by Steve Hadden
Ike handed Jack to them. “Take care of him. He was underwater and without oxygen for at least four minutes.”
Ike stepped onto the boat and they carried Jack into the cabin. The police officer driving asked one of the EMTs to take the helm. Then he pulled his gun and aimed at Ike’s chest.
“On the deck.”
Ike raised his hands. “What’s the problem, Officer? I rescued the boy.”
“On your knees.”
Ike dropped to his knees, but he knew he couldn’t waste time in custody. Falzone’s next steps were unpredictable, and despite his confession to them, Ike would still need hard evidence to clear Jack.
“No. No. He saved me,” Jack said from the cabin.
“I’m Ike Rossi. I—”
“I recognize you. We just got a report from the boy’s grandparents that you beat his uncle and kidnapped him yourself.”
Ike started to get up.
“Stop,” the officer said.
Face down on the wet cold deck, Ike said, “You’re making a mistake.”
Jack was now sitting up on the gurney. “My uncle took me.”
The officer glanced back at Jack, then back to Ike. “We’ll straighten this out at the station. Hands behind your back.”
Ike complied. The officer held his aim on Ike and pulled out his cuffs as he circled behind Ike.
“No. He saved me!” Jack said.
As the officer lifted his head to reply, Ike rolled and swept the officer’s feet from under him. The back of his head hit the deck hard and Ike ripped the gun from his hands. “Sorry about this—but you’re wrong. I need to finish what I started.”
An EMT next to Jack moved toward Ike. Ike swung around, stepped back, and put both the officer and the EMT in his field of fire. “Stop. Nice and easy.” Ike directed the EMT with the gun. “Move back to Jack and stay there.” Ike bent over and cuffed the officer, then aimed at the EMT at the helm. “Take me over there,” he said, pointing back to the old marina. He put his foot in the officer’s back and pinned him to the floor.
Ike was soaked, cold, and exhausted. He needed warmth.
“You. Give me your jacket and your shirt. Now,” he said to the EMT who’d tried to approach him. The EMT removed his coat and shirt and tossed it to Ike as the boat pulled to the riverside edge of the wooden dock at the marina. Ike wanted to disable the radios, but while he’d give himself a little lead time, he’d also cut off any medical help for Jack. With the Shelby, he was sure he’d be gone before any patrol officers responded. He stepped off the boat.
“Ike. No, Ike. Stay with me.”
Ike kept the gun on the crew and shoved the boat from the dock with his foot. “These are good people. They’ll take good care of you.” He nodded to the helmsman. “Drive away slowly and leave the officer on the deck. I’ll be watching.”
The boat pulled into the river and headed downstream to the lock. When it was out of sight, Ike tossed the officer’s gun into the river. Sprinting to the Shelby, he ripped off his wet shirt and shrugged on the dry one and the coat. He jumped into the Shelby and raced down the narrow road to the traffic light at Washington Boulevard. He pulled his phone from his soggy pants and was surprised when the screen lit up. He put it in airplane mode and turned off the Wi-Fi. He tossed the phone onto the seat and jammed the Shelby into first. When the light turned green, he floored it.
CHAPTER 54
Ike crept along the back roads as if on a razor’s edge. He cut through East Liberty and entered Bloomfield the back way. He glanced at the iPhone on the seat. It held the keys to end Jack’s troubles, and within a few minutes he was sure he’d unlock the secrets that would free Jack and dismantle the Falzones.
With each block, his eyes darted left and right, checking the dark side streets for any sign of a patrol car. He was certain the call had gone out, and after assaulting the police officer, he’d be a target of every cop in the department. Detection now meant failure. And failure meant yielding control back to the Falzones.
After a few turns, he arrived at the gate to DeSantis Auto Repair. Vinny and Danny lived above the shop. It was after midnight and he hoped their Saturday night antics had fizzled out. Vinny was a year older than Ike and Danny a year younger. They’d met in grade school but bonded in high school over their mutual love for cars.
Ike rolled down his window, reached for the rusted speaker, pressed the button, and waved to the security camera staring down on him. The gate jerked and then rolled open. He loved those DeSantis brothers—no questions. He pulled through the lot, with cars lined up on either side. Ahead, one of the three white shop doors lifted and Ike saw Vinny standing to the side, barefoot and wearing a Metallica T-shirt. His long black hair was wet and tucked behind his ears, belying the fact that he was forty-two. Ike drifted into the shop and Vinny closed the door behind him
“What’s up, Ikey boy?”
Ike grabbed his phone and stepped out of the car. “I need to hide this for a while,” he said, patting the roof of the Shelby. “And I need to borrow another car.”
“No problem. Take the Charger.” Vinny met Ike at the front of the car. “I know you didn’t take the kid.”
“You know about that?”
“Yeah. You’re all over the news.”
“What’d they say?”
“Said some rich guy said you slugged him and took the kid. Said you were troubled and he wouldn’t be surprised if you ended yourself and the kid.”
“He made that up. That asshole took Jack and I caught up to them on that boat. He tried to kill us, but we got away.”
“Told you, Danny,” Vinny yelled across the shop.
While Vinny was strong, Danny was built like a tow truck: square-shouldered and thick-necked with biceps that looked like they’d been carved from marble. His lips were thick and his teeth were darkened, stripped of their enamel. When he trudged across the shop floor like a gorilla, Ike was thankful they never played against each other in high school. Danny was the fiercest middle linebacker he’d ever seen at Peabody High. His career ended one winter when he broke his leg hanging Christmas lights while traveling hand over hand from the second-story gutter. But he’d quickly become the best muscle-car mechanic in the tristate area.
Danny came up to Ike, punched him in the arm, and grinned. “Yeah, I didn’t think you had the balls to do something like that.”
“Thanks, guys. Hey, can I use your office for a minute? Gotta look something up on the computer.”
“No problem, dude. I’ll log in so they can’t trace you.” Vinny led Ike to the office in the corner of the shop, flipped on the light and logged on. He opened the key holder on the wall and tossed Ike a set of keys. “Just don’t wreck her. Danny worked on her for three months.” He left and closed the door.
Ike pulled out his iPhone, removed his jeans, and set them in front of the space heater in the corner. He dropped into the ripped chair and grabbed the pen and notepad next the greasy desk phone. Opening his mail, he read the last message from Tom Cole he’d received while they were on the boat:
74+8+45–1+19
16+73+22+8+7 15
34+2–1
16+1+33–16+7+7+8+7
Surprised by the number of expressions in this e-mail, he jotted them down at the bottom of the blank page. He noted that for the first time, there was a number with no plus or minus sign. He simply wrote down that number next to the expression. Then he flipped through each e-mail from Tom Cole and wrote down each clue in the order he’d received them with a space between each one:
3–53+8x2+19
4+3–53+8+74
9+13+30–7+8+7+99
53+25–7+47+10–7
74+8+45–1+19
16+73+22+8+7
34+2–1
16+1+33–16+7+7+8+7
Then Ike turned the phone off and pulled up the periodic table.
As soon as he saw it, the simplicity and genius of the key were obvious. For someone named after Isaac Newton, he wondered why he didn’t see it sooner. T
he table was arranged by atomic number. He remembered from high school science that the numbers represented the number of protons in an atom. Hydrogen had only one, helium had two, and so on. He quickly assigned each number in the first expression he’d received from Tom to the corresponding element:
3–53+8x2+19
Li–I+OX2+K
Then he did the implied subtraction and multiplication of the letters:
LOOK
He leaned back and eyed the word. Look at what? Could this be the distraction he’d thought it was initially? Or the start of instructions? He repeated the process for the second clue received:
4+3–53+8+74
Be+Li–I+O+W
The letter math was easy on this one:
BELOW
He understood what Tom Cole was doing and he raced through the rest of the translation, putting each deciphered word below each expression on the page. The message puzzled him.
3–53+8x2+19
Li–I+OX2+K
LOOK
4+3–53+8+74
Be+Li–I+O+W
BELOW
9+13+30–7+8+7+99
F+Al+Zn–N+O+N+Es
FALZONES
53+25–7+47+10–7
I+Mn-N+Ag+Ne–N
IMAGE
74+8+45–1+19
W+O+Rh-H+K
WORK
16+73+22+8+7 15
S+Ta+Ti+O+N
STATION 15
34+2–1
Se+He–H
SEE
16+1+33–16+7+7+8+7
S+H+AS-S+N+N+O+N
SHANNON
Ike knew the seismic image held the key. Based on Bobby Scott’s description of Tom’s breakthroughs, he was sure the clarity and detail of the three-dimensional image of the target zone at over ten thousand feet deep would reveal detail never seen before. But Tom’s clues said to look below the image—not at the potential oil reservoir but below. And whatever that image was, it was enough for Nick Falzone to kill Tom Cole and probably his half brother, Patrick.
The last clues were a dichotomy of logic and insanity. Workstations were the computers geophysicists used to do their seismic interpretation. They’d process the millions of pieces of seismic data generated by the seismic crews. Tom’s process was state-of-the-art. And once the data was processed, a three-dimensional image was generated. The image Ike needed—the one that could possibly free Jack—was on Workstation 15.
The balance of the clues cut like a ripsaw against reality. If Ike interpreted Tom’s meaning properly, Shannon Falzone either had the workstation or would willingly access it. Joseph Falzone’s only daughter, who’d ripped Ike apart with zeal and skill beyond anything he’d seen from her father, was the person Tom Cole was asking him to contact.
Why would she help destroy her family? How would Ike get to her? Every cop in town was looking for him. He had a face and the kind of notoriety that most people remembered. And with Jack’s kidnapping, the security around the Falzone family would be formidable.
Ike let go of the paper and let it flutter to the desk. It was clear, Tom Cole suspected the authorities were involved. Otherwise he could have sent this information directly to the police or the FBI. By encoding it, he’d ensured anyone else intercepting it would have difficulty deciphering the code. He’d anticipated his own death, and the thought of that realization, knowing how close he was to Jack, peeled a layer from Ike’s heart. Ike remembered Lauren’s reference to seeing Ike’s name on an entry in her brother’s planner well before his murder. Tom Cole had trusted Ike with his son’s life before he died based solely on Ike’s reputation.
Ike stepped to the heater and slipped his jeans on. He grabbed the paper off the desk, creased it hard, and shoved it into his back pocket. He snatched the keys to the Charger and remembered Jack’s limp body in his arms just an hour ago—and the smug look in their would-be killer’s eyes. The anger paced inside him, clawing at the bars his mind had wrapped around it. It was time to let it out and to unleash it on the Falzone empire.
CHAPTER 55
Ike cruised down a deserted Wilkins Avenue weighing his approach. Shannon Falzone was his only hope, and getting her to turn on her family would be difficult. But he knew that within the Falzone family, loyalty could be a fragile thing. He’d sensed a chasm between Shannon and Nick and had seen it firsthand with Brenda. And Ike had information that could fracture the strongest bond.
It was one a.m. and the streetlights reached out and illuminated the Charger every fifty yards or so before he plunged back into the darkness between them. He’d cut through Shadyside and into swanky Squirrel Hill North. The restored ’69 candy apple-red Charger was like a beacon in this neighborhood. It screamed for further investigation. So he ditched the car in front of an old apartment complex, two blocks from Shannon’s townhome, and approached on foot.
Her address had been easy enough to find on the DeSantis computer, but Ike knew that after Nick’s lies and thinking the kidnapper was on the loose, her father would have insisted on additional security. The street was dark and the light from the large homes on deep lots was blocked by giant elms and oaks that dwarfed the road. While a few cars were parked on the curb, the street was mostly deserted. Ike examined each car as he approached, looking for the security team. Thick landscaping consumed the cluster of townhomes. Two colonial brick buildings, housing three townhomes each, faced the street. A concrete drive split the buildings and led to six other units in the back. With no cars in front, Ike counted on someone watching the townhome from a car in the driveway. Shannon’s unit was in the back. Ike chose to tangle with the landscaping, enter from behind the unit, and avoid the driveway.
Emerging from the shrubs between the units, he spotted a dark sedan directly in front of 515 Dogwood. The townhome would be alarmed, and Ike knew Shannon would have to let him in voluntarily. If he spooked her, she’d trigger the alarm and the two-man security team would be upon him in seconds. He’d have to gently spark her curiosity, and he’d have to do that from her backyard.
Working his way around the fences, he moved behind Shannon’s unit and clawed his way over the six-foot cedar fence. The yard was dark, but Ike noticed light bleeding through the drapes of a second-story window. Based on their previous meeting, he assumed she was probably up working on the PR mess she’d have to deal with in the morning.
Ike only had one option, and while it was a cliché, it might just work. The entire plan hinged on three things: doubt about her own family, Tom Cole’s apparent trust in her, and Ike’s read of her incessant curiosity. If Ike was wrong on any point, he’d be easily trapped and captured.
He pulled the creased paper from his pocket and opened the page in his left hand. He bent down in the darkness and scooped a handful of pea gravel from the flower bed. Gently, he tossed a pebble against the lighted window. There was no movement. He repeated the toss and the pebble ticked against the glass. In seconds, the drapes stirred and Ike held the paper up in his left hand, with his right hand out to the side.
Ike knew the next seconds would be the difference between a nightmare and Jack’s chance at freedom. The drapes wiggled again and then went limp. Ike held his pose despite wanting to assume a sprinter’s position facing the fence. Then light appeared through the backdoor window, and the mounted porch lamp came on. The door cracked open, but Ike held his pose in the middle of the yard. He saw the gun barrel emerge first, then Shannon with a security system fob in her other hand.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Ike had carefully chosen the next words. “I have a message from Tom.”
Her rigid stance loosened, and Ike saw a glaze cover her eyes.
“He sent them to you?”
Ike held out the page. “He did.” He dropped his arms to his sides and wondered how she knew about the mysterious e-mails. “Can we talk? I’m not armed and you can keep that gun aimed at my head.” He nodded toward the car in front of the townhome. “I can’t get caught yet.”
Ike walked to her and she held her ground until he was a few steps away.
“Slowly now. Come inside.” She kept her aim on Ike and held the gun like she’d fired it before.
They moved down a narrow hallway and into the kitchen. Shannon walked around the island and Ike stopped on the opposite side, facing her. The thick plantation shutters covering the front windows were closed.
Ike laid the paper on the counter. “You knew about these?”
“No. I knew he was setting something up. He told me it was better if I didn’t know the details.”
“You and Tom were closer than I thought.”
Despite holding him at gunpoint, Ike could see the tenderness in her eyes. “We were closer than anyone knew.” She caught herself and tightened her grip on the gun. “Why did you kidnap Jack?”
“I didn’t. Your brother did. Then he and his henchman tried to kill Jack and me. I saved Jack and left him with River Rescue.”
Fury swept across her face like a hurricane making landfall. Her gun hand shook. “I knew he was lying. About everything.”
Ike gently turned sideways in case the gun fired. “Can you drop that thing to your side? I’d hate to take your brother’s bullet.”
Shannon relaxed and lowered the gun.
Ike slid the paper closer to her. “Do you know why he set up these messages?”
He watched her eyes scan the paper. She tilted her head back. “The seismic.” But then, as if discovering a ticking bomb, her expression widened. “Tom. This was about Tom.”
It wasn’t a question. She’d found the truth on her own. Ike would have to make the final link for her.
“Nick’s muscle told us how he killed him before they set the boat on fire.”
The hardness in her voice returned. “Nick, again.”
Ike nodded. “I’m sorry, but there’s more.”
Shannon looked as if she knew what Ike was about to say. He didn’t want to say it, but he had to. “I think he may have killed your brother.”
The gun came back up. “You’re lying.” He waited as the wetness returned to her eyes. He could tell she knew the truth. The words were just too hard.
