender. His nose, his eye, his leg. That cop was going to suffer. So was Natalie. He needed his knife. He spotted it on the floor.
The door was finally up and the gray Volkswagen Passat sat puttering beside the loading bay.
Ollie shook his head and said, “What happened to you, brother?” He tried to hide his shock at the sight of his partner.
“It was a combination of Natalie and that cop. She ambushed me and he caught me while I was distracted.” Christoph limped over to the knife and scooped it up with no small amount of dizziness.
Ollie thought for a moment, then said, “If you want to do something to Natalie, it’s probably best we leave without talking to Henry. He still pays the bills.”
Christoph clutched the handle of the Gerber tightly. “I’m going to use my knife on both of them. Slowly.”
“Another reason we should wait to talk to Henry. I say we jump in the car and start looking for them. We’ll call Henry and tell him to do some of his computer magic and see if he can find anything. But we don’t call him until we’re already out of here. Just in case he has one of his fits and tells one of the locals to shoot us.”
Ollie ran up the short flight of steps next to the loading dock and found a rag on a workbench inside, then used it to clean up Christoph. He wiped his partner’s face like a mother cleaning up a three-year-old. Blood sloughed off the rag onto the floor.
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