by Gregory Colt
She gave me a worried smile before going back in to her stainless steel sanctuary.
“Excellent. Flesh eating, memory losing drugs. War in the criminal underground. I’m excited. Are you excited?” I asked Claire.
“Thrilled,” she said. I got the impression she didn’t mean it.
We made our way back out the side door and into the cacophony that is New York City. Traffic looked rough, so I led us down the sidewalk to the next crosswalk at the light.
“This has gotten about as complicated as it possibly could,” Claire said.
I was about to agree with her when my good friend the universe arrived to elaborate on how wrong we were as a long, gorgeous white car pulled to the sidewalk behind us.
A car door opened and shut behind us, letting someone out, before rolling forward and stopping beside us. The door opened again and a large man stepped out in a black suit. He was shaved bald, an inch taller than me, and twice as wide. He made zero effort to conceal the submachine gun strapped under his jacket. It reminded me how naked I felt without my 10mm. Adrian Knight caught without a gun. You’d have to know me to understand the humor in that.
“There’s another behind us. Fifteen feet,” Claire whispered over my shoulder. She kept cool. Good girl.
“Black on black is difficult to pull off, but I have to say, you look fantastic. And these wheels…” I said smiling as we reached the man in black.
He didn’t acknowledge our presence at all and kept all his senses focused on his surroundings. Not the surroundings, or our surroundings. The look on his face very clearly said his.
I turned to the other one coming in behind us. That guy wouldn’t pull off anything. He was five foot seven, with a donut ring of hair slicked into a short ponytail, wearing a plaid suit with a massive Desert Eagle shoved in the front of his pants, and eyeing Claire up and down with his eyes as he sucked back the last of a cigarette, tossed it, and lit another.
“Isn’t this just turning into a delicious assignment,” he said behind Claire.
Her expression went from fright, to anger, to flat, in less than a second. I knew from limited experience that was bad. For him.
She cocked her hips and subtly adjusted the way she was standing. I’d seen better acts, but not by much.
“I do like a real man,” Claire said.
What’s-his-face had the smuggest look I’d ever seen.
Claire walked over to the man in black and ran her fingertips down his vest.
“And if you ever want to know how to be one, ask him,” said Claire.
“Gentleman, please,” came a calm male voice from inside the open door of the backseat.
The man in black continued on as he was. The other guy looked pissed, but backed off.
The sidewalk glittered in a pattern of light, reflecting off the wheel hub of the back tire, embedded with diamonds forming the letter J.
“Dr. Spurling. Mr. Knight. Would you please join me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Claire gave me a look clearly asking whether we should acquiesce. I looked at the man in black who was staring right past us. The other guy paced back and forth, and I did not like how he was looking at Claire.
I also did not want to get in the backseat of a car with Diamond Jack. I wanted Claire doing it even less, but if he wanted to have a chat, it would be better to get it over with. Seven years ago I might have leaned in, flipped him off, and walked away. I was also stabbed in the back for doing that, once. That part didn’t bother me as much as one would think, and I’m still convinced I made the right call there. However, I wasn’t going to risk the man’s ire when it could be Claire that suffered for it. Besides, I didn’t have one freaking clue what he wanted with us. This could be an opportunity to learn something.
I nodded to Claire and held her hand as she got into the car, then slid in beside her on the bench seat across from our host.
Outside I heard sleazy ponytail guy say, “Just what the fuck are you laughing at?” to the man in black. Claire could be kind of awesome.
Diamond Jack was not what I expected. He had all of the basics. The air of strength, relaxed power and confident posture, perfect hair starting to add some salt to that pepper, and the faintest scar at his throat. But, in his classic gray suit, I kid you not; he was Cary Grant’s tougher looking stunt double.
He made the style look effortless, which helped the comparison. It wasn’t perfect enough to hide the weapon he kept on his chest, but nearly. He was not a man to be trifled with and he knew it.
“Nice wheels, Jack. Is this the ‘88 sedan?” I asked.
He didn’t bat an eyelash and didn’t lose his smile but, for a split second, I could tell people did not talk to him that way.
“I’m so happy you approve of my new Excalibur, Mr. Knight. And yes, it is,” he said as the man in black got in, shutting the door behind him. He sat next to Diamond Jack.
“It is a real pleasure to meet the both of you. Two people with such a pedigree in their respective fields,” he said, turning the same smile to Claire.
“Thank you,” Claire said in her professional voice.
I was concerned about what he meant by my pedigree, and I didn’t like the idea of him knowing more about me than I did him.
“Thanks, Jack. Always nice to be appreciated,” I said.
Claire, whom I had gotten used to getting angry instead of frightened, gave me a worried look, combined with quit screwing around. She scared me sometimes with the clarity of her expressions.
“I’m a big fan of yours, Mr. Knight, but I must admit, as much as I would enjoy hearing from your own mouth the stories I’ve been told, I really am here on business,” he said.
Claire, ever so subtle, stepped on my foot. Probably to make sure I didn’t say anything flippant. She leaned in close, eyeing the man in black and said, “He has a machine gun.”
I was proud of her for noticing. I said as much.
“Submachine gun. MP5K. Come standard in 9mm, but there are lots of variants. I didn’t get a close look, but it seemed modified. Built in suppression unit if I had to guess. Really only good with subsonic ammunition though. Probably using the 147 grain round, right?” I asked the man in black.
He bombarded me with his customary lack of response or recognition of my existence in any way.
“Par for the course, Mr. Knight,” Diamond Jack said. “I am beginning to think maybe some of the things I’ve heard are even true.”
“I guess it depends on what you’ve heard,” I said.
Jack laughed.
“It’s true,” he said. “I made sure not to mention any of them to Argento here,” he nodded towards the man in black. “He’s quite protective. Especially since—”
Argento took one glance at Jack and went for his MP5K.
He was fast. Jack was faster, reaching over and grabbing the man’s wrist.
“Easy, my friend. Easy. They are just investigating those ghastly murders at the museum. He isn’t even armed,” Jack said with a knowing grin.
Crap. I might as well rent a billboard. How in the hell could he know?
“Since what?” Claire asked. “You said ‘especially since’ and didn’t finish your sentence.”
“Yes,” he said, releasing Argento’s hand. “That is much more germane. Thank you, Dr. Spurling.”
Diamond Jack eyed her up and down. Not sexually, but assessingly. I got the same treatment. It was like getting sized up by a predator. Whatever he gleaned he kept to himself.
“I know you are looking into the museum homicides. I know you’re not supposed to be. You’re supposed to be tracking down some stolen artifacts, most likely taken by the killer. I know that you’re here to see what Dr. Page found about the museum victims, and I know a connection exists to another murder that hasn't been in the press. I’m sure you’ve seen Reenan. I am sure you have questions, and it’s no secret he worked for me. I want those responsible brought to justice. It seems to me we are both working to a common pu
rpose. I would like to hire you. Both of you,” he said.
“How dare you! We’re here for Henry Wagner and George Wilkins, and if you think we would take your money—” Claire started in on Jack.
I almost felt bad for grabbing her hand and interrupting her. I liked it when she was on fire and directed it at someone other than me.
“Why?” I asked. “You have more resources than we do. Why us?”
“Because, like I said, you are conducting the same investigation I would hire you for anyway. We have a common purpose and I think it would be less complicated and more successful to establish a working relationship with you instead of the police,” he said.
“Right. You mean you can’t tell the police anything helpful without it leading places you don’t want to go, so you put us in your pocket instead,” I said.
“Not at all. No one would ever need to know I hired you. Nor would I make any requirements or demands of you other than continuing to conduct your investigation, however you see fit, and keeping me informed of your findings,” he said keeping cool.
“If you really are after justice then why don’t you tell us what you know of Reenan’s death and let us do our job?” Claire said.
“There isn’t much to say, Dr. Spurling. He was handling a private matter. An investigation, if you will. I encourage certain employees to take the initiative. Last I saw him was four days ago. Said he needed to confirm something before he bothered me with it. I think it’s safe to say it was confirmed,” he said.
“Got to be honest, Jack, it’s not as encouraging as you would think, mentioning the last person you had investigate something, considering he had his throat ripped out,” I said. “You have a spat with Vitale right now and most of the victims are Vitale muscle. Seems like someone’s doing you a favor, Jack. What’s your stake in this? Why do you care?” I said.
He blinked. Twice. On him, that was paramount to a normal person being paralyzed in shock. He hadn’t known about Vitale’s men.
“I don’t operate that way, Mr. Knight,” was all he said.
Well, hell. I got the distinct impression he was being sincere. As well as the impression that maybe this wasn’t just some bullying tactic to get what he wanted. Diamond Jack didn’t know much more than we did about what was going on. That scared me to death. We needed to get out of the car.
“I’m sorry, Jack. It’s not going to work out,” I said, trying not to be flippant at all.
“I urge you to reconsider my offer,” he said with an edge not there before. “There are considerable benefits.”
“Why don’t you go in and tell that to Reenan, and then threaten me,” I said with an edge all my own.
Jack had gone blank again, but Argento snarled. “Those bastards that did Reenan, do you know what they deserve?”
Holy shit. It talks.
“I was thinking of an extradition to one of the host countries. Technically, they still own the stolen artifacts. Let them spend four decades in a local prison,” said Claire.
I smelled mold and dead rats and burning flesh. Felt the burning wounds beneath my body, lying in the filth of a dark cell, with nothing but the sounds of vermin scratching through the walls and the distant sounds of revelry coming from the men outside, in an orgy of cannibalism from their fresh hunt.
Central America would be a blessing compared to what awaited me in extradition. Still, it would be a fitting punishment. Argento’s savage grin gave approval.
Jack thought for a moment, then nodded. Argento opened the door and stepped out. I guess that was our cue to go.
Claire slid out and tripped over the curb, but Argento caught her arm in time and helped her up.
“Thank you,” said Claire with a nervous smile.
I began to slide over when Jack grabbed my arm.
“I am surprised to see you unarmed. You shouldn’t be, you know, I have a vested interest in your success,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Gee, I’ll try not to let you down,” I said.
“I hoped this would go differently. I have no desire for bad relationships. It’s not good business. I have plenty of enemies. I don’t want you for one,” he said.
“No,” I said. “You don’t.”
I got out. Argento didn’t offer me a hand.
“Good luck, Mr. Knight,” Jack said.
Argento shut the door behind me and tapped on the glass, signaling the driver.
The car pulled out and whipped around to go back and park in the OCME parking lot. Argento stayed to walk.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Claire said to him. She took my hand and we headed to my car with a load of new information that I was confident just made everything a whole hell of a lot worse.
Twenty minutes later Claire circled the block to Nick’s office a second time.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, slouching down in the passenger seat out of view of the window. “Stop at the next corner and let me out so I can walk.”
“Why is the FBI waiting outside the office? Are you sure they’re here for us?” asked Claire.
I looked at her from the floorboard, which must have looked ridiculous, and rolled my eyes.
“Fine. I only wanted to run in and grab the folder I left behind anyway. I don’t have any great desire to go back in there,” she said.
“Me either. If they don’t hang around, I’ll grab it. Otherwise, one of us will have to come back and pick it up. I just don’t want you on their radar,” I said.
Claire snorted.
“Hey, you’re the one with the car remember,” I said grinning.
She grimaced. Probably didn’t like me responding to what I knew she was thinking.
“I’m meeting with some of my research team soon at NYU. I’ll stop for lunch on the way there, and when we’re done I’ll swing by and pick you up,” she said.
“And—” I started as she cut me off.
“And if you’re not here I’ll go get the folder, but I’m not staying in that office longer than the three seconds it takes to grab it. I’ll meet you somewhere else, so call when you’re done,” she said.
“All right,” I said as she slowed down at the corner of the street.
I opened the door and got out. “Take care of my car, Spurling. You break it you buy it.”
“If I total it I’ll owe you a Happy Meal.”
“That’s not nice,” I said, pointing at her and shutting the door.
She left and there was nothing for it but to head on down the sidewalk to the big black sedan with the government plates to see where it would take me. God, I loved my life.
Chapter Sixteen
“Morning Bob,” I said, sliding into the backseat of the big black sedan with the government plates parked outside Nick’s office.
“Where we headed?” I asked unperturbed by the total lack of response from the front seat.
Bob gave me a dead look in the rear view mirror.
“Joe’s deli,” Chris said, looking back. “Abner says it’s the best deli on this side of town.”
“Never tried it myself,” I said.
Chris made some sort of affirmative noise.
“So, is anyone going to tell me what this is all about?” I asked cheerily. “Or maybe why the doors on the office building were busted out?”
Bob eyed me in the mirror again.
“We were hoping you could tell us more about that,” Chris said from the front seat.
I didn’t know if they had gone in to Nick’s office. They probably had, but there was no need to mention it first.
“After I left you yesterday morning I drove down to keep some hours for Nick while he’s out of town. That’s where I was when I got the call from the museum. I assume you’ve heard about the murders there. I left immediately and was at the museum by ten-thirty. You can check with anyone there if you like. Door was fine when I left. What happened?” I asked.
“Apparently the elevator fell during the ni
ght. The pieces of mangled metal lying all over the place are what we call a clue. Shrapnel and the force of impact must have busted the glass,” Chris said.
“That would do it. Abner always complained about those girls sending it up. Glad no one was in the building at the time,” I said.
Bob grunted.
We arrived at Joe’s Deli and took a table on the sidewalk. Chris went to order from the old man at the window, Joe I presumed, without asking us what we wanted.
“You have my cell number and know I’m required to assist the Bureau, yet you wait at my office. What do you want?” I asked Bob with an edge harder than intended. He’d been off his game yesterday morning and now this.
“Spoke with your friend Detective Harris yesterday,” said Bob, choosing his words carefully. “I assume you gave him my number to give you an alibi.”
“Yep.”
“You’re alibi isn’t as solid as you think. It would have been difficult to pull off, not impossible. I backed you, Knight, but I damn well shouldn’t have. Some jail time might do you wonders.”
“Damn it, Bob, I was still in bed when Clark came by the house to pick me up for our meeting,” I said.
“Could be you’re telling the truth,” Bob leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. “You’re right, there’s no way you could have had time. I imagine moving and hiding a couple of containers of arms and munitions takes a few long nights.”
“The Concordia again? You know why I was on that ship. I told you for weeks about tracking an item for the museum. Who knew a criminal would, of all places, choose to smuggle something out of the country on, heaven forbid, a smuggling ship. What do you think I did? Spend a week poking into thousands of containers, finding not one, but two that I wanted, and the stolen goods, packed them onto my back and swam ashore? Oh, right. I wasn’t alone. Nick was with me the whole time. Are you accusing him of arms trafficking too?” I said.
“I’m not accusing you of arms trafficking. I’m accusing you of theft.”
“Theft? From an illegal arms dealer, or his in-between man, the smuggler?” I asked skeptically.
