Break

by Ty Patterson

  He landed easily, the familiar cold filling him as the hitter started to turn with a grunt of surprise.

  ‘Don’t,’ he snarled.

  He jammed his Glock tight against the back of his neck, caught him by the left shoulder and pushed him ahead.

  Small passage. Storage racks on each side. A bathroom. The rear of the inside of the store. The dessert counter to his left. The central stand to his right, fallen to its side, display items strewn on the floor.

  Lin Shun half-sitting, her shirt torn, her lips bleeding, her eyes wild, scrabbling with a hood. Who stopped and cursed when Cutter entered—and there was Nails, who was equally startled at his sudden arrival.

  Lin Shun gasped and cried, ‘CUTTER!’

  He shot her attacker in the face.

  His captive snatched the opportunity to dive out of the way and turned around to bring up his gun.

  Cutter anticipated the move and fired into his body without shifting from his position because Nails was there, ahead of him and the gangbanger’s gun was rising as well and he had to paint himself as a target.

  That was the only way he could save his friends—and he jerked when the first bullet caught his armor and another grazed his neck.

  His Glock returned fire, spent shells rising out of it and spilling onto the floor as each pull got the firing pin to strike the primer, which got the gases to propel bullets out at one thousand two hundred and thirty feet a second. Two struck Nails and brought him down, but Cutter wasn’t done.

  A fast-change and a new magazine. He stood his ground and shot Nails in the face to make sure, and that was when he saw the shadows move outside the store.

  ‘GET BEHIND THE COUNTER,’ he yelled, just as the door crashed and two hitters fired as they rushed in. Their rounds went wide. Cutter’s didn’t.

  He shot them down as another banger showed up who fired from behind the falling bodies and he jerked as another slug got him in the chest.

  He fell to his knees, slapped in another magazine as the sirens seemed to flood the store and the sounds of pounding footsteps and shots reached him. No other gangsters showed in the door.

  ‘POLICE! STAND DOWN,’ a voice yelled.

  Cutter dragged himself back and rested against the cake counter. He blinked and wiped the sweat tiredly from his face. ‘I’m good,’ he whispered when Lin Shun tore around from where she was hiding and came over to him.

  ‘Armor. It saved me again.’ He smiled weakly and raised his eyes when two shadows fell over him.

  Difiore and Quindica.

  The warm reception had arrived.

  89

  ‘We were in a meeting.’ The detective held her phone up.

  It was the nearest she had ever come to an apology.

  Cutter nodded. He drank greedily from the water bottle that she thrust at him and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Cops from the Emergency Service Unit were everywhere. Armed, alert, they checked out the inside of the store, conferred briefly with their officers and the detectives, and declared the store free of threat.

  ‘We got a bunch of hitters.’ Quindica nodded her head at the street. ‘Looks like the plan was to shoot you when you showed up.’

  ‘Lift me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sheller would have asked them to grab and get me to wherever he is. Killing me on the street isn’t what he would have wanted. You got anyone else?’

  ‘Just them.’

  ‘Civilians?’

  ‘None injured. No cops, either. A few broken windows; that’s the only damage. There were two SUVs filled with men. Some of them opened fire on us, but many of them escaped.’

  Darrell got away!

  Nails must have posted him as the sentry.

  Why did he warn me that late? He must have known of the plan. He could have called earlier. I would have called the cops. We could have captured Nails alive and got where Sheller is from him.

  NYPD technicians filled the store and started recording the crime scene. A paramedic came over to him, bathed and dressed his wound. ‘It’ll heal,’ she informed him. He thanked her and leaned back as his body dealt with the remnants of adrenaline.

  ‘Cutter?’

  He opened his eyes as Difiore loomed before him.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Walk us through it.’

  He started with his arrival through the roof.

  ‘No,’ she frowned. ‘Track back. Why didn’t you come down Lafayette? Someone warn you?’

  ‘That’s what I was doing. I spotted the blinds and Closed sign. Took me back to the holdup. That’s when I took to the roof.’

  ‘Your phone,’ she demanded.

  He watched as she scrolled through it and handed it to Quindica for a double check. He had deleted Darrell’s call from the logs when they had been with the ESU commander.

  ‘You’ve got to believe me, Difiore.’

  She snorted in disbelief and motioned for him to continue narrating. Listened silently with no expression on her face and sized him up when he had finished.

  ‘Those plates?’

  ‘Don’t go without them.’ He tapped his armor. ‘Ever since those thugs hit my apartment.’

  She turned away when a cop came to her and spoke softly.

  ‘She always like that?’ he asked Quindica, who was wearing an amused smile.

  ‘Nope. She doesn’t like you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have guessed!’

  ‘None of them are talking,’ the detective reported. ‘Those hitters have clammed up.’

  ‘They must be Sheller’s best men. They know he’ll take care of them.’

  Difiore and Quindica nodded in agreement and stepped away when his friends came to him.

  ‘You took your time,’ Moshe said accusatorially. But his eyes belied his words, and his hand reached out to squeeze Cutter’s shoulder in silent thanks.

  ‘How’re you?’ Cutter asked Lin Shun, who responded by hugging him hard and burying her face in his chest.

  ‘I thought …’ she trembled and trailed off.

  He held her until her shaking eased and she drew off and went to her husband, who raised his shoulders, lost for words.

  ‘Hey.’ Cutter tried to lighten the mood. ‘You would have come to my aid, too.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Moshe said, pausing to think about it, ‘or maybe not.’

  Cutter grinned as he sized his friends up. They’ll come through. They’ll chalk it up to another life experience. Lin Shun is tough. She won’t let this attempt affect her. Moshe … this is nothing for him.

  He looked up when Difiore beckoned at him.

  ‘It’s time?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said.

  He and the cops had one more move to make.

  90

  ‘None of them are talking,’ Cray said nervously as Gunner watched the TV in the Harlem bar.

  Fixer Fixes Thugs!

  Brownsville Gang Revenge Attack Fixed!

  One sensationalized banner followed another as Grogan’s dramatic intervention was covered by every TV channel. Journalists interviewed witnesses, onlookers, police officers, hostage negotiators, anyone they could get hold of, to embellish the story, which was that Cutter Grogan had interrupted the Brownsville Gang yet again and had taken out its leader, Steve Patchey, and two of his senior men. Several other gang members had turned up and there had been a brief firefight with the cops, who had arrested many of them, while the rest had escaped.

  ‘We don’t know why they returned to this store,’ an NYPD spokesperson replied to reporters. ‘Mr. Grogan was in the vicinity and acted.’

  Detective Difiore came on, but she offered very little detail. ‘We’re investigating,’ was her stock answer. ‘Yeah, we’ve arrested some of them.’

  ‘They won’t talk, boss.’ Cray moistened his lips when Gunner looked at him coldly.

  The Lions’ founder didn’t say a word. He turned off the TV and went behind the bar. Poured himself a drink and gulped
it down in one swallow. He slammed the glass on the counter and wiped his lips.

  ‘Nails and Knowles,’ he growled. ‘Two of my best men. I was going to promote them. Split our New York operations between them.’

  ‘HOW WAS GROGAN THERE?’ he roared and grabbed Cray by his shirt. ‘HOW DID HE KNOW?’

  ‘It … must … have … been … that … snitch,’ the hacker stammered as he tried to breathe.

  ‘WHY HAVEN’T YOU FOUND HIM BY NOW?’

  ‘It takes time, boss.’ Cray staggered when Gunner flung him away. ‘I’m running algorithms—’

  ‘I DON’T WANT TO KNOW. COME TO ME WHEN YOU’VE FOUND HIM.’

  * * *

  He had collected himself when he met Mease in the Melrose parking lot.

  ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ he scoffed. ‘I know every one of those men who’ve been arrested. I sent them myself. They won’t talk.’

  ‘If they did?’

  ‘What do they know? That I’m alive? So what? There’s nothing to connect me and the Lions to Rubin.’

  The strategist stroked his chin and nodded finally. ‘What will you do about them?’

  ‘They’re lawyered up already. Their story is they were hanging outside the store. They didn’t know what was happening inside. They’ve got no connection to Nails. They panicked when the cops arrived and fired on them. They’ll do some time for that. Nothing more.’

  ‘What about Grogan?’

  ‘I’ve got plans for him.’

  ‘You saw his interview on TV? He’s turned informant.’

  ‘I saw. He knows nothing. He’ll say I’m alive. That this Brownsville Gang is the Rising Lions. It’s his word. We’ve removed all traces of my gang.’

  ‘HE SAID HE KNOWS ABOUT CRUMP’S KILLING.’

  ‘He’s just talking,’ Gunner replied flatly, unmoved by Mease’s shrill yell. ‘He wants publicity. That’s how he gets business. I told you I would take care of him. Besides,’ he said savagely, ‘it’s not as if you and Rubin aren’t using this. He went running to the TV cameras when this shootout happened. He condemned gang culture. I saw the polls, too. He got an uptick, didn’t he? You’re benefiting from what’s going down.’

  ‘We are benefiting,’ Mease corrected him. ‘We’re in this together.’

  ‘You seem to be forgetting that yourself.’

  Gunner spun on his heel and walked off without a further word.

  When he was alone, he called the deputy chief. ‘Trejo, find out where Grogan is hiding. Where’s that safe house?’

  ‘That’ll be difficult,’ the cop replied nervously. ‘I told you. Difiore does not share—’

  ‘Trejo,’ Gunner snarled. ‘I don’t care what you have to do to get that address. Even if they find out you’re my informant. I want that address. Do whatever it takes.’

  91

  ‘What is this place?’ Difiore exclaimed as Cutter escorted the detective and Quindica inside the townhouse.

  ‘The safe house I was telling you about.’

  ‘This?’ the SAC’s jaw dropped as she took in the high ceiling, the chandelier and upscale fittings. ‘How did you find this?’

  ‘Grogan, did you break into it?’

  He chuckled when the detective looked at him suspiciously. ‘Nope. Everything’s legit. Some friends got it for me. We can use it for as long as needed. Go, check it out.’

  ‘Five floors!’ Quindica shook her head when she and the detective joined him later at the kitchen island. ‘The FBI’s got some neat places, but this beats any of them by a mile.’

  ‘Let’s not even talk about the NYPD safe houses,’ Difiore muttered. ‘Alright,’ she addressed Cutter, ‘what else have you got for us?’

  He had driven the two of them in his SUV after they finished the procedural stuff at OnePP. She had taken in the false number plates but made no comment. None of them had commented on his counter-surveillance maneuvers on the way up.

  ‘Henderson Place.’ He brought up the street on his maps application. ‘This is where we are,’ he said, pointing to the house. ‘Carl Schurz Park at the back and the East River beyond.’

  ‘I saw the views,’ Quindica sighed. ‘I’ll have to sell my kidneys, both of them, my legs, and even then, I won’t be close to the down payment.’

  ‘A back entrance opens to the private yard,’ Cutter grinned. ‘It isn’t overlooked. High metal fence at the back, which leads to the park. Two entrances at the front. One through the main door, which is teak but has reinforced steel inside, and a side entrance—’

  ‘I didn’t see that.’ Difiore craned her head. ‘Oh, there, between this and the neighboring house?’

  ‘Yeah. The two homeowners worked together to build it. Shared access that opens into both gardens through two doors. You wouldn’t see it from the street, camouflaged to look like the front wall. Security system, which has alerts into the 12th Precinct.’

  ‘We won’t want that.’ Difiore took charge and nudged him out of the way.

  Cutter left them to work out the security details. He pulled out his phone and punched Darrell’s number. Was about to make a call when he stopped himself. Can’t call his phone. Sheller will suspect they have a snitch. He tried his mom, got her voicemail and left a message for her, asking her to call him when she was home.

  ‘We have a problem,’ Quindica announced when he joined them. ‘All these houses will have security cameras. They would have recorded our arrival. If Sheller is as smart and well-connected as we think he is—’

  ‘None of those are working. Yep,’ he shrugged at their expressions of disbelief. ‘You can check for yourselves.’

  Both reached for their phones and made calls. Hung up and looked at each other and then at him.

  ‘How did you organize that? This is an upscale neighborhood. Such residents like their security.’

  ‘All the townhouses in Henderson Place are empty. Vacation season.’

  ‘All of them?

  ‘There aren’t that many. This is a cul-de-sac. Six houses on this side of the street, another six on the other. Bankers, CEOs, a few foreign investors own or rent the rest of those properties. They’ll be in their villas in the Hamptons or Europe or wherever the super-rich go for their vacations.’

  ‘You sure of this?’

  ‘I’ll stake my life on it.’

  ‘You’ll be doing just that.’

  Beth and Meg said they’ll be empty. I’ll take their word any day.

  ‘That’s even better.’ Difiore looked at the SAC. ‘We can position our team across the street. Snipers on the roof. Plainclothes members in the park.’

  ‘We need to familiarize ourselves—’

  ‘Stay the night,’ Cutter offered. ‘I’ll cook … and brew some of that coffee.’

  ‘That still won’t make us friends,’ the detective warned him, clearly tempted.

  ‘Such is my life.’

  92

  It was late at night when Cutter got time for himself.

  Quindica had opened up about herself and had also gotten him to talk. Difiore had been her usual self; a little more relaxed, but not by much.

  No one else knew of the safe house. The detective and the SAC would check out the neighborhood and only then would they call in the rest of their team. His stay as an informant had begun, however.

  ‘We’ll protect you tonight,’ Quindica assured him.

  He didn’t doubt her. From their files he knew the two of them were as badass as any operators he had worked with.

  They had taken two of the bedrooms on two floors, while Cutter took the couch in the living room. This was no hardship; it was ten feet long, three feet deep and as comfortable as a bed.

  He turned on his laptop and checked his phone for any activity from the cloning software. There didn’t seem to be …

  He stopped when he spotted the recording.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Are you—’

&n
bsp; ‘Boss, we’re outside the bodega. The hit’s going down.’

  ‘Call me when it’s done. Support’s on its way.’

  Nails, and that second voice was surely Sheller’s. He searched feverishly for previous recordings and compared them to the segment he had gotten from The Elitist.

  No doubt about it. The club recording was very brief, but there was no question that hard, authoritative voice was the Lions’ founder’s.

  Where is he?

  Bronx, the software told him. He cursed loudly when the program didn’t give him any more detail on the address.

  He checked the time. Eleven pm. Will they be awake? Should I call?

  He called.

  ‘Cutter,’ Meghan answered at first ring. No traces of sleep in her voice.

  ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘I’m talking to you, aren’t I?’

  ‘I’ll call later—’

  ‘What is it? We were leaving the office.’

  ‘That software got a hit on Sheller’s phone. However, I don’t have an address.’

  ‘Hold up.’

  The sound of background voices. Beth’s coming across loudly. ‘We should send him a bill. You heard that, Cutter?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replied.

  ‘Okay,’ the elder twin came on presently. ‘I see that recording. Earlier today, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Bronx.’

  ‘That’s all I’ve got. Can you find an address?’

  ‘Nope, that call was so short it bounced off only one tower. That alone isn’t enough to narrow down the location. That SIM’s out of commission now. Sheller probably destroyed it, and the phone as well. Nails’ phone—’

  ‘Is with the Task Force.’

  ‘He won’t call it again. Darrell is your best bet.’

  ‘He won’t get close to Sheller. That’s not how he works.’

  ‘You’ll need some luck, in that case.’

  * * *

  Luck was on Cray’s side.

  His algorithm had flagged several possible suspects, people who had entered Grogan’s office building. Facial rec and social security programs had worked together to give him identities. He sat at his screen and checked each one of the twenty-eight names.