88 Killer th&dl-2

by Oliver Stark

  Leo turned his head away.

  ‘I know about the beatings, Leo, and the threats — they told me.’ Harper watched. It was a bluff, but not a big one. ‘Think about this, Leo. When you joined up, did they ever tell you that they wanted a fall guy, someone to go down, while they escape? I bet they didn’t sell it like that, did they?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let’s just complete this paperwork and get you out of here. Far as I can see, you didn’t lay a finger on anyone until things got intense. You hit me, but you could argue you didn’t know who the fuck I was. I didn’t show any ID, right?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Any lawyer with half a brain could get you off. So let’s just get this done right now.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Ticking boxes, Leo, that’s all I’m doing. I’m a trained fucking box ticker. You think cops are thick? Now you know why.’

  Leo laughed.

  ‘That’s right, Leo. We’re a bunch of sheep. No one’s independent. No one’s operating from personal integrity. I bet it feels like that with you, doesn’t it? You don’t call the shots any more.’

  ‘I just get told.’

  ‘That’s right, you get told, like you’re some fucking ninth-grader. Tell them to go fuck themselves, Leo.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You’re taking this shit because some asshole told you to do something you didn’t choose yourself. I tell you, I bet if you’d done it yourself you wouldn’t have got caught, either.’

  ‘No damn way.’

  ‘Let’s get ticking,’ said Harper. ‘Then you can go focus all that energy on something worthwhile. Make something of yourself while you can. You’re still young.’

  Leo Lukanov’s head nodded a little. Harper looked at him. Lukanov was listening. Harper was trying to feed him a story, a way to understand his behavior, then he wanted to give him a door. The door would come later; first, you had to prime people. He continued, ‘We all get angry, Leo, but you don’t want to spend your life in jail. It’s a shit place to be. You don’t want that. So here we go.’

  Harper spent ten minutes going through all the information he already knew. Age, date of birth, conviction records, alias, known associates. Leo just agreed as things progressed.

  ‘Okay, next question. What’s the name of the other guys you were with?’

  ‘I’m not giving no names.’

  ‘Shit, Leo, I’m trying to get you off here. I’ve got the fucking names written right here. Look!’ Harper showed Leo the three names. ‘I got all this information. We’re just signing it off to please the Captain.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘So again, who were the three guys you were with in the alleyway?’

  ‘Ray Hicks, Tommy Ocks, Paddy Ellery.’

  ‘Right, we’ve finished another page. Well done. We’re nearly there. Okay, now this bit is tough. We need to know how to explain the barbed wire, or else you’re going to go down for the murder of David Capske.’

  ‘I didn’t kill David Capske.’

  ‘I know that — you know that — but my guys upstairs want to pin it on you. Your guys out there are pinning it on you. They’re all just looking out for themselves.’

  ‘No, they’re not,’ he said. ‘Not my guys.’

  Harper opened the file. ‘Oh no, big man? Well, in that case, they didn’t tell us that it was you who received the black card for the Denise Levene attack. Yeah, Leo, that’s what they said. That’s how the operation works. Your so-called buddies told us. The lead guy gives out a black card with a name on and you do the person on the card. Is that right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Leo.

  ‘So, as far as this goes, I got to say here who was the lead. At the moment it was you. As far as your guys are concerned, it was you. If you’re the lead, Leo, then this looks ten times worse. If you’re the lead on this operation and it’s premeditated, that’s a very serious fucking crime. The lead is responsible. So, Leo, let’s check this box. You weren’t the lead, were you?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I wasn’t the lead.’

  ‘That’s right, Leo, you weren’t the lead. Smart boy.’

  Lukanov swiveled in his seat and dragged on the cigarette.

  ‘Next up, who’s the lead?’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘If it’s not you, it’s got to be someone. Just give a name, Leo. The name of the guy.’

  ‘There is no guy. I got the card. The card just comes.’

  ‘Fuck that. No one goes and fucks people over for a card through the mail.’

  Lukanov breathed deeply. Harper shifted in his chair. ‘I just need to get this signed off. The thing is, Lukanov, I’m in a hurry.’

  ‘I got all the time in the world.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I got nothing on.’

  ‘Eddie, give me an update.’

  ‘She’s already been found. The media are all over her.’

  ‘You need to go home, son,’ said Harper.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Leo. ‘Who’s been found?’

  ‘Media got your name, Leo. We tried to keep it quiet, but the Capske thing is fucking major. I mean, everyone wants to know. So now your name’s out there. They’ve got your home address, Leo. And now they’ve found your mom’s address.’

  ‘What the hell does this have to do with her?’

  ‘The press don’t give a flying fuck for you or your mom.’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘They’ll be hounding her, raking through her trash, searching records, speaking to neighbors, work colleagues, phoning, knocking, hour after hour. She’ll be a prisoner too, Leo. All on her own, I understand.’

  Leo rose; the handcuffs clinked taut. ‘Let me go.’

  ‘Give me the name, Leo.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Be a fucking man, you coward. Be a fucking man, for once. Look after your family, right? Your mom. Look after her, not some lowlife who set you up.’

  ‘What do you mean, set me up?’

  Harper tried his trump card. ‘I think this scumbag set you up. How the hell do you think we got to that alleyway? He set you off, then called us. He probably wants you to go down for the Capske murder.’

  ‘He fucking called you?’

  ‘He killed David Capske but he wants you to burn for it. He chose the barbed wire because you bought it.’

  Leo bent over and hit his head on the table. ‘I need to go see my mom.’

  ‘Leo, be smart. You let this asshole put this Capske killing on you and you’re the number one hate figure. Even if the evidence doesn’t stack up, by then, your mom’s life will be fucked to pieces. Her life is hell. They’re going to hunt her in packs until she tells them something. Then they’re going to hunt down your ex-girl friends, friends, brothers, sisters, until they’re painting ugly pictures of you all over. Fair trial? Not a chance. Unless you act smart and speak, you’re going down for stuff you didn’t even do, Leo. And in prison, they’re going to smash up a poor white racist like you.’

  Leo stared at Harper. He was breathing heavily. ‘You’ll let me go?’

  ‘I’ll do my absolute best. We’ll try to spring you and you can walk free, go see your mom. You’ve got to trust me, Leo. I don’t want you locked up in here, but you bought that barbed wire and that barbed wire killed David Capske.’

  ‘I give you a name, I walk?’

  ‘You give us what we need to nail Capske’s killer, and we make sure you’ve got a way out.’

  Leo paused. ‘I didn’t kill no one. We were building fences. That’s what the barbed wire was for.’

  ‘What fences?’

  ‘Upstate. At the compound.’

  ‘What compound?’

  ‘He bought five acres.’

  ‘Who bought it, Leo? They’re going to come in here in ten minutes, bag you up, shove you in a truck and send you off to the state penitentiary. They want someone for this, Leo. They don’t care who it is, they just want so
meone.’

  ‘We were fencing off our land.’

  ‘What land?’

  ‘We just want a place we can call our own. A white homeland.’

  ‘I want that name.’

  Leo Lukanov looked up. His eyes wide and open. ‘I get off? That’s for real?’

  ‘You get off the Capske murder. You walk.’

  Leo Lukanov stared at Harper. ‘What about protection?’

  ‘From whom?’

  ‘I just need to know. If he finds out, I need to know.’

  ‘Who, Leo? Give me his name and we’ll look after you.’

  Leo Lukanov twisted his hands into a hard knot. The fear was visible in his eyes. ‘Heming,’ said Leo. ‘Martin Heming.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  North Manhattan Homicide

  March 9, 9.09 p.m.

  Harper sent out word to the team. They were hunting a man who went by the name of Martin Heming. He called Jack Carney with the same information. An hour later, Jack Carney turned up at North Manhattan Homicide carrying a box.

  ‘Jack,’ said Harper. ‘I didn’t expect a personal call.’

  ‘I needed to come, there’s so much shit on Heming.’

  ‘What have we got? Is he someone?’

  ‘We’ve got a pretty substantial file on him,’ said Carney. He dumped the box on Harper’s desk. ‘He’s a long-time agitator. A neo-Nazi. He’s got his own set-up — website, blog, pamphlets and publications. He even self-published a book called The Desire of the Will.’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘Evolution, social science, politics, history. But in a nutshell, it’s about how bad the Jews are and why it’s true that they really are trying to destroy America.’

  ‘I get so angry at this stuff, Jack. This is hateful shit. How do you stand it?’

  ‘Same as you. We hate it, so we try to clean it up.’

  Harper nodded. ‘Associates?’

  ‘He’s clever, Heming. He seems to be in charge of operations but there’s no direct link. He’s been arrested a couple of times, but for low-level offenses.’

  ‘Addresses and haunts?’

  ‘Yeah, a couple of places he goes to, and the apartment in Crown Heights.’

  ‘Thanks for this, Jack, I appreciate it.’

  ‘Listen, Harper, it’s not all altruistic. I want to jump into bed with you on this one.’

  ‘Your knowledge is going to be useful. What are you after?’

  ‘You’re going to be getting to the heart of some of these neo-Nazi groups. This could crack open a lot of our cases. And we might be useful to you. I can put the Hate Crime team at your disposal.’

  Harper shook Carney’s hand. ‘Let’s find this sick bastard,’ he said.

  The teams went out searching for the leader of Section 88, Martin Heming. They tried all the known haunts and addresses. Everyone came up blanks. There was no question about it, Heming knew and had gone into hiding.

  Harper returned to his desk and received a report from Forest Park. They’d found blood on the bushes. Abby’s blood. Harper put the report down.

  His plan was simple, but dangerous. He walked to Lafayette’s office, thinking it through. The Captain beckoned him in.

  ‘Any news?’ said Lafayette.

  ‘Denise has gone across to see Dr Goldenberg. We found Abby’s blood on the bushes.’

  ‘What about this Heming guy?’

  ‘The thing is,’ said Harper, ‘we’ve got this guy on the run. He knows we’re chasing him. We’ve got his place under surveillance and all known haunts, but he’s gone. He’s going to be difficult to find.’

  ‘You think he might have gone out of state?’

  ‘Denise and I think that he’s still here, and that Abby is somewhere close. I think he needs this. He killed Marisa after we arrested four of Section 88.’

  ‘What are you suggesting, Harper?’

  ‘We don’t sit and wait. We set a trap.’

  ‘What kind of trap?’

  ‘We release Lukanov and follow him. Either the killer will come to him or he’ll go to the killer.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Heming will know that Lukanov has said something. The killer’s got to be worried about these guys being inside, talking to us.’

  ‘You got a point. You think it’ll flush him out?’

  ‘They’ll make contact. Even if by phone or email, but that might be enough.’

  Lafayette stared at Harper for a moment, then nodded. ‘Okay, get it done.’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Forest Park, Brooklyn

  March 9, 9.17 p.m.

  Denise Levene sat next to Aaron Goldenberg. ‘You wanted to speak to me,’ she said.

  Aaron tried to appear calm, but his eyes were anxious. ‘Have they found anything in the woods?’

  ‘They found a small amount of blood on one of the thorn bushes. It’s Abby’s. Looks like she crawled into a bush, scratched herself.’

  ‘Who would do this? Who’d want to hurt her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Denise. ‘There’s nothing on the attacker. The rain hasn’t helped and the time.’

  ‘But at least you’re investigating. You said you wanted to shake him out of the tree.’

  ‘Yes, we released a story that this was being looked into as a homicide investigation.’

  ‘I think you shook the tree well.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Aaron stood up and walked to an antique bureau in the window. He took out an envelope. He returned to Denise.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The kidnapper wrote to me. I received it this morning.’

  ‘The kidnapper?’

  ‘She may be alive,’ said Aaron.

  Denise put her arm around him. ‘Yes, she may be, that’s good.’

  He placed the envelope on the table. Denise looked at it. ‘Aaron, you know sometimes sick people get involved in crimes they had nothing to do with.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean this could be a hoax. Until we get it analyzed, we can’t be sure.’

  ‘Oh, I am sure,’ said Aaron. ‘I am very sure.’

  ‘Have you called the cops?’

  ‘No, I called you.’

  ‘Munroe or Gauge?’

  ‘They’ve moved on, passed their information to Homicide.’

  ‘Let’s take a look,’ said Denise.

  Aaron nodded. He went to take the letter, but she held up a hand.

  ‘Don’t touch it any more. It may contain evidence. They can find a lot from a letter.’

  ‘And what about you? What does this tell you as a psychologist?’

  Denise took out a set of latex gloves and put them on. ‘It tells me that he needs to be caught.’

  ‘But what else?’

  ‘I think he’s escalating. I think he’s changing. He started this as a secret and private thing. He went to some lengths to hide what he’d done with Esther and Abby, even changing the MO. Then things exploded with Capske. He went public and he started to show how dark he was. The barbed wire was a particularly evocative touch.’

  ‘It fits.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He hates Jews. He imagines himself part of some powerful Nazi project. They work in groups. They need each other to keep the delusion going. That’s why they come together. It is difficult to be a lone Nazi, because there is nothing but madness in it. But they need more than a group. They need the ideology, the symbols, and the dress. With all this paraphernalia, they can believe that their hatred is real. Then they need to focus all that hate and all that delusion on an object. On a Jew or a homosexual or a gypsy or an immigrant. They get reactions, they get to feel the excitement of hurting others. It begins to feel like their project is more real than anything else, so real that the rest of the actual world disappears. But even this is not enough. They need to kill and hurt as Nazis. They need to scrawl Nazi images on sacred buildings. They need, in this case, to use barbed
wire, the image of the Holocaust, to hurt someone Jewish. A double attack.’

  Denise picked up the letter. ‘You see this in Esther, too?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Aaron. ‘Cutting fingers off to get gold rings. This is how they treated people in the death camps.’

  Denise stopped. ‘Marisa Cohen was found half-drowned.’

  Aaron stood up. ‘I have thought about that too,’ he said.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Whoever this is,’ said Aaron, ‘he may be copying Nazi experiments.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘They used Jewish prisoners to test how long soldiers could last with hypothermia. They put these poor people in iced baths and timed them until they died. They wrote the results down in charts, as if what they were doing was simply scientific.’

  Denise held his hand. ‘Your knowledge will help solve this, Aaron. We need to tell Harper. But, first, this letter. When did it arrive?’

  ‘This afternoon.’

  Denise picked up the letter and opened it. She read it once through. It was short and to the point. Her nerves crackled as she read.

  Report 1: March 8 Subject: Abigail Goldenberg Number: 144002 Initial weight: 120 lbs Initial blood pressure: 114/64 Week 1 weight 108 lbs Week 1 blood pressure 109/60

  Denise re-read the letter. ‘She’s losing weight.’

  ‘Maybe she’s refusing to eat. Maybe something else. I don’t know.’

  Denise suddenly understood. ‘You know what he’s doing, don’t you, Aaron?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ he said.

  ‘How do you know this is from the kidnapper?’

  He looked Denise straight in the eye. ‘It has a lock of her hair in the envelope.’

  ‘Is it hers? Can you be sure?’

  ‘It smells like her.’

  ‘We’ll get it tested.’ Denise stood up. ‘I’ve got to take this back, right away. Keep thinking, Aaron. I’ll be in touch.’

  Once outside the house, she called Harper. ‘Go ahead,’ said Harper. ‘Dr Goldenberg thinks the killer is copying Nazi atrocities and experiments. I’ll explain when I get back. There was something else.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Harper.

  ‘Tom, the killer wrote to Dr Goldenberg. I’m bringing the letter over.’