I would pound the message home, without raising my voice, over and over, until I felt him give. Then I would show him what happened to his beloved after she left the townhouse. I’d lay the photos out, one at a time, saving the close-ups for last. Are you willing to fail her again?
The sun was going down by the time I broke off the surveillance. I felt more relaxed by then. The lights were on inside the Portola townhouse and I’d caught occasional glimpses of the family through the curtains on the windows. Nothing was out of order, as far as I could tell. Tynia’s resolve hadn’t weakened.
I went from the Upper West Side to dinner at a First Avenue restaurant in the East Village and it was almost nine when I settled the check and walked back to Rensselaer Village. I picked up the mail in the lobby of my building, glanced through it, separating the bills from the usual run of unwanted junk as I rode up in the elevator. I think I was feeling sleepy, from fatigue or from a third glass of wine, but I can’t be absolutely sure. That’s because, when I entered the apartment to find Adele Bentibi asleep on the couch, my heart took off like a rocket and I was overwhelmed by successive waves of emotion. Hope, first, then gratitude, then relief, then fear. For all I knew, Adele intended to stay just long enough to pack her things and quit New York for good.
I draped my bag over the back of a dining room chair, then walked to the couch and dropped to my knees. I didn’t touch Adele, didn’t want to disturb her sleep. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face was pale, as though she’d spent the last few weeks indoors. She was lying with her arms folded across her chest, her fingers curled as though about to make a fist. I’d been thinking of Adele all day, trying to evade little bullets of guilt. I knew I’d relegated her needs to a category that might be called, ‘I’ll worry about it tomorrow.’ Now, tomorrow was lying on the couch.
‘Corbin?’ Adele rubbed her eyes, then sat up to give me a chaste peck on the cheek. ‘If my breath smells anything like my mouth tastes,’ she announced, ‘watch out for your fillings. I need to brush my teeth.’
I observed her march down the hall the way soothsayers watch birds in flight. I was looking for a sign, but I could make nothing of her confident stride. Then the door closed and I went into the kitchen to set up the coffee maker. The shower came on a moment later.
The next fifteen minutes were long and difficult, but when Adele finally emerged, wrapped in a sea-green towel, I began to relax. Adele had made a similar appearance in the hallway ten months before, on the night we first made love. That she hadn’t forgotten was clear from the amused sparkle in her eyes.
‘Did you really think I’d let you confront Aslan without backup?’ she asked.
The question was entirely unexpected and it took me a moment to recall our last conversation. Adele had forced me to admit that I’d be on my own when I liberated Domestic Solutions’ workers and their children.
Though I wasn’t sure I’d need help, I was definitely touched. I reached out to lay my fingertips on the side of her throat, to take the pulse of her life. ‘I don’t care why you came,’ I told her. ‘I’m just glad to have you back.’
Adele smiled. ‘Do I smell coffee brewing?’ she asked.
‘Decaf. You look tired as hell.’ A few minutes later, I walked out of the kitchen to find that Adele had replaced the towel with a flowered Japanese robe. I sat down next to her on the couch and was immensely gratified when she reached out to take my hand. ‘I wasn’t kidding about the main reason for my being here,’ she announced. ‘I won’t let you play lone wolf. I don’t care if the part is dear to your soul.’
‘I can accept that, but I was wondering, besides the main reason, what were your other reasons for coming home? If there were any.’
Adele was nothing if not direct, but this time she chose to evade the question. ‘We have to let it go, Corbin, until this whole business is behind us. I’m not here to distract you. The stakes are too high for that.’ She leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘You know what I want, Corbin? Right now, more than anything else in the world? I want to lie next to you in bed. I want to feel your body next to mine, to hold you in my arms, to feel your heart beating in your chest.’
I hastened to grant Adele’s wish, and without complaint. True, I was anticipating a bit more action after we got through with the heart-to-heart thing, but it didn’t happen, not then. Adele settled down next to me with her leg across my belly and her head tucked beneath my shoulder. She was in a mood to talk.
‘You’re so big, Corbin,’ she said as she ran a finger across my chest. ‘You’re an immense man. Why don’t you act your size?’
I thought about it for a moment, then said, ‘I’m whatever size I need to be.’
‘I know. In the box, I’ve seen you shrink down until you’re smaller than the suspect, until you’re no threat at all. How much do you weigh?’
‘Somewhere between two-twenty and two-thirty.’
‘I feel small lying next to you. I never felt that way with my husband.’
‘Small and helpless?’
Adele pinched my nipple and I jumped. ‘No, not helpless,’ she said. ‘Not while I still have a gun.’
A few minutes later, she fell asleep. I stayed as I was, on my back with my arm encircling her head and shoulders, finally drifting off. It was still dark when I awakened. Adele was already astride me, mouth open as she rose and fell. I reached out to take her breasts in my hands and she looked down at me for a moment. Then she said, ‘I missed you, Corbin. I missed you every fucking minute.’
THIRTY
Adele and I spent a good part of Saturday on a little tour. I took her first to Aslan’s place on North Third Street in Williamsburg, then out to the apartment building in Astoria, finally to Riverside Drive and the Portolas’ townhouse. Margaret and David made an appearance shortly after we settled down in the park. She and her son stood in front of the house for a several minutes, their conversation entirely one-sided. Margaret’s lips moved in rapid bursts. David endured the barrage. He stared off into the distance, a small act of defiance, perhaps, but he didn’t move until she was done. Then, like a dog let off the leash, he dashed across Riverside Drive and headed south. Margaret watched him for a moment before stepping into the street to hail a cab.
Adele watched it all, her attention locked on the encounter. When she finally turned back to me, her eyes were sparkling. The case had grabbed her. She was fully engaged.
Ronald came out a short time later. He posed in front of the building for a few seconds, looking up and down the block as though in search of an audience. His eyes were lidded, his movements slow, almost dreamy, and it was obvious, to both of us, that he was stoned.
‘He’s the one,’ Adele said.
‘You think so?’
‘Yes, I do. But he’s soft, Corbin. We have to remember that. Soft people don’t break, they bend. If we put too much pressure on Ronald, he’s likely to withdraw.’
We returned to the apartment a short time later. Adele went off to give her weapon a quick cleaning, while I phoned Sister Kassia to make sure things were proceeding smoothly on her end. She assured me that she’d meet her obligations, though the tension in her voice was obvious. Taking a civilian into an inherently dangerous situation is a big-time no-no, but it couldn’t be avoided. I’d used Sister Kassia to gain Tynia’s confidence, used her well. Now I was stuck with her.
But the job could only hang me once. Taking a DA’s investigator (currently on a leave of absence) into a potentially life-threatening encounter isn’t encouraged either. If things went wrong . . . Well, if things went wrong, I’d just have to blackmail Inspector Sarney into protecting me. All that bullshit about denying any knowledge of Harry Corbin’s activities? Harry knew where the bodies were buried and he didn’t intend to become one of them. After a light supper at seven o’clock, Adele and I headed into the bedroom to dress. I saw Adele glance into the office as she passed the open door, then stop suddenly.
‘What’s that for?’
‘I know what it is. I want to know what you plan to do with it.’
‘Simple. If I confront Aslan in a public place, there’s a good chance that civilians will be endangered, if not injured or killed. I’m hoping the snap gun will get me into his apartment.’
Adele folded her arms across her chest, her expression bordering on grim. ‘Simple? Corbin, we’ve been together too long. I know simple isn’t part of your game plan. There’s more to this than a threat to public safety.’
‘I want a few minutes alone with Aslan. A polite conversation that might include the odd damaging admission, or even a full disclosure of the facts.’ I winked. ‘And I also want to control the situation, which is why I plan to be waiting inside the apartment when he enters.’
I was hoping the last part would get me off the hook, but Adele continued to study me for a long moment before leading me into the bedroom. I watched her rummage in the closet, sliding hangers back and forth. Finally, she emerged bearing a pair of Grade III-A Kevlar vests. Thick and heavy, III-A body armor is designed to stop any handgun round and most rifle rounds, and to minimize the blunt force trauma associated with bullet impacts, even when there’s no penetration. Myself, I would have been content with something lighter, something less confining, but this decision was clearly out of my hands. I pulled the vest over my head, fastened the straps, stared at myself in the mirror. I’d acquired the vests long ago, while assigned to the Manhattan North SWAT Team. Now I felt like a posturing fool.
Adele and I arrived at Blessed Virgin to find Sister Kassia standing next to an elderly Latino. I introduced Adele before turning to the old man whose job was to drive the small yellow bus parked at the curb. I told him that under no circumstances was he to leave that bus.
‘I don’t care what happens, don’t be a hero. Stay in the bus.’
‘Hey, man, I’m just . . .’
‘Listen to me, the only thing I want you to say is yes.’
‘Si.’
The issue settled, I led the bus through south-eastern Queens. We took the scenic route, along surface streets lined with storefront businesses, Maurice Avenue, 69th Street, Broadway. It was raining just hard enough to loosen the oil and grit on the asphalt, to transform the roads into shiny black sheets that reflected the rainbow of neon to either side.
The districts we passed through were commercial and there were traffic lights on every block, with no apparent effort made to synchronize them. As often as not, the light ahead turned red just as the one in front of us turned green. Meanwhile, I wanted nothing more than to jam the gas pedal to the floor even though I knew the four-cylinder Nissan was more likely to stall than accelerate.
At Roosevelt Avenue, I was brought to a stop by a screaming fire engine double-timing beneath the elevated tracks that carry the 7 Train. Roosevelt Avenue was never designed for traffic. The el’s girders come down almost in the middle of the street, narrowing the road into a pair of lanes, and it’s always slow going. But the ladder truck’s driver seemed not to notice. He continued to run the siren full blast as he shifted into the left lane, effectively blocking oncoming traffic. When that traffic came to a screeching halt, everything stopped, including Harry Corbin. Hurry up and wait. The city demands activity. You can sense its frantic pace in the foul air you breathe as you hustle down the street. But at the same time it puts an endless series of obstacles in your way. The ladder truck, with its driving-challenged pilot, was just another example.
Or so Adele explained. ‘Get used to it, Corbin,’ she said. ‘You’re looking at your heritage.’
I nodded agreeably, but didn’t fail to note the gleam in her eye or the flush in her cheeks.
‘Feel good to be a cop again?’ I asked.
‘Yeah,’ she admitted, ‘it feels great.’
As Adele and I walked toward the brick apartment building on 38th Street, I pulled out the chain concealed beneath my shirt and let it fall against my chest. What with the shield dangling at the bottom of that chain, and the Kevlar body armor, my status must have been obvious to the superintendent, who opened the lobby door after I rang his bell. The super was a wizened man from the Middle East who might have hailed from any of a dozen countries. For just a moment, when I told him to return to his apartment, I thought he was going to become difficult. But then Adele flashed her billfold, revealing her Investigator’s shield, and said the magic word, ‘Immigration.’ Seconds later, we were alone.
Ignoring the elevator, we climbed the stairs to a featureless second floor hallway – cracked tile floor, brown walls, yellow ceiling, green doors. I paused for a moment to get my bearings, then followed the corridor to apartment 2B where Adele and I drew our weapons.
‘You ready?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
As I’d driven past the building in search of a parking space, I’d noted the closed window on the second floor. That meant there was somebody else in the apartment besides Zashka and the women, but that Tynia would open the door when I knocked. Though we’d have to go in hard, we’d have the advantage of surprise. Still, my heart was pounding away. And drawing my Glock didn’t slow it down, either.
I took a deep breath, glanced at Adele, then tapped on the door. It opened immediately and I stepped into a large room, shouting, ‘Police, police, police.’
Zashka Ochirov was sitting on a chair at the far end of the room, her mouth hanging open. Tynia was standing to my right, still holding the door as Adele made her entrance. To my left, two male Caucasians were perched on opposite ends of a couch. They seemed to levitate, eyebrows shooting up, hands rising as though yanked by a string.
‘Anybody else in the apartment I should know about?’ I asked Tynia.
‘No.’
‘Then get moving.’
Tynia disappeared into a rear bedroom and I focused my attention on the two men. Wary now, their eyes reflected a measure of calculation that required my immediate attention. I didn’t know them or what they might do. Better to take precautions early on.
‘Get on the floor.’
I grabbed the first man by the shoulder and yanked him off the couch. Tall, wiry, and much the younger of the pair, he was most likely to resist. When he did, reaching out to grab my arm, I slammed the Glock into the back of his head and he went down hard.
‘Now you,’ I told the older man. ‘Get on the floor.’
‘We have not done nothing,’ he said as he complied. ‘We are abiding the laws.’
I searched both men for weapons. They were clean. Then I pulled the cushions off the couch, discovering a manila envelope where the older man had been sitting. The envelope was stuffed with cash.
I wanted to kill them, right there, and I might have done it if Adele hadn’t laid a hand on my shoulder. Tynia had come into the room, along with the rest of the women and two children, an infant and a toddler. The toddler’s eyes were wide with fear. His hands were balled into fists and his jaw was quivering. Suddenly, he turned away from his mother and flew into Zashka’s arms. She stroked his head and kissed him.
‘Little Teddy,’ she said, speaking without an accent, ‘you have to be a brave boy now. You have to help your mother. She needs you.’
‘Why can’t you come, too?’
Zashka looked up at me, her dark eyes beseeching. I stared at her for a moment, then glanced at Tynia. Tynia nodded once. I couldn’t have asked for more.
‘Go.’
As Zashka came abreast of me, she stopped momentarily. ‘Aslan’s on his way over,’ she said. ‘He’s going to kill you if he gets the chance.’ Then she followed the other women out the door.
I watched from the window until the bus pulled away, feeling instantly lighter. If an unsuspecting Aslan walked through the door, now that I’d done what I’d come to do, it was odds-on that he wouldn’t walk out.
‘What were you going to buy with this money? A few slaves?’
I turned to find Adele standing over the older man. Though still prone, he’d turned his head far enough to fix her with a pale blue eye. ‘I have not done nothing wrong. You cannot do nothing to me.’
‘No?’ Adele crossed the room, opened the window, tossed the money out into the rain. The old man groaned, but kept his mouth shut. He was being treated to a dose of curbside justice and there was nothing more to be said.
It was raining hard when Adele and I came out of the building and the streets were deserted. There were bills plastered to the roofs and windshields of the cars parked on the block, more bills on the sidewalk. I had a crazy urge to pick them up, but then Adele tapped me on the shoulder and I saw the SUV as it turned onto the block and began to accelerate. The vehicle was running with its brights on. Magnified by the wet streets and the falling rain, the glare stretched from curb to curb.
My universe contracted into a single frame encompassing only this street at this moment in time. I reached for the Glock tucked behind my hip, knowing I didn’t have a chance. A bare fifty feet away, the truck was closing fast. We were going to come out second best here. The window was already sliding down. Behind the glare of the headlights, Aslan’s face and the gun he held leaped into focus. The pounding rain effectively drowned out the blasts when Aslan opened up, reducing the gunshots to barely audible thuds. But I saw the gunfire, a trio of muzzle flashes so distinct they might have been separated by light-years. And I saw Adele drop to the pavement and the truck’s brake lights come on as the SUV flew past me, then skidded to a halt thirty yards away.
As I raised my weapon, I fought a surge of adrenaline. I wanted to help Adele. I wanted to kill Aslan. I wanted to fly to the fucking moon.
The truck’s door opened, a foot dropped to the asphalt, a shoulder emerged. I was aiming for the head that followed when I pulled the trigger, but the round missed by a few inches, slamming through the truck’s side mirror. That was enough for Aslan. He jumped back inside and shot off toward the far corner.
The Cold Room Page 23
