Endgame (Last Chance Series)

by Dee Davis

  "But why use a name so similar to his own? Surely that's a dangerous game to play?"

  "Maybe." Gabe smiled, knowing the gesture lacked any real humor. "But men like Schmidt are an arrogant lot. It's possible that he liked the idea of us eventually finding the truth. Sort of rubbing it in the wound so to speak."

  "But it puts him at risk."

  Gabe shrugged. "Not really. I mean we still aren't any closer to catching him than when we thought he was W. Smith. Quite frankly, I'd say he's probably laughing his ass off at our expense as we speak."

  "Or maybe we're missing the bigger picture." Her brows were drawn together in serious thought now. He could almost see the wheels turning.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm not sure. I want to think on it a bit. Maybe talk to Harrison. But I think Payton's right. There is something else going on here, and I, for one, don't like the idea of being led around by the nose."

  "I don't see that we have an alternative."

  Madison smiled, their gazes colliding. "There's always an alternative, Gabriel."

  *****

  "I THINK I'VE GOT HIM." Harrison stood up waving at the computer screen with a flourish.

  "Got who?" Madison asked, not bothering to look up from the file she was reading.

  They were waiting on Tracy's autopsy for confirmation and a possible ballistics match. Gabriel had gone over there, unable to wait for the phone call, and Madison was wishing she'd gone along. She'd stayed with the intention of reading over the forensics reports for both Bosner and McGee, but she was having problems concentrating.

  "Schmidt."

  That got her attention. And Payton's, too. He hung up the phone with a decided click, leaving someone sitting on dead air. "What have you got?" He moved so that he stood behind Harrison, looking expectantly at his computer.

  "I've been running Schmidt's known aliases against passenger manifests on international flights into New York and D.C."

  "And you got a hit." Madison, too, crossed to stand behind her friend, the stirrings of something suspiciously like hope in her gut.

  Harrison smiled up at her. "I did. A couple of months ago, a man named Smith Williams entered the country, ostensibly on a business trip. According to the customs declaration he hails from London, working for a company called Houghton Limited. Only problem being that there is no such company. At least not physically. It exists, but only on paper. A slick trick to avoid taxes."

  "And the perfect cover for someone who needs a cloak of legitimacy." Madison frowned down at the computer. "And I assume there are no employees."

  Harrison nodded. "And the owner has never heard of our guy."

  "Was there a destination listed for Mr. Williams?" Payton asked.

  "Nope. But there was a hotel."

  "Bogus, I assume."

  "Actually not." Harrison smiled again. "It's downtown in Battery Park City. And according to their registry a Smith Williams checked in about the same time."

  Madison felt excitement rising. "And is he still there?"

  "According to the records, yes. But when the manager checked the room it was empty."

  "Damn it." The blasphemy was out before she had time to think about it. "I'm sorry. I just feel like we're always one step behind."

  "Well, it's not as bad as all that. I ran the name through the NYPD computers just for the heck of it and I got a hit."

  "But how is that—"

  "It was a traffic ticket." Harrison cut her off. "Issued to one S. Williams for running a red light." He hit a couple of keys on the computer. "And the beauty of the thing is that he had to give an address."

  "The hotel, right?" It was obvious from his tone that Payton was starting to get irritated with Harrison's dog and pony show.

  "No." He grinned up at them. "An apartment complex on the Upper East Side."

  "And you think it's real?"

  "I'm waiting for confirmation from the leasing agent right now. It looks like our Mr. Schmidt finally made a mistake."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  TRACY BRAXTON WAS in the process of cutting into the subcutaneous layers of the chest cavity of a man who'd quite obviously been burned to death. The disfiguration of the body and face lent an air of fantasy to the scene, like some horror movie gone amuck. And in doing so, it removed it somehow from reality.

  Tracy looked up briefly as Gabe walked into the room, then resumed cutting. "You're here about the autopsy."

  He contained a terse reply, knowing that Tracy had other cases besides theirs. "I'd hoped you'd have something by now."

  "I'm sorry. This guy was already waiting in line."

  "Burn victim," he said, stating the obvious in an effort to contain his frustration.

  "Vagrant." Tracy nodded. "Or at least we think so. It's hard to get a positive ID with what's left of him. He died in an abandoned warehouse. Suspected arson. I need to know when he died, and more importantly how his death relates to the fire."

  "And it's important to do it now?" Gabe clenched his fists against his anger.

  "I'm afraid so." She actually looked apologetic, and some of Gabe's anger dissipated. "There's a short window here, he's already degrading, and I've got to get inside before it's too late."

  "And McGee?"

  "Is up next, I promise. But right now I need to concentrate on this guy. All right?"

  "I'll wait for you in there."

  "Gabe—" Tracy's gaze was tolerant but firm "—I'll call you. There's no telling how long this is going to take, and I'm not going to rush it just because you're impatient. McGee will keep. This guy won't."

  "Fine," he said, the word coming out more sharply than he'd intended. But he needn't have worried, Tracy was already back at work on the burn victim, forceps gently separating the ribs.

  His cell phone rang, and he turned away from the gruesome scene to answer. "Roarke."

  "Gabriel." As always her voice sent heat waves chasing through him. "Harrison thinks he's found Schmidt."

  His heart started to pound, all thoughts of Madison pushed away in the rush. "Where?"

  "Here in New York. An apartment building on Eighty-sixth." She repeated the address, and he grabbed a pen to write it down. "We're on the way now."

  "We?"

  "Payton, Harrison and I."

  He recognized the sound of traffic in the background, and realized she was in a cab. "I'll meet you there. Have you contacted Nigel?"

  "Yes," Madison said, her voice fading as the cell phone cut out. "He's still in the Village canvassing. He wasn't quite finished, so he suggested we go on without him. But he's going to try and meet up with us there."

  "I'm on my way." He closed the phone, adrenaline pumping through him. Finally, the game was on.

  *****

  THE APARTMENT BUILDING WAS a walk-up. Decidedly nicer than the one attributed to W. Smith, but it was still a climb to the fifth-floor apartment supposedly rented to Smith Williams aka Ernhardt Schmidt.

  Madison followed Gabriel, in a reenactment of their earlier attempt to nail the man. But this time Payton was along for the ride, leaving Harrison to wait for Nigel and watch the entrance of the building. They all wore headsets, communication being crucial if they were to make certain the ghost didn't vanish again.

  Static rippled in her ear, followed by Gabriel's voice, barely above a whisper. "One more floor to go. When we get there I want you and Payton to hang back. No sense tipping him off with the sound of our footsteps."

  Payton answered affirmatively, and Madison followed suit, although the sneaking suspicion that he was protecting her lingered in her mind, refusing to be dismissed. Still, she wasn't one to flout orders, and there had definitely been a note of authority in Gabriel's voice.

  The landing was more opulent than the one in the Village, and as they stepped out Payton moved to the right, securing the hallway in that direction, and Madison followed suit to the left. After signaling all clear, she shifted to the side, allowing Gabriel to pass her.

  He
moved down the hall, keeping his back to the wall and his eye on the door at the end. 5F. Schmidt's home away from home. Static filled her ears again as Harrison checked in, noting that no one had been in or out of the apartment since they'd entered. After a terse response, Gabriel signaled silence, and inched forward, shifting slightly so that Madison had a full view of the apartment doorway.

  The door stood open.

  Payton tapped her on the shoulder, and signaled that she should move, taking her position at Gabriel's back. Sliding forward on silent feet, she drew her gun and waited. Payton followed her, taking position on the opposite wall.

  The triad complete, Gabriel signaled entrance, and slowly they moved forward, Gabriel disappearing into the open doorway.

  The apartment was dark. Blinds closed, dust motes dancing in the light from the door. An abandoned pizza carton sat on a pass-through, a half-eaten piece of pizza on top. There was no sound at all, not the ticking of a clock, or even the caterwauling of the traffic below.

  Holding her breath, Madison followed Gabriel as he moved into the living room, Payton turning left into what appeared to be a spare bedroom. He popped back out seconds later with a shake of his head, and they headed through the room toward the bedroom. Unlike the earlier apartment, this one was obviously lived-in. There were other take-out containers, and various newspapers strewn across the floor.

  If this was, in fact, Schmidt's apartment, he wasn't a neat man. Something that didn't quite fit with her mental image of a methodical killer, but it took all kinds.

  The bedroom door was open, and something like a squeak caught their attention, all three of them freezing on the spot. Gabriel motioned toward the door, and they fanned out as he burst through, gun barrel leading the way.

  He stopped so quickly Madison almost ran into him, and she could feel Payton skidding to a stop behind her.

  "Nigel." Gabriel's voice was guttural, his anger evident "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "I thought I was meeting you." The Englishman was standing at the end of the bed, a mixture of alarm and sheepishness coloring his expression. "Instead, I'm afraid I found this."

  For the first time Madison looked at the bed, and stifled her intake of breath. There was a man lying there.

  A dead man.

  And unless she was badly mistaken, the man was Ernhardt Schmidt.

  *****

  "I THOUGHT YOU WERE going to wait for us." Gabe watched his friend through narrowed eyes.

  "I was." Nigel held his hands up in defense, his revolver ominously waving with the motion. "But when no one was here, I figured I'd check things out."

  "So you just walked in?" Gabe asked, trying valiantly to maintain control.

  "It seemed the expedient thing to do." Nigel shrugged. "The guy's door was open."

  "I see." At the moment that was the best he could come up with. He turned his back on Nigel, concentrating instead on the body lying across the bed. The man's eyes were closed, the bullet hole in his head the only thing marring the illusion that he was sleeping.

  Madison reached over to feel for a pulse, a shake of her head confirming what they already knew.

  "Is he still warm?" Payton had moved to the window, testing the sash to ascertain that it was locked.

  Madison lightly touched Schmidt's arm, and then nodded again. "I'd say he hasn't been dead long."

  Gabe shot another look at Nigel, who was now walking the room, looking for evidence. Harrison's voice broke into his thoughts, the static reminding him that man was still downstairs. In a few terse sentences, he reported the situation, leaving Harrison to call it in, and get Tracy's folks over for a look-see.

  It seemed they were becoming a magnet for dead people on both sides of the game.

  Payton was standing now at the head of the bed, carefully observing the body, using a pillow sham as a glove in an effort to preserve the scene. "Single shot to the head. Looks like small caliber, but I can't say for sure without seeing the bullet."

  He shot a meaningful glance at Nigel, and then met Gabe's gaze, their minds moving in tandem. Nigel obviously followed the internal discussion, his face darkening with anger. "I had nothing to do with this, if that's what you're thinking. I just picked a lousy time to arrive, that's all. Besides, if I had shot the bloody bastard, why wouldn't I just tell you?"

  "I wasn't thinking that."

  "The hell you weren't." Nigel glared at Gabe, then Payton and then Gabe again. "I saw you both. You were thinking that I had opportunity. But you've forgotten I don't have motive. Would you like to see my gun?" He pulled it out of his holster and held it out. "The barrel's clean." He waved the weapon at Gabriel. "Go on. Have a look."

  "Ballistics will test the gun, Nigel. It's procedure. I don't need to look at it."

  "You'd have thought the same," Payton said to Nigel, "if the positions were reversed."

  "No. I wouldn't have," Nigel said, anger still twisting across his face. "Unlike you, I trust my friends."

  Payton opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of it, turning back to examine the body instead.

  Madison hadn't said anything, and when Gabe looked over at her, he was surprised to see suspicion clouding her eyes. Suspicion, and something else he couldn't quite recognize, but when he opened his mouth to ask her, she shook her head almost invisibly, the gesture meant only for him, her expression clearing by sheer force of will.

  "I can't believe it. We finally find him and he's dead?" Harrison appeared at the doorway, cell phone in hand. "What the hell happened?"

  "Single shot to the head," Gabe said.

  "Execution?" He moved into the room, his eyes on the body.

  "Possibly. Definitely close range. And probably while the poor bastard slept." Contrary to his words, Payton didn't sound particularly concerned about the man.

  "I can't say I'm particularly sorry that he's dead." This from Nigel, his words provoking a startled look from Harrison.

  "How the hell did you get here?"

  "That seems to be the question of the moment." Nigel laughed, the sound far from jovial. "But despite everyone's suspicions, I walked up here just like the rest of you to find Schmidt there already dead."

  "Any sign of an intruder?" Gabe asked.

  "Nothing that I saw." Nigel shifted slightly, his expression reflective. "I waited outside for maybe fifteen minutes. No one came in or out. When I couldn't stand it any longer—" he shot Gabe an apologetic look "—I thought about going up. Unfortunately the door to the building was locked."

  "Not exactly a major obstacle for you," Payton said.

  "No. But I didn't think it was the best thing to do in broad daylight in this kind of neighborhood. So I waited for someone to come out, and when they did, used the moment to walk in before the door closed again."

  "The stupid generosity of mankind." Again Payton had a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  "Something like that. Anyway, from there, you know the rest. I walked up here, saw the door open, assumed you were already inside, and found Schmidt. You came along a few minutes later. You must have been just behind me."

  Gabe nodded, his attention still on Madison, who seemed to be processing the information with added intensity.

  "What did the person who let you in look like?" she asked, her brows drawn together in thought.

  "An old lady." Nigel smiled. "Hardly the type to execute someone."

  "There have been cases..." Madison's smile was brittle, and Gabe wondered exactly where her mind had taken her, but decided now was not the time to press the issue.

  "At least Cullen will be happy about all of this," Nigel continued.

  "How do you figure that?" It was Gabriel's turn to frown.

  "If the killer is dead, then there won't be any more murders, the Chinese will be pacified, Cullen will get his accord and all will be well with the world."

  "Hardly," Madison said, the vehemence in her voice making them all turn to look at her. "We've changed killers before, remember? And you
know as well as I do that if Schmidt was involved in all of this he was only a hired gun. Whoever was pulling his strings is alive and well. And thanks to someone, Schmidt here is unable to tell us anything that might lead us to the real mastermind. Kind of convenient, don't you think?"

  "You think that the person behind all of this killed Schmidt just so that we couldn't talk to him?" Harrison asked.

  "It makes sense." Madison nodded. "What I'm not sure about is why he didn't want Schmidt to talk. Was it because he'd give the plan away? Or was it because he knew something we weren't supposed to find out?"

  Madison looked directly at Nigel, and as Gabe watched, the man flinched.

  *****

  "SO TELL ME what you were thinking." It had taken every ounce of restraint Gabe had to keep from questioning her right there in the room, and then it had taken a little maneuvering to manage to be in the cab with her alone.

  His only regret was that he'd had to leave Payton to watch over Nigel. Not that he expected Nigel to run, but there was something going on here, and he didn't want to make a tactical error. Enough had gone wrong with this case already.

  Madison stared out the window, her profile backlit by the late afternoon sun. "I hate to say it. You're not going to like it at all."

  "You think that Nigel shot Schmidt."

  "I think it's possible. Look—" she turned to face him, her face reflecting her indecision at sharing with him "—if Harrison is right, and somebody planted the false information, then someone on the inside is probably behind it."

  "I'll buy that, but what makes you think it's Nigel?"

  "Well, for one thing, the British have been pretty vocal about their disapproval of the accord. They've got their own interests in China to protect. It's bothered me from the beginning that Nigel was part of the team. Not so much because I had reason to distrust him, but because it didn't make sense politically for his government to pull him off another assignment to come and help preserve an economic alliance they're categorically against."