Silent Night (Sam Archer 4)

by Barber, Tom

‘So?’

  ‘Damn coincidence, isn’t it?’

  ‘Guess that’s exactly what it is.’

  He looked at Archer.

  ‘You got a murder weapon, pretty boy?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘What time was the guy shot?’

  Marquez rolled her eyes and answered. ’10 o’clock.’

  Sway smiled. ‘Then I couldn’t have killed him. I wasn’t even in this part of the city. I only just got down here. Then you guys sprang these cuffs on me like a goddamn bear-trap.’

  ‘Where were you?’ Jorgensen asked.

  ‘At a coffee place uptown.’

  ‘You’re going to have to be more specific than that.’

  ‘Shit, it was the green one. Starbucks.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. But I was there around 10. Go ask the people who work there. They saw me.’

  ‘Which Starbucks was it?’

  ‘The one by Port Authority. That big-ass bus terminal.’

  ‘Corner of 39th and 8th,’ Josh confirmed.

  ‘So if you weren’t the shooter what are you doing in this part of town?’ Archer asked.

  ‘Taking a look around, man. Is that against the law?’

  ‘Why are you in New York?’

  ‘Visiting. I’ve never been here before. After all this shit, I’m never coming back. I’m not lying. Go ask the people at that coffee place. Hell, they must have cameras. Check them.’

  Marquez looked at Sway, then walked away to one side with Archer, Josh and Jorgensen. Beside them, the gurney carrying the black body-bag with Jacobs inside rattled as it was pushed off the sidewalk and onto the street, rolling towards the back of a waiting ambulance. Beside it, Shepherd finished talking with a CSU investigator then walked over to his team.

  ‘From the trajectory, the team upstairs think the shot came from that building there,’ he said, pointing at what looked like an apartment building about a hundred and fifty yards from the club. ‘CSU and detectives are already over there clearing the place.’

  ‘Any sign of a rifle, sir?’ Marquez asked.

  Shepherd shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He looked over at Sway, who was glowering in the back of the Ford. ‘Has he talked?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s claiming that he was uptown at the time of the shooting.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘A Starbucks.’

  ‘You got the specific one?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Josh said. ‘It’s opposite Port Authority.’

  ‘Anything in his pockets?’

  ‘No vial if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘OK. You and Arch head up there. Ask the serving staff. If they have CCTV, check it. We’ll know within twenty minutes if he’s lying or not.’

  The two men nodded and walked off. Heading towards their car, Josh turned to Archer.

  ‘I’m driving.’

  *

  Parking around Midtown New York was always a nightmare and never more so than at Christmas. However, being NYPD had certain advantages and that night it meant that Josh and Archer could pull up to the kerb right outside the coffee shop. Archer felt the icy wind the moment he got out of the car and was glad that he’d grabbed his coat before they headed off. This was three or four layer weather and he’d lost his hoodie using it as a tourniquet on the girl’s arm. He headed straight for the entrance with Josh.

  Given that they were in plainclothes and their side-arms were mostly concealed, the barista behind the counter didn’t immediately realise they were NYPD. It was much warmer in here and the two detectives relished the change in temperature as they stepped up to the counter. A young blond girl dressed in the standard green apron and black hat was waiting for them by the till.

  ‘Good evening. What can I get you?’ she asked with a smile.

  It faded slightly when she saw Archer’s busted nose.

  Josh showed his badge. ‘We’re with the NYPD. We have some questions.’

  Further along the counter, a woman in a white shirt had seen them arrive. She overheard Josh and walked over to join them.

  ‘What’s going on, Kelly?’ she asked.

  ‘You the manager?’ Archer asked.

  She nodded cautiously.

  ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘You’re not in any trouble. We’re here about a customer who claimed he was here earlier.’

  ‘A customer? What did he do?’

  ‘Can’t tell you that. But he’s saying he was in here at 10pm. Were you on duty then?’

  The woman nodded. ‘I wasn’t on counter though. That was Jay. You just caught him. He’s out back getting changed.’

  She turned to the barista.

  ‘Go grab him, Kelly.’

  Kelly nodded and walked down the counter, disappearing out of sight.

  ‘What does this guy look like?’ the manager asked.

  Josh pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. On the page were four prison mug shots of Sway, Rourke, Wicks and Drexler. Each member of the team had taken a printout of the four suspects before they left the Bureau earlier. Josh folded it so only Sway’s shot was visible, then passed it over. The woman took it in her hands and examined it closely.

  ‘Recognise him?’

  She frowned, then shook her head.

  ‘Afraid not. He’s definitely not a regular. Jay’ll be the one who can help you.’

  Down the counter the guy called Jay appeared, a tall black guy who looked like a college student. He’d changed out of his uniform, wearing jeans and a brown leather coat. He walked towards them and Archer showed him his badge.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Sir, we need to ask you a few questions concerning a customer who was in here almost an hour ago.’

  ‘OK.’

  The manager passed Jay the sheet and pointed at Sway. ‘Do you recognise him?’

  Jay looked down.

  He nodded straight away.

  ‘Yeah. I do. That guy was in here.’

  Archer glanced at Josh. ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yeah. He had a real strong accent. Sounded like a Southern boy.’ He looked up over his shoulder, and pointed at a camera mounted on the wall facing the counter. ‘He had the camera in his face too. Check the tapes.’

  ‘I think we need to,’ Josh said.

  The manager nodded, and stepped away from the counter.

  ‘Follow me.’

  Five minutes later, Archer walked out from the security room and pulled his cell phone. The call connected to Marquez downtown.

  ‘It’s Archer. You’re not going to believe this. Our boy is telling the truth.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We’ve a sworn witness who says he was in here the same time as the shooting. He’s also on the CCTV. I just watched the tape. It’s him. He even looks up at the menu-board and you can clearly see his face.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘We matched the time. He was here at the exact same moment that Jacobs went down. His story checks out.’

  ‘But we need to take him back to the Bureau, right?’

  ‘We don’t have anything to charge him with. We don’t have any proof that he has the virus or knows where it is. He’s got nothing incriminating on him.’

  He paused.

  ‘We have to let him go.’

  ‘OK, I’ll tell Shepherd. He’s going to be pissed.’

  Archer ended the call, then looked back as Josh joined him.

  ‘Damn it. I thought we had him.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘So now what?’

  Archer checked his watch. ‘The club situation is being handled. Jacobs is dead. Sway’s off the hook. No sign of Rourke anywhere. I guess we wait on orders from Shepherd or pray that the virus shows up at the campsite.’

  Josh nodded. He glanced at the barista and manager who were just stepping out from the tape room.

  ‘You guys still serving?’

  THIRTY FOURA couple of minutes later, the two det
ectives were sitting across from each other at a table on the second floor in the coffee shop. Despite the lateness of the hour there were still some people scattered around, most of them engaged in either quiet conversation or tapping away on netbooks. Archer knew most of these places shut at 10pm, but given the winter season they must have pushed it back by an hour or so to capitalise on the extra business. He and Josh had both ordered a drink and a quick bite. They’d been on the go all day, no time to grab anything to eat, and the old army adage held water. Whenever there’s a break in battle eat something. You never know when you’ll get the chance again.

  ‘I still don’t believe this,’ Josh said, biting into a Danish and wiping some icing from the corner of his mouth. ‘That was one nasty son of a bitch. I thought he was a slam dunk.’

  Archer shrugged, taking a bite from an oatmeal cookie. ‘His alibi checked out. Nothing we can do.’

  ‘And now Jacobs is dead. You catch the way Sway was getting at Marquez? Racist asshole.’

  ‘Our profile of him as the shooter was purely based on Peterson’s assumptions. Hendricks called in and said there’re about thirty of them on that estate and they’re coming and going all the time. Any one of them could have pulled the trigger. Until we find a murder weapon or a witness, this is all just a guessing game.’

  ‘So why don’t we bring them all in?’

  ‘Two reasons. ATF has jurisdiction. We move when they say we move. Catching Jacobs’ killer isn’t the priority here. The virus is. And also, no one has any idea where Rourke is. We can’t arrest him if we can’t find him. And if we arrest his entire gang, he might disappear for good.’

  ‘But you heard the call Jacobs took at the Bureau. We just heard Sway talk. They had the same accent.’

  ‘He had an accent. And he didn’t mention the virus during the call. It’s all hearsay. It would never hold up.’

  Josh considered this, looking down at his cup of coffee. ‘Shit, you’re right.’

  Pause.

  ‘But that son of a bitch knows something.’

  ‘But he also now knows we’re onto him. If he’s got half a brain cell, he’ll leave town immediately with the rest of his crew.’

  ‘That’s going to screw up ATF’s operation.’

  ‘Or it might help it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Sway’s not going to hang around. He knows we’re breathing down his neck. And any man who’s under pressure and in a rush is much more likely to make a mistake.’

  Josh’s phone rang. He was mid-mouthful of Danish, but grabbed the phone and answered it.

  Pause.

  ‘Yeah, I’m with Arch,’ he said. ‘We’re still at the coffee shop.’ As he spoke, Archer put the remaining piece of cookie in his mouth, then picked up his tea and leaned back, considering the situation.

  Josh was right. Sway was a home run. He ticked all the boxes, fit the profile perfectly. It was clear from his dismissive attitude towards Josh and Marquez that he had no time for anyone not white Caucasian. But he was here at the time of the shooting. It was on camera and an eye witness backed it up. It was a rock-solid alibi. He couldn’t have fired the rifle. Which meant somewhere, they’d missed something. They needed to go back and reconsider the evidence. Adjust their train of thought.

  There was an answer here.

  They just had to find it.

  Josh ended the call. ‘That was Marquez. They let Sway go. CSU are still trying to pinpoint exactly where the bullet came from. No one saw a muzzle flash and no one heard the shot.’

  ‘The rifle must have had a silencer.’

  Josh finished his Danish and wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘So what now?’

  ‘We forget about Jacobs and pray that we get a lead at the campsite.’

  Silence followed. The Starbucks had music playing; considering the hectic day they’d had so far the normality of the atmosphere was welcome. A moment of calm in the eye of a storm. Archer looked around at the other customers. They had no idea what was going on right now and the potential danger they were all in. He thought back to this morning. Seeing Katic off for the last time. It didn’t even feel like the same day. He ran through everything that had happened since watching her taxi leave. The initial briefing. The ride into Manhattan. Peter Flood’s suicide. Macy’s. The Seaport. The house. Kyle Gunnar. Tonic. He reached up and felt his nose gently. It was sore as hell.

  ‘She got you good,’ Josh said, watching him. ‘You and Kruger look like twins.’

  Archer shot him a look and he thought back to the fight in the club. ‘Thanks for your help by the way. I thought they had me.’

  ‘No problem. Hell of a day, right?’

  ‘Yeah. Thank God we’ve got Shepherd back.’

  There was a pause. Archer thought for a moment.

  ‘What?’ Josh asked.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Why did Shepherd take time off?’

  Josh’s expression changed. He looked across the table at Archer, instantly serious.

  ‘You think I know?’

  ‘You and him go back a long way.’

  Josh watched Archer closely. A long moment followed. Then he nodded.

  ‘This stays here. Understand?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘At the end of October, Shepherd was asleep in bed with his wife, middle of the night. Something woke him up. He heard a noise from downstairs. He was burgled at the beginning of the year so he thought they’d come back for another slice. He pulled his nine and crept out. None of the lights were on in the house. He went downstairs and saw a figure dressed in black, holding a gun. Shepherd shot him twice in the chest. Killed him on the spot.’

  Josh looked down.

  ‘Turned out the guy was his son.’

  Archer’s mouth opened. ‘What?’

  ‘He’d snuck out to go see his girl. The gun in his hand was one of his brother’s toys that the kid had left on the rug. He’d picked it up off the floor to put it away and then Shepherd had appeared and put two in his chest. He was only eighteen.’

  ‘Jesus Christ. Shepherd killed his own son?’

  ‘That’s why he took the time off. That’s why he hasn’t been the same since he got back.’

  Archer’s mouth was open in shock. He couldn’t believe it.

  ‘How’s his wife?’

  ‘She hasn’t spoken to him for weeks. She kicked him out of the house. He’s been staying with Hendricks.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Josh said. ‘Hell of a thing. Man tries to defend his home, ends up killing his own boy.’

  With that the conversation ceased, Archer still shocked at the revelation. Both men sat there in silence.

  Then Josh shot his cuff and checked his watch. ‘We should get back downtown.’

  ‘OK. I’ll be a few minutes behind.’

  ‘Where you going?’

  ‘We need a lead. Something more than the campsite.’

  ‘So where else are you gonna find one?’

  ‘We never checked out Flood Microbiology, did we?’

  Josh thought for a moment. ‘No. We didn’t.’

  ‘I want to take another look around the lab. See if there’s anything we missed.’

  Josh nodded and drained his coffee. ‘Want me to give you a lift?’

  Archer shook his head.

  ‘I’ll walk. Need to clear my head anyway.’

  ‘Hey! Look who it is!’

  Peterson grinned as he walked onto the industrial estate, a taxi behind him pulling away and speeding off into the night. A bonfire was going in the centre of the area, thrash metal coming out of some speakers, bottles of liquor and cans of beer being passed around. Three of the guys walked towards him, shaking his hand one by one. The man in the middle was one of his two companions from the bar in Hoboken.

  ‘You crazy son of a bitch,’ he said. ‘How the hell did you get them to let you out?’

  ‘My girl posted bail,’ Peterson
said, with a grin. ‘Arraignment is in a month.’

  The trio laughed, two of them patting him on the back.

  ‘C’mon, dumbass. Let’s get you a beer.’

  Peterson walked off with the trio towards the main campsite. Behind the bonfire, the doors to one of the meth caravans opened. A big bearded guy stepped out; he pulled down his mask, then grabbed a can of Bud and took a swig.

  ‘Idiots,’ the man beside Peterson said. ‘Cooking product next to our campfire. Hey!’

  The big guy looked over at him.

  ‘You want to take that shit somewhere else?’

  The cooker gave him the finger and drank some more beer.

  During this exchange, Peterson glanced over his shoulder.

  But all he saw were old abandoned buildings and dark forestry beyond.

  ‘You hearing this, OK, Sergeant?’ came Faison’s voice quietly over the radio.

  Sixty yards from the main campsite, hidden in the shadows of the hedge-growth with the members of his team, Hendricks scooped up his radio and answered.

  ‘Copy that,’ he said quietly. ‘Loud and clear.’

  Peterson was wearing a small, imperceptible sticky mic tucked away under his collar. From now on they could hear every word he was saying down there. One of Shepherd’s people had just contacted them to report that the British lawyer had been shot dead at the nightclub before the trade took place. Someone took him out with a rifle. They’d arrested Finn Sway who’d been found near the scene but his alibi had checked out and they’d released him. Shep had wanted to keep him in custody regardless but given that this was an ATF operation, Faison ultimately called the shots. He’d requested that they let Sway go. And so he had.

  Hendricks had agreed with that decision. He knew people like Sway. Even if he didn’t kill Jacobs himself, he would have been implicated. And he was involved with this last vial of the virus somehow. Hendricks had heard the briefing and it all made sense.

  Looking down at the camp, his eyes narrowed in anticipation. Now, Sway would be twitched knowing the NYPD was up his ass.

  All they had to do now was sit back and wait for him and his crew to make a mistake.

  THIRTY FIVEIt was too cold for Archer to walk all the way up to the lab on 66th. Besides, he couldn’t take too long or Shepherd would be pissed. He managed about four blocks, then threw in the towel and hailed a cab.