by Stuart Woods
“So nobody will think it odd when you start looking there.”
“Nope, I’ve put them on notice. Hugh says maybe he’ll retire there, too, and be my neighbor.”
Teddy laughed. “Fat chance.”
“Right. He won’t go until they shoot him.”
“I see you’re having Lockwood’s pay sent to a Cayman bank. Is that going to give them a trail to follow?”
“Nah, it’s being sent from there to a bank in Singapore. They can look for me in Singapore, if they like.”
“How long before you can meet me in St. Barts?”
“I’ll probably get there first,” Teddy said.
“You’re winding it up?”
“Just one more little job to do.”
“Ben Saud?”
“It’s better if I don’t tell you who or when. Or how I’m going to get to St. Barts.”
“Fine by me. Will you let me know when you’re there?”
“I’ll call you on this phone and say that I’m somewhere in the Middle East.”
“Okay.”
“If I’m blown and shouldn’t go to St. Barts, say, ‘I hear Iraq is nice this time of year.’”
“Got it. Teddy, is this really going to work? Are we really going to make it?”
“Yes, it is, and yes, we are. All I need is a few more days, and I’ll be lying on that beach. Shortly after that, I’ll be lying on it with you.”
“I’m looking forward to that. I figure I’ll be able to get out of Langley in a couple of weeks. Tom Bergin is replacing me, and he already knows eighty percent of what he’ll need to know before I go. I’ll put in my papers in the morning, and I’ll put my townhouse on the market, too. There’s always a line of people waiting to buy in my development, so I’ll be out of there pretty quick. I’m going to try to sell it furnished, so all I’ll want to send south is a few books and pictures. I’m going to give my clothes to Goodwill and start over.”
“They were looking for me in my building today,” he said. “I’m out of the apartment for good, now.”
“How did they find the building?”
“I think they canvassed every building in the neighborhood. The doorman and super didn’t tell them anything, but I’m operating on the premise that the apartment is burnt.”
“Where are you now? Oh, sorry, I don’t want to know, do I?”
“No, but I’m safe enough. I’ll call you in a few days, if I can.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Bye-bye.” He hung up, and it surprised him to realize that he really did miss her.
FIFTY-FIVE
DINO BACCHETTI WAS ON THE PHONE when his captain came into his office.
“What the hell is this search on Lex?” he demanded.
“The Feds called and needed our help. They’re trying to nail this Teddy Fay guy.”
“What? I thought the guy blew himself up in an airplane.”
“Just between you and me and the Feds, he didn’t. He’s the guy who’s been knocking off people around the UN the past few weeks.”
The captain shook his head. “Nobody ever tells me anything.” He left Dino’s office.
Dino continued calling his men. They were down to 65th Street on Lex, now.
TEDDY HAD BEEN UP most of the night putting the final touches on his plan. He had made two bombs with the remainder of his plastic explosives, both wired to be ignited by a garage-door opener, which he tucked into the pocket of his overcoat.
His last item was the finishing of his building inspector’s ID. The New York Brotherhood of Construction Inspectors Web site had thoughtfully supplied a facsimile of a real ID. All he had to do was scan it, put on his makeup, photograph himself, then print and laminate it. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for what he had in mind.
Finally, he whipped a loop into a length of elastic shock cord, took off his belt and hooked on the shock cord before running the belt through the loops again. He whipped a larger loop in the other end and let it dangle down his back. It would be hidden by his topcoat. He dismantled his little sniper’s rifle and placed the parts in inside pockets of the topcoat, put on a battered felt hat, picked up his luggage and left the building for the last time, locking the door and tossing the key into the nearest street-corner wastebasket.
HOLLY SAT AT HER DESK, bored. They were waiting to hear that Dino Bacchetti’s people had completed their canvas of Lexington Avenue, and all she had to occupy her was the New York Times.
IT WAS SEVEN THIRTY A.M. as Teddy moved down Lexington, carrying his luggage, a canvas satchel containing the two bombs and wearing a wig, a new nose, muttonchop whiskers and his heavy, black-rimmed glasses. He lugged everything the three blocks to the garage where his RV was stored, stowed his luggage in the rear and began driving downtown. The vehicle now had a valid Florida registration and plates.
HOLLY WALKED INTO Lance’s office just as the phone rang. He picked it up.
“Lance Cabot.”
“It’s Dino; my guys found the workshop. It’s a third-floor studio apartment over a dry cleaners on the west side of Lex between Sixty-third and Sixty-fourth.”
“I’ll get my people over there right away,” Lance said.
“Don’t bother; the man is gone, and my guys got the impression he wasn’t coming back. What made them think that is that they found a very nice drawing of a homemade sniper’s rifle made out of a Walther PPK and some custom-made parts. But they didn’t find the rifle, so he must have taken it with him. They also found some debris left over from making a bomb, and plastic explosive residue was detected on a workbench.”
“Oh, shit,” Lance said.
“If you’ve got any idea who the target is, you’d better get your people on the spot fast,” Dino said.
“Thanks, Dino,” Lance said and hung up. He told Holly and Kerry Smith what the cop had said.
“So who’s the target?” Holly asked.
“We’ve still got the two names we identified earlier.”
“So why don’t I think he’s going after who we think he’s going after?” Holly asked.
Kerry spoke up. “Maybe because he’s always been a step ahead of us?”
“Ben Saud,” Lance said.
“Why do you think so?” Kerry asked.
“Because he’s not on our list, and because Washington wouldn’t let us surveil him.”
“That’s perfect for Teddy,” Holly said. “And I’ll bet you anything he knows we’re not on the guy. I still think he’s got an insider at Langley.”
Lance looked at his watch. “Ben Saud is going to be walking to work from UN Plaza in a few minutes, as he does every day. We don’t have time to make a plan, so I’m just going to flood the area with everybody I can lay my hands on, and it’ll be every man for himself.” He picked up the phone and pressed the code that rang everybody’s cell phone, then gave the orders.
TEDDY DROVE DOWN Second Avenue to the Forties and parked the RV in a garage around the corner from his destination. He went into the rear of the vehicle and removed a pair of aluminum crutches, the kind hinged at the elbow, and his satchel containing the bombs. “I’ll only be about an hour,” he told the attendant, “so please don’t bury the vehicle.” He gave the man a twenty to help him remember.
He walked down the street toward the building under construction at the corner of First Avenue. Outside the structure, he stopped, looked around, and placed the crutches in a corner of a large Dumpster, which contained scrap drywall and lumber; then he went looking for the construction superintendent. He found the man alone in a little shed, checking over some blueprints.
“Morning,” he said, showing his ID card, which was hanging around his neck on a beaded chain. “I’m Morrison; I’m your regular guy’s supervisor, and I want to take a look around, see what kind of job he’s doing.”
“Oh, he’s a good man,” the superintendent said. “He’s really put us through the wringer around here.”
“I’m sure he has, but I sti
ll have to do my job.”
“I’ll come with you,” the man said.
“Not necessary,” Teddy said, holding up a hand. “I’d rather do it alone.”
“Whatever you say; the elevator is right over there.” He nodded toward the construction lift. “Oh, by the way, we’ve got a homeless guy who’s made himself a little hutch in the basement of the building. I know it’s against code, but I haven’t had the heart to throw him out so close to Christmas.”
“I’ll leave it out of my report.” Teddy left the shack and walked over to the elevator. He rode up three stories, looking through the grillwork toward the UN Plaza apartment building. He stopped on the third floor. The angle was perfect.
The floor was empty of workers, since they were hanging steel on the higher floors, so Teddy didn’t have to shoo anybody away. He walked around the third floor looking for options. It wasn’t a very big building—ten or twelve stories—and fairly narrow. Immediately next door, on the side of the building opposite First Avenue, was an empty lot where steel, lumber and other building materials had been stored. Teddy placed his two bombs at the corners of that side of the floor, then armed them. All he had to do now was to press the button on the garage-door opener. He checked his escape route again and found it satisfactory, then took a look at the box that housed the structure alarm.
He glanced at his watch: twenty minutes to go, if ben Saud and his security team were on time. He took the parts of his sniper rifle from his inside coat pockets and assembled it carefully, checking everything as he went. He inserted a full magazine, then leaned against a steel beam and sighted down to the street. The distance was right, about a hundred yards; his only correction would be for his height above the target. Since his position was elevated, the tendency would be to shoot high, and he would have to correct for that on the fly. Fortunately, he had six rounds, plus two more magazines in his pocket.
Ten minutes to go. Teddy set down the rifle and began doing stretching exercises. He hadn’t tried this for a while, and he was going to have to be limber to make it work. He repeatedly stretched the thigh muscles of his left leg, pulling his foot higher and higher to the rear. Finally, satisfied, he picked up the little rifle and began sighting through the scope again.
At one minute before the stroke of nine, the first of the security detail left the UN Plaza building and did a quick survey of the sidewalk to the UN Headquarters building. They signaled the rest of the party, and the group left the apartment building, with ben Saud at their center, dressed in a business suit but wearing an Arab headdress.
As they walked quickly toward UN Headquarters, Teddy checked through the scope and suddenly realized that the man in the Arab headdress was not ben Saud but a decoy. Ben Saud was three paces behind him, between two security guards. Good camouflage, Teddy thought as he sighted on the man’s Adam’s apple.
FIFTY-SIX
HOLLY WAS RIDING DOWN Second Avenue in a car with Lance at the wheel, and traffic was very bad.
“There must be an accident or some construction a few blocks ahead,” she said.
“Well, we’re stuck with Second Avenue, so we’re just going to have to ride it out,” Lance replied. He held up his cell phone and used it in the walkie-talkie mode. “This is Cabot. Has anybody made it to UN Plaza yet?”
“It’s Martin,” a woman’s voice said. “Three of us have got it staked. I hope more are on the way.”
“Everybody is on the way,” Lance said. “Be as unobtrusive as possible; we don’t want him to know we’re there, if we can help it.”
“Roger.”
Lance closed the cell phone. They were inching past 48th Street, now.
“Maybe I should walk,” Holly said.
“No, I checked out the pedestrians; we’re doing better than they are.”
“God, I hate just sitting here.”
“So do I.”
Traffic suddenly sped up, for no apparent reason, and they were moving at thirty miles an hour, keeping up with the changing lights.
“Drop me here,” Holly said.
“Right. I’m going to cross to First Avenue at the next street. I’ll see you there.”
Holly hopped out of the car.
TEDDY SQUEEZED OFF a round, and ben Saud’s head erupted, spraying everyone around him with blood and gore. Security men were throwing themselves across his body, too late. There would not be an opportunity for a second shot, but one was not needed. He dropped his beautiful little rifle onto the floor; he wanted them to find it.
Teddy walked quickly to a red metal box fixed to a beam and broke the glass with his elbow. An alarm began to sound and a mechanical voice began to repeat. “Structural failure. Abandon the structure, abandon the structure.” He could hear people shouting on the higher floors.
Teddy quickly headed for his escape route. He had spotted this on his earlier visit to the building: it was an aluminum tube about three feet in diameter that was fixed to the side of the building, so that construction debris could be tossed into it. Teddy looked up the tube to be sure nothing was coming, then he jumped into it and began to slide down.
The tube made two 360-degree turns, then spat Teddy out into the Dumpster at curbside, creating a cloud of dust. He beat at his clothes for a moment, then collected the crutches he had placed in the corner of the Dumpster, and looked up and down the street. On First Avenue, all hell had broken loose, but the block he was in was oddly quiet.
Teddy jumped out of the Dumpster, and, keeping it between himself and First Avenue, he reached down, grabbed his left foot and pulled it up behind him, sticking his toe through the loop of shock cord hanging there. He dusted himself off again, squared away his hat, picked up the crutches and began swinging slowly toward Second Avenue, picking up a rhythm and making good progress. Then, at the end of the block, on Second Avenue, a woman got out of a car and began walking quickly toward him. She looked oddly familiar.
HOLLY WAS ALREADY OUT of the car when she saw the commotion at the other end of the block, on Second Avenue. This was not good, she thought; she began walking quickly up the block. The only person between her and First Avenue was an elderly, one-legged man on crutches, making his way toward her.
TEDDY RECOGNIZED HOLLY BARKER, and he was relieved to see that she was looking not at him but past him, toward the action on First Avenue. She had begun to run, and he continued toward her. It occurred to him that she would run past the building, so he had no more time. He stopped, reached into his left coat pocket and pressed the button on the garage-door opener. The two explosions went off simultaneously.
HOLLY STOPPED IN HER TRACKS and gaped at the sight of the steel skeleton ahead of her collapsing slowly and noisily into the vacant lot next door. The old man on crutches stopped, looked over his shoulder at the noise, then continued more quickly. Good idea, she thought; get the hell out of here. She stood and watched the building, waiting for the danger to be over so she could proceed. The old man continued past her, and she looked into his face for a moment. Sweat was streaming down it; he must have been frightened by the collapse of the building. “Are you all right, sir?” she asked.
“YES, TANK YOU,” Teddy replied, using a vague mittel European accent. “Vot hoppen?”
“I don’t know,” she said, truthfully.
“I get out of here,” he said, starting to move again.
“Good idea.”
AS HOLLY WATCHED the dust settle, men in hard hats were running out of the cloud of dust ahead of her. There was much shouting. Then she froze as a horrible idea came to her. She turned and saw the old man on crutches nearing Second Avenue. “Teddy,” she said aloud. Then she shouted, “TEDDY!!!” He seemed to pause for a moment, then continued on his way, not looking back.
“Look out!” someone shouted from behind her. She turned and just managed to avoid a group of men who were running past her, apparently escapees from the building. One of them stopped and stood beside her.
“What happened?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” the man said. “The structure alarm went off, and everybody abandoned ship. Then there was a loud noise, and the building started to go. I think everybody got out.”
Holly turned and looked back toward Second Avenue. The man on crutches was gone. She made her decision; she started to run toward Second Avenue.
TEDDY REACHED THE GARAGE, unhooked his left toe from the shock cord and tossed the crutches ahead of him into the RV. He didn’t bother with his coat, just jumped in and closed the door. He was about to start the engine when Holly Barker ran past the garage entrance, headed downtown, never looking into the garage. He turned the key and pulled across the sidewalk and into traffic.
Holly was running down the east side of the street, looking around her for something, looking for him, he was sure. He rolled up his side window, which was tinted dark and, slowly, overtook her. She was, perhaps, ten yards away, jogging down the sidewalk, looking up and down the street, and there was a gun in her hand. Traffic stopped for a light.
HOLLY SEARCHED DESPERATELY through the crowd on the street for the old man on crutches, but he had vanished, as if into thin air. She grabbed for her cell phone and pressed the walkie-talkie button. “Lance. Holly. Do you read?”
“I read you, Holly.”
“What happened over there?”
“Ben Saud is down, single shot to the head.”
“I think I made Teddy.”
“Where? Where are you?”
“An old man on crutches passed me going toward Second, just as the building under construction collapsed.”
“Teddy probably fired from that building,” Lance said.
“I can’t see the old man,” Holly said. “I saw him headed toward Second, and I yelled his name, and he paused, but he kept going. Then I got distracted for a second, and when I turned around he had apparently turned the corner. I’m searching on Second, now, but I can’t see him anywhere. It’s like he just went poof and vanished into thin air. I mean, how far could he get on crutches?”
