They found Tomasz Bielinski sitting on the corridor floor in the elevator lobby with his hands around his knees. His eyes looked like he’d seen a ghost, but it was worse, he’d seen a dead body. They detected that he was suffering somewhat, Finch knelt down and spoke to Tomasz and told him to concentrate on the facts, that there was nothing that he could do now to help Mr. Loman, other than assist him and his partner catch whoever did it. He stood up slowly and dragged his hands through his spiky hair and said he’d help anyway that he could.
‘The office is down here,’ said Tomasz.
‘Tell us exactly what happened Tomasz, take your time.’ said Ramirez.
Finch took out his notebook and placed his arm on Spiky’s shoulders momentarily to calm his nerves.
‘Well. I was mopping the floor, you know, singing away...’
‘Singing?’
‘...had my IPod on and was zoning out to the beat, you know?’
‘Yeah, we do.’
‘I see this guy. He’s coming out of Loman’s room, he...’
‘Had you seen him before? What did he look like?’
‘Tall...’
‘How tall?’
‘I guess over six feet...never seen him before.’ Tomasz held his hand up a few inches above Finch’s head. Finch was six feet exactly.
‘So, about six one, six two?’
‘Yeah, bout that. He was a regular dude, a Sox fan...and...’
‘Why’d you say that?’
‘Cos he had a Sox cap on back to front, s’obvious.’
Finch knew that Ramirez would be looking his way and acknowledged by glancing over and nodding his head.
‘Is that about it Tomasz?’ Ramirez wanted to get him clear of the scene before they opened the door where the dead man was lying.
‘Yeah, I guess so, he said he was leaving and that’s when I noticed the blood. Least I think it was blood.’
‘Where was it Tomasz?’
‘Over there by the door, on the floor. I mopped it up before I saw it. You know what I mean? Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s okay. Could you pick him out? You know if you saw him again?’
‘Sure, you mean in a line up?’
‘May be.’
They didn’t need any more information about the guy, they thanked Tomasz and told him they’d take it from there, they got his cell number and address and let him go. Finch advised him that there were people down at the precinct that would help him if he needed any counseling. He said ‘I’m okay,’ but Finch reminded him that the offer was there.
Tomasz skulked out towards the elevator and Ramirez opened the office door.
They both stood in the center of the office putting on surgical gloves, scouring around to take in evidence and information. They observed the body visually but would leave CSI to examine it in more detail.
‘You know who that is don’t you?’ said Finch.
Ramirez looked at the body again, ‘Yeah. It’s...Loman, as the young guy said.’
‘It’s Shadow.’
‘Shadow?’ Ramirez thought for a while and realized why Finch had asked him. ‘The guy that Stone was always talking about? He said he’d killed Randall and Bloom. Yeah?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Look. I’m back okay. I’m not jumping to any conclusions, even though we know Spiky described Stone to a T, it means nothing without the facts.’
‘It’s great to hear that Ramirez. You are back.’
‘We need CSI. Have they been called?’
‘Yeah…’ said Finch. ‘…should be here any minute.’
They took their time to go over the physical evidence presented to them. Shadow had been shot, at close range that much was clear, and he had a gun in his hand. He may or may not have fired it at his assailant. Whoever that was had possibly been shot also and that would explain the blood on the floor that Tomasz had inadvertently cleaned away. Finch found some tiny splatters of blood on the door frame and they agreed that it could only have come from the murderer who must have taken a bullet from Shadow before or after he was shot.
‘Look here,’ said Ramirez.
On a side table there was a silver attaché case, the catches were undone. Ramirez took a pen out of his pocket and carefully prized it open until the lid was vertical.
Finch whistled.
‘There’s gotta be a million in there, whad’ya say?’
‘Stone’s story is holding out again. He said Shadow had followed Bloom to get his money back.’
‘Pity. ‘Spose we have to return it to Mrs. Randall.’
Finch wondered for a second whether Ramirez was serious or not. He laughed and carried on checking out the murder scene.
They heard voices coming from the corridor.
Finch stepped out and saw two CSI guys kneeling down on the floor. One was shining a purple light across the tiles and the other was taking samples from something with what looked like household cotton buds.
It was Jones and Phelps. They’d bounced each other up many times all over the borough. Ramirez joined Finch outside and asked Jones what they had.
Jones, the female officer taking the samples said, ‘It’s blood. A trail of blood. Too small to be seen by the naked eye, that’s why we always scope the outside of the scene before we enter, we might destroy vital evidence.’
‘A trail?’ asked Finch.
‘Yeah,’ Jones looked back up the corridor. ‘Seems to be leading to the restroom.’
All four turned their heads towards the restroom door.
Ramirez then shot a glance over at Finch who gave a silent whistle and raised his eyebrows.
Phelps rose up off his haunches; he bent forward, and shone the purple light in front of him, tracing the trail of blood. When he got the door he spread his legs to arch over any spots or prints on the floor and pushed the door open with his free hand.
They saw him looking at something low down, probably on the floor, he turned back to look at them and his eyes said everything.
Phelps told them what he could see, ‘We have a woman, young, mid-twenties, exotic complexion. She has a gun in her right hand.’
‘Dead?’ asked Finch.
Phelps stepped into the restroom and Jones held the door open for him. He straddled the woman’s body and reached down to feel for a pulse in her neck. She was barely warm.
He shook his head.
Chapter 46
The bomb exploded, decimating the apartment above the delicatessen and blasting all the glass from the windows into the street below with an ear wrenching crashing sound that shook the ground around. Smoke and fire raged inside at the epicenter where Scarface had secreted a device inside a chair cushion. He detonated the bomb via his cell phone from the hotel room across road. The person that he saw walking around the room would not have survived.
He had to be dead.
Stone and Mac had just parked up the rental Taurus at the back of the building when the blast happened. Fragments and splinters showered the area and peppered the roof of the car. When the dust had settled Stone looked up and saw that the debris was radiating out from their upstairs apartment.
They instinctively jumped out of the car and ran to the kitchen door.
Scarface’s job was complete. He gathered his flask and garbage and stowed everything away in his backpack. He returned the table to the exact position it was in before he arrived, then he checked around the room one last time and locked the door behind him. He thought he’d been careful not to leave any evidence of his presence there or anything behind.
People ran out of the shops next door to the delicatessen, they stood and stared in horror at the damage to the building and the fire and smoke rising into the air from the holes where the windows used to be. The hotel desk manager saw the whole thing. The hotel lobby looked onto the delicatessen and he gave himself a moment to overcome the shock of the explosion, took a deep breath and called 911.
The fire tender’s siren could be heard faintly i
n the distance after less than a minute, it was on its way already. The manager called around to make sure all his staff were okay and told them to check on the guests who were in the hotel at the time of the blast.
Scarface waited for an opportune time when the manager was busy on the phone and slipped out of the rear door that led to the guest car parking.
Mac got to the door first and ran through the kitchen and found Mrs. Zavatonni at the foot of the stairs leading up to their apartment. She appeared miraculously to be unharmed although she was coughing and crying and in some distress. When she saw Mac she collapsed into his arms.
‘He’s up there Mac,’
‘Who Mrs. Zavatonni? Who’s up there?’
‘Alfredo,’ she was crying so much she could hardly talk. ‘He went to fix the tap.’
Stone heard what she had said and felt guilty, he had had a word with Alfredo the day before about a leaking tap in the bathroom at the far side of the living room, otherwise he may never had been in the apartment.
‘Okay. Please wait outside for me Ms. Zavatonni and get some fresh air, I’ll get him, go... go now with Brad!!’
Stone guided her to the back door where she would be safe from the fire and smoke and then went after Mac to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. It was too late, he was on adrenaline overdrive. He ran up the stairs, kicked in the door to the apartment and dropped to his knees to stay below the smoke line. Stone followed a few seconds later and stayed by the door and watched in case he needed help.
Mac took off his overcoat and draped it over his head and body like a cape and pulled his shirt up over his mouth to keep out the smoke. Scorched air hit the back of his throat and his eyes squinted trying to penetrate the searing heat. He scanned around the room and saw Alfredo lying face down on the carpet in the middle of the room.
He wasn’t moving.
The sirens grew louder and a tender reached the building and parked up in the center of the road. Fire fighters scrambled out of the vehicle like rats from a pipe and immediately began fixing up hoses and ladders.
‘I’ve got him Stone. Don’t know how he is yet.’
Mac crawled towards Alfredo, the fire was raging all around him, the drapes were ablaze and the furniture was almost completely burnt through.
Stone was lying in the doorway watching him, and the fire as it devoured the room.
Mac had to be quick.
He reached Alfredo’s legs and grabbed hold as tightly as he could. He began to pull him but he was heavy and it wasn’t easy against the thick carpet pile. Stone crawled up alongside Mac and grabbed one of Alfredo’s legs. Working together Alfredo’s body started to move. They could sense that he was in a bad way but hoped he was still alive. They had to give him every chance and pulled his body across the floor until they reached the doorway.
They could now safely stand up, Stone took Alfredo’s legs and Mac lifted him by the arms and they carried him downstairs to the hallway where they laid him gently down on the floor.
Mrs. Zavatonni saw her husband’s body lying motionless on the floor and wept bitterly. All she could think of was that she couldn't lose her husband, not now.
Stone went over to comfort her.
Mac put a finger to Alfredo’s throat and thought he could feel a pulse, albeit weak.
‘I think he’s still with us, just.’
Fire fighters broke down the front door to access the building and crossed the restaurant dining area and into the hall where Mac was standing over Alfredo. Mac apprised them of the situation saying there were no other people upstairs but said they needed an ambulance for Alfredo, and quick. The lead fireman radioed through to his captain out in the street and paramedics, who were awaiting instruction outside regarding any casualties, entered the building carrying a stretcher and their first aid bags.
The medics checked Alfredo’s vital signs and agreed with Mac that there was an outside chance that he was still alive. They gave him an injection of Epinephrine and placed an oxygen mask over his mouth to assist his breathing. There were no visible signs of wounds or broken bones but he may have concussion and other internal injuries from the blast, the medics said. Mrs. Zavatonni climbed into the back of the ambulance to accompany her husband to the hospital. She was clinging to the faint hoping and praying that he would survive.
Stone and Mac were persuaded to go for a checkup also and as the ambulance drove away they looked back through the rear door at the fire-fighters spraying water onto the roof and into the windows to put out the fire.
‘That was meant for us you know,’ said Stone, looking back at the building now fully ablaze.
The thought hadn’t occurred to Mac yet, he’d been so busy with the rescue. It hit him hard when he realized that one of them, or both, could be lying where Alfredo was right now.
‘My God, I guess so mate.’
Chapter 47
A specially chartered private plane, an eight-seater Learjet 45 XR, was being prepared for the flight from New York to the Bahamas. The pilot was taking the plane through the pre-flight check and technicians outside the plane were reading gauges, putting away re-fuelling lines and another was wheeling an external stairway over to the plane’s entrance doors.
A stretch limo, with Maloof’s five visiting businessmen from the Middle East, was just arriving at the charter flight compound. The vehicle moved silently to a standstill within ten yards of the plane and two muscle bound drivers cum bodyguards, wearing shades and concealed hand weapons, alighted quickly and opened the side doors to let out the occupants.
Maloof himself had arrived early and was sitting in the back of his Esplanade and was just about to join him when he received a call from Abdul on his cell phone. He didn’t speak, he listened to Scarface telling him about the explosion that had ripped through the apartment above the Delicatessen. Maloof broke out into a broad smile, took a puff on his cigar and when Abdul had finished talking, congratulated him on a job well done.
Abdul Habib, driver, bodyguard and sometimes assassin, had just reported to his employer, Samir Maloof, that Brad Stone was dead.
The ambulance carrying Alfredo Zavatonni to the E.R. sped through the streets with its sirens wailing, the paramedics in the back tending to him were becoming increasingly concerned at his condition and they had asked the driver to step on it. Alfredo’s pulse was weak from the outset but now was slowing down even more. His blood pressure was low and the signs were pointing to there being internal bleeding probably from a major organ. The lead paramedic was relieved to see the gates of the hospital appear through the window and as soon and the driver pulled up under the entrance canopy, they almost kicked open the doors, snapped the gurney’s wheels down and raced into the emergency room with bits of kit bouncing up and down on the bed and tubes flapping around everywhere.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, Alfredo Zavatonni was fighting for his life.
News of the explosion had already reached the hospital and they were expecting several casualties to be brought in and an additional Doctor and two auxiliary nurses had been drafted in from the wards in readiness. The E.R. was not exceptionally busy yet the waiting room was full with the usual sliced fingers, bruised toes and kids with foreign bodies up their noses.
Stone felt like a bit of a fraud sitting on the edge of an E.R. bed watching a nurse check Mac over for signs of smoke inhalation and burns and after checking his blood pressure, his vision and his hearing. His blood pressure was marginally higher than normal, but it was wholly attributable to the proximity of the pretty nurse. It was the closest and most intimate contact he’d had with a woman of the young female kind in weeks.
They were both declared fit and well, which was not a surprise to Mac, he’d been in similar situations even before breakfast when he was on active service, and they decided to hold on for news of Alfredo in the waiting room. No sooner had they sat down when the TV monitors around the room, which were showing Spongebob Squarepants cartoons, first went black, then a news
report flashed up on the screens.
‘No, please don't let it be another...’ said Mac.
But it was.
The roving reporter with his microphone in hand, was standing before yet another set of school gates and in the background students could quite clearly be seen milling around. Some, mainly girls, were leaving the premises huddled together and it looked like they were crying. Parents could also be seen waiting by the entrance anxious to collect their children who, the reporter said, were being allowed home early due to the awful news that one of their pupils had been missing for several hours. It was feared that she too had also been abducted.
‘What’s that number three?’ asked Mac.
‘Shhh,’ said Stone. ‘I’m listening.’
‘This brings the total to three young girls now that have mysteriously gone missing in less than twenty four hours and the police have not commented but it is widely regarded that the abductions, alleged abductions, are related in some way. The thirteen year old Chinese girl, Jessica Wong, said to be an outstanding academic student, has not been answering her cell phone, which, her parents and friends say, she uses constantly, twenty-four-seven.
‘Sorry Mac, it’s just that they need to lock this situation down before he strikes again. I’m gonna call Eleanor.’
‘I know mate. If I could do something...’
Stone wandered over to the lobby and tried to call his ex-wife, he wanted to know that Laura was okay, and despite re-dialing several times, her cell went to voicemail each time.
He almost threw the phone at the wall in frustration.
Ramirez and Finch had been called into the bosses office and Vera Kowalski, his secretary, had brought them both coffee telling them that he’d be in at any moment, he’d apparently been called over to One Police Plaza at short notice this morning but was minutes away from getting back.
DEAD MAN'S JUSTICE - A Place of Evil (Stone & McLeish Thriller Series of Stories Book 2) Page 18
