CHAPTER
58
SEAN HEARD THE SHOTS and turned back toward the park and away from the cabstand at Columbus Circle. Panicked, he spoke into his mic. “Michelle? Michelle, are you okay?”
No answer.
“Michelle!”
Silence.
Sean turned to run back into Central Park.
People seized him.
“What the—” He grabbed his gun.
There were two men.
“Move, move,” one said into his ear.
“Who the hell are—”
“Kelly Paul,” the second man hissed into his ear. “Now move.”
“But my partner—”
“No time. Move.”
They hustled him back into the park through another entrance.
A minute later he was pushed under a blanket on the floor of one of the horse carriages that was making a slow meander through the park. The two men disappeared and the driver, wearing a shabby, old-fashioned top hat and long black rain slicker, flicked his whip and the horse increased its pace.
When Sean started to pull the blanket down, the driver said, “Keep it on, mate. Not out of the woods yet.”
That was when Sean felt a body next to him. He gripped a leg and then a hand and then what felt like a breast.
“Wow, your timing really sucks.”
“Michelle?”
He maneuvered the blanket around until he could just make her out in the dark.
“What the hell happened back there?” he asked.
“Tight spot. Probably wasn’t going to make it, but turns out we had some reinforcements in Central Park too.”
“It’s Kelly Paul.”
“Figured, yeah.”
The horse clip-clopped through the park and back out onto the street.
“So much for a fast getaway,” said Michelle.
The driver heard this and said, “Sometimes slow is best. The other side just hightailed it after a decoy we sent out. You can come up for air now.”
They both slid up in the seat and pulled the blanket down at the same time.
The driver turned sideways and looked at them. “Cut it close.”
“Yes we did,” Sean agreed. “So you know Kelly Paul? How?”
“Not going there.”
“That’s a big favor you just did us.”
“You’re lucky she’s on your side.”
“What about the guys in the park? The shots?”
“Your friend here disabled three of them. Bones busted, all out cold. The shots you heard were the pistols of two others going off right when we hit them. Apparently they had orders to take your lady out. Their shots missed, obviously, though not by much. Our equipment didn’t. They’ll live. The scene will be cleansed. The police report will never be filed. Never happened. Officially.”
“Lot of weight behind them,” said Michelle.
“Obviously.” The man turned back around.
Sean said, “So Kelly had planned for this?”
“She plans for everything. She said you two were the tip of the spear. But a spear also has a handle.” He tipped his hat. “We’re the handle.”
“Thanks,” said Michelle. “We owe you.”
Over his shoulder the driver said, “You two ever took the full carriage ride?”
“No,” said Sean. “And I don’t think we have time to do it now.”
“We’ll take a rain check, though,” said Michelle quickly, snatching a glance at Sean.
The driver slowed the carriage near an intersection.
“Straight down that street. There’s a car waiting, red four-door Toyota. Bloke at the wheel is named Charlie.”
Michelle shook his hand. “Thanks again. I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for you guys.”
“We’d all be dead if it weren’t for some guys,” said the driver. “Just stay alive so we didn’t waste the effort.”
They stepped down from the carriage, walked off in the gloomy rain, found the car, and were soon on their way to Penn Station.
They retrieved Michelle’s Land Cruiser from a nearby garage, gassed it up, and were on their way north before midnight. Michelle had changed the license plates on her SUV, replacing them with a pair of sterilized ones, just in case.
As they left Manhattan behind them, Sean reached out his hand and gripped Michelle’s arm. “Like the guy said, we cut it close. Way too close.”
“But we’re alive. That’s what counts.”
“Does it?”
She glanced at him as she changed lanes and accelerated. “What do you mean?”
“Can we both really keep doing this until it comes to the point where way too close instead becomes, ‘If she’d just not gone through that other doorway’?”
“We both take risks. It could be you too.”
“You take far more risks than I do.”
“Okay, so what?”
He removed his hand, looked away, and watched the wink of big-city lights in the side mirror until they disappeared from view.
“Okay, so what?” she said again.
“I don’t know where I’m going with this.”
“I think you do know.”
“Okay. If it were just the two of us, you’d be dead.”
“You did the best you could. And the alternative was what? Do nothing?”
“Maybe that would’ve been the smart thing to do.”
“Smart for our safety maybe, not so good for trying to solve the case, which happens to be our job.”
When Sean didn’t say anything she added, “We’re in a dangerous business. I thought we both understood that. It’s like playing in the NFL. Every Sunday you know you’re going to get your ass kicked but you do it anyway.”
“Well, players retire too, before it’s too late.”
“Not many do. At least voluntarily.”
“Well, maybe we should think about it. Seriously think about it.”
“Then what would we do?”
“There’s more to life than this, Michelle.”
“Is this because we slept together?”
“Probably, yes,” he conceded.
“So now we have something to lose?”
“Us, we have us to lose. Maybe you could… you could do something else.”
“Oh, I get it. I’m the girl. Let the big strong guy do the heavy lifting, play the hero while I stay home in pumps and pearls and bake the cookies and pop out the babies.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“In case you missed it, slick, I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not denying that.”
“So if you’re really gung ho on this domestication thing why don’t you stay home and play house, and I’ll kick down the doors and shoot the guns?”
“I can’t live my life that way. Always worried that you wouldn’t come home.”
She pulled off at an exit, drove the truck onto the shoulder, slammed the gear shift into park, and faced him.
“Well, how do you think I’d feel if I were the one waiting at home?”
“The same as me,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “That’s right. The same as you. At least if we’re out here together, we have each other. We can rely on each other to get us both home every night.”
“And if we both take it in the end? Like what almost happened tonight?”
“I can’t think of any other way I’d want to go out. How about you?”
After a long moment of silence he tapped the steering wheel. “Put it in gear. We’ve got a job to do.”
“So we’re on the same page now?”
“Actually I’m pretty sure we always were.”
CHAPTER
59
THE SUV HAD SCREECHED to a halt on Fifth Avenue, the door had opened, two burly men had jumped out, lifted Peter Bunting completely off the pavement, and thrown him into the vehicle before he knew what was happening. The truck had raced off and he’d found himself squished between his two capt
ors. They said nothing in response to his questions. They never even looked at him.
The place they took him to was belowground and heavily secured. It was a location New Yorkers would walk over millions of times a day and never know was even there. The room was dark. Bunting stared up at the man in fear.
James Harkes looked different than he had in past meetings. He was dressed the same; black suit that could barely restrain his muscular physique. But his demeanor was different. It was crystal clear that Bunting was no longer in charge.
If I ever was.
Harkes was. Or rather whomever Harkes was reporting to, and Bunting now had a solid idea of who that was.
“Let’s go over your debrief one more time, Bunting.”
There was no more Mr. Bunting.
“We’ve been over it three times. I’ve told you everything.”
“We’ll go over it until I’m satisfied.”
When Bunting finished Harkes said, “Why did you meet with Sean King?”
“Are you keeping my calendar now?”
Harkes didn’t answer him. He was texting something on his BlackBerry. He looked up when he was finished. “There are certain people, all of whom would be familiar to you, that are not happy about your recent performance.”
“I was already aware of that,” Bunting shot back. “If that’s all you wanted to tell me, I’d like to go now.”
Harkes rose, went to the wall, and flicked a switch. The wall suddenly became transparent. As Bunting looked closer he saw that it was a one-way mirror. Seated in the brightly lit room was Avery. Bunting could see that he was strapped to a gurney. There was one intravenous cannula going to each of his arms. The young man was convulsed with fear. His head was turned and he seemed to be staring directly at Bunting, but it was apparent he couldn’t see him. With the special glass and the bright lights he would only be able to see his own terrified countenance reflected back. A heart monitor on a stand was next to the gurney with a line running to Avery’s neck.
Bunting shouted, “What the hell is going on?”
“Avery screwed up. King tracked you through him. And you were aware of it but didn’t bother to tell me.”
“I don’t answer to you.”
Harkes moved with astonishing speed. The blow hit Bunting right above the left eye. Harkes’s hand felt like a block of cement. The blood pouring from a gash on his forehead, Bunting fell forward in his chair, feeling sick to his stomach from the violence of the strike.
He struggled to catch his breath. “Look, you bastard, Foster and Quantrell aren’t the only game in town—”
Harkes hammered a fist into Bunting’s right kidney, doubling him over and dropping him to the floor. This time he did throw up. An instant after the vomit left his mouth he was yanked up and thrown back in the chair with such force that he nearly toppled over backward. When his breath returned Bunting said, “What the hell do you want from me?”
Harkes handed him a remote control device. “Hit the red button.”
Bunting looked down at the instrument in his right hand. “Why?”
“Because I said to.”
“What will happen if I do?”
Harkes looked through the mirror at Avery. “You’re a smart man. What do you think will happen?”
“What is that stuff hooked up to Avery?”
“Two IV lines and a heart monitor.”
“Why?”
“When you push the red button you will put a series of steps in motion. Saline solution will begin flowing through both lines.”
“Saline?”
“To ensure the lines aren’t blocked so the chemicals that will be flowing through them next will not become mixed and possibly occlude the needles. If that happens the drugs don’t reach the body.”
“What drugs? Some sort of truth serum?”
An amused look eased across Harkes normally serious features. “The first one through is sodium thiopental. That’ll knock a lightweight like Avery out in three seconds. The next drug is pancuronium; it causes paralysis of the skeletal and respiratory muscles. The final drug through is potassium chloride.”
Bunting paled. “Potassium chloride? But that stops the heart. That’ll kill him.”
“That’s sort of the point. What do you think we’ve been talking about here, Bunting? A slap on the wrist?”
“I’m not pushing the button.”
“I would reconsider if I were you.”
“I’m not going to kill Avery.”
Harkes eased a .44 Magnum pistol from his shoulder holster and rested the muzzle against Bunting’s forehead. “I can hardly describe what the load chambered in this gun will do to your brain.”
Bunting started breathing fast and closed his eyes. “I don’t want to kill Avery.”
“That’s progress. You’ve gone from ‘I’m not going to kill Avery’ to ‘I don’t want to kill Avery.’ ” Harkes thumbed the hammer back on the Magnum. “One pull and most of your impressive gray matter will be on the back wall over there. Is that what you want?” He brushed the steel against Bunting’s cheek. “Think about it. You’re rich. Beautiful homes, your own jet. A sexy little wife who thinks you’re hot shit. Three kids who’ll grow up and make you proud. You’ve got a lot to live for. Avery, on the other hand, is a completely replaceable nerd. A loser. A nothing.”
“If I push the button you’ll just kill me too.”
Harkes said, “Fair enough.” He holstered his gun, took an envelope out of his pocket and took out four photos, lining them up on the table. “Change of tactics.” He indicated the photos. “Tell me where you want me to start.”
Bunting looked down at the photos and his heart skipped a beat.
His wife and three children were all lined up in a neat little row.
When Bunting said nothing Harkes added, “I’ll give you a choice. We kill her, the kids get to live.”
Bunting’s grabbed the photos and held them against his chest, as though that simple action would protect them. “You will not hurt my family!”
“We either kill the lady or all three kids. It’s up to you. As a suggestion, if we nail the kids you and the missus can always adopt.”
“You bastard. You heartless, sick bastard!”
“If I don’t get an answer in five seconds, they’ll be dead in five minutes. All of them. We know the kids are sleeping over at your sister-in-law’s in Jersey. We have people there to do the termination right now. And please don’t think we won’t.”
Bunting picked up the remote and pushed the red button. He wouldn’t look in the direction of Avery. He couldn’t. He held the button down, closed his eyes.
Three minutes passed in silence.
“You can look now.”
“No.”
“I said look.” The slap across his face made Bunting’s eyes pop open. An iron grip around the base of his neck made him look at the mirrored wall. What he saw stunned him.
Avery was still there, alive. As Bunting continued to watch, men came in and unstrapped the lines from Avery and then freed the restraints on the gurney. He sat up, rubbed his wrists, and looked around in both bewilderment and relief.
Bunting tilted his head upward to look at Harkes, who relaxed his grip.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Get out,” said Harkes. As Bunting slowly rose Harkes ripped the pictures out of his grasp. “But keep in mind that anytime I want they’re dead. So if you’re thinking about talking to King again, or maybe the FBI, I would think real hard before you do.”
‘So this is a warning?” Bunting said shakily.
“It’s more than a warning. It’s inevitable.”
Ten minutes later Bunting was in a car heading back to his house. His face hurt, his heart ached, tears soaked the collar of his shirt. He made six calls, all to people high up in the government. These numbers were for his use only, so there would be no doubt as to who was calling. They were monitored 24/7. Bunting rarely called them, but when he did they were always
answered.
Six calls. And not one of them picked up.
CHAPTER
60
SEAN AND MICHELLE FINALLY REACHED Portsmouth, where they stopped at a pancake house and ate a quick breakfast, paying in cash. Then, exhausted, they slept in the truck in the parking lot for one hour. When Michelle’s cell phone alarm went off they awoke and looked groggily at each other.
Sean checked his watch. “Six more hours to go. Be there by lunchtime.”
Michelle said, “After this is over I am never, ever, driving to Maine again.”
“I never even want to get in a car again.”
“We can’t go back to the inn.”
“I know. That’s why I’m calling Kelly Paul right now.”
“What if they can trace your phone?”
“I swapped out the SIM card for another one I got while we were in New York. I texted her with the new info.”
“How’d you leave it with Bunting?”
“He said he’d think about it. I left him my new contact info too.”
“Think we’ll hear from him?”
“I hope to God we do.”
“And what about the guys in the park? They were definitely set on killing us. If Bunting was involved with them?”
“I looked the guy in the eye, Michelle. He’s scared. And not just for himself. He’s terrified for his family. My gut tells me he had nothing to do with the attack against us.”
“You think he might be dead?”
“What do you mean?”
“They obviously knew you two met. They might have taken it out on him.”
“I don’t know. If he is dead we’ll know soon enough.”
They reached Machias by one thirty. After receiving Sean’s call, Kelly Paul had arranged another place for them to stay. She’d moved their things there and given them directions to it.
When they pulled up in front of the rustic cottage that was set near an isolated stretch of coast about five miles from Martha’s Inn, Kelly Paul came outside to greet them.
“Thanks for the help down south,” said Michelle, as she stretched and did a couple of deep knee bends to work the road kinks out.
“I never send people on a mission without backup. It’s an essential part of the equation.”
The Sixth Man kam-5 Page 27
