“What do you mean, suicide?” Ruby Sanchez screamed in her high squeal. “What kind of poison you had my man’s halfwit brother bringing up in here?”
“Watch your mouth, bitch,” Hector said.
No one else spoke. She knew there would be no answer forthcoming from the three fake Colombians in front of her. They had directed her and Rafe to one end of the big living room while they stood with Hector a dozen feet away. One man held his Glock pointed at Rafe, while another aimed at Ruby’s stomach. Did that mean they recognized her as the greater danger? No, more likely they thought that anger might drive Rafe to risk his own life, but that he would not do anything that might get her shot.
Her shouted question had not been meant for them, but for their leader who had left the room. But since it seemed there would be no answer from that direction, she turned to Hector instead.
“These guys are friends of yours?”
Hector snarled at her and stomped out of the room. Rafe looked like a man in shock. Or maybe he looked like a man who knew he might die soon. She understood the feeling. The score stood three guns to nothing and they were not about to let her out of their sight so she could find anything that might serve as a weapon. The carpet was warm and soft beneath her bare feet, but it did not stop the chill rolling down her spine.
When Hector returned, he was trailing de La Fuente, who carried a small case about the size of the first aid kit in Ruby’s glove compartment. He continued to smile, in contrast to the grim look on the faces of his followers. It sure felt like he wanted to talk. Maybe she needed to change the question.
“So, where’d you get the guns?” Ruby asked in a calmer voice. “You sure as hell didn’t bring them into the country with you. Even a Glock has too much steel in the barrel to get past the metal detectors.”
de La Fuente dropped the little case on the coffee table. “Oh, no, I would never try to travel with a firearm. Luckily, Hector is a good host. These were given to us by some friends of mine he has been in contact with, friends who were already here in the United States. They arrived not long after you two went to bed. I didn’t see any reason to disturb you.”
“Uh-huh. And where are these friends now?”
“Oh, they stayed outside,” de La Fuente said, opening the case. From it he drew a small syringe and a medicine bottle. “I thought it wise, just in case you decided to try to leave the house with any of our secrets.”
“Gee, how many friends do you have around here?” Ruby asked.
“Enough,” was all de La Fuente would tell her. He drove the needle into the top of the bottle and tipped it to fill the body of the needle. “Now Rafael, I need you to come over here.”
“Not until you tell me what this is all about, and what that stuff was I stuck in my mouth.”
“Suit yourself,” de La Fuente said. “Up to this point, your little brother here has been accepting, and shipping, parcels of the cocaine that fuels our movement and funds our activities. We had to be sure you had a workable distribution system before sending our real cargo.”
“Which is?” Ruby asked.
de La Fuente laughed even as his three gunmen remained silent. “You are persistently curious, my girl. You know what that did for the cat, don’t you? But since Hector has asked that we keep Rafael with us for a while I will tell you that the powder in the bags downstairs contains a dense population of weaponized anthrax spores. The trick, you see, is to get them to be negatively charged so that they will float on the air as they do, instead of sitting like an inert clump.”
“Wait a minute. Rafe’s going to have anthrax? People die from that shit!” Ruby’s fingers formed claws and if not for the gunmen it was obvious that she would have tried to take de La Fuente’s eyes out.
“You needn’t be so concerned,” de La Fuente said. “His total exposure was not that great. A course of antibiotics will be enough to help his body resist the disease. Which is why he needs this shot right away.”
Ruby swallowed her anger, turned to Rafe and snapped her head toward de La Fuente. After a moment of reluctance he leaned forward to kiss Ruby quickly and walked to the other side of the room.
“So what’s the plan?” Ruby asked. “You going to mail a bunch of letters to politicians again? Or, wait, you’re against capitalism so maybe just to the rich oil barons? Hell, I might help with that plan.”
“Oh, I think we can be more sophisticated than those religious fanatics,” de La Fuente said while swabbing Rafe’s arm with alcohol. “You see, Hector and his connections have already established our delivery system.”
It came to Ruby in a wave of shock and grudging respect. “The cocaine. Only people with money snort coke in this country. Poor people smoke crack.”
“Very good,” de La Fuente said. “We will simply substitute this powder for the inert materials the dealers usually cut their cocaine with. Each customer will draw our spores deeply into their own lungs. The victims will target themselves.”
“And it might be weeks before enough of them admit to drug use for anyone to pick up the pattern of transmission,” Ruby said.
Ruby was sick with self-hate, for letting these fools take her phone. She should have told Gorman to bring the cavalry the last time she spoke to him. She knew she was facing the Shining Path. Why did she think she could handle this alone? The only bit of gratification she could feel was the reaction on the faces of the Sandoval boys. Rafael looked sickened by what the visitors planned, and Hector could not hide his surprise. He really hadn’t signed on for this kind of action.
Through the window Ruby watched the tail end of morning traffic in motion and heard the cars easing past at safe suburban speeds. She saw a couple of school children hurry past, bundled against the weather. Then the heater fired again under her feet and that chill returned to her spine.
“Wait a minute,” Ruby called as de La Fuente slid the syringe into Rafe’s arm. “That stuff’s been in the heater duct, and I poked a hole in it yesterday morning to get a sample. That stuff’s been blowing all over the house. I think we all need a shot.”
“Not really.” de La Fuente put his needle and kit away. “The rest of us are vaccinated against the disease.”
Rafe’s hand hit de La Fuente’s chest like a loud pistol shot before his fist curled into the taller man’s shirt and he pulled him down so they were eye to eye. “Then Ruby needs the same shot, and she needs it right now.”
“No!” Ruby shouted, paralyzed with fear as the gunman following Rafe raised his pistol. But de La Fuente held up a palm before the gunman could fire. Then he locked eyes with Rafe and again flashed his gold tooth.
“Your concern is touching, Rafael,” de La Fuente said, grasping Rafe’s arm. “However, you needn’t worry. If she gets the right antibiotics within two or three days of her exposure, she should be fine. I assure you that as long as you do as I ask for just one more day, she will receive what she needs. Until then, she is my insurance that you will remain compliant.”
Rafe slowly released his grip. “You saying that tomorrow you’ll be gone from here?”
“Rafael, by tomorrow this time my friends and I, and our precious cargo, will be out of your life.”
Yes, Ruby thought, and enough anthrax spores to kill hundreds will be gone and untraceable somewhere in the United States.
Chapter Twenty
Midtown at midday was a grid pattern moving in lockstep. Traffic flowed up and down Manhattan like blood in the human body, either flowing through the northbound veins, or the southbound arteries, or occasionally branching off into one of the smaller capillary streets that fed the body of the city. Double-parked delivery trucks were the plaque clinging to the sides of these major arteries, slowing the flow enough to cause pain, but not enough to kill the city.
Assistant District Attorney Preston drove one of the cars in that grid flowing north toward the Bronx. This morning he would meet with a very frightened young woman. She would give him certain information implicating a respected bu
sinessman in certain racketeering activity. They would have lunch together in a very public place. He would put her at ease and the information she would give him would make his career. ADA Preston was on his way to a meeting with destiny.
Three vehicles behind, ADA Preston’s destiny was closing in on him, riding in a 1994 navy blue, four-door, Lincoln Continental. Robbie wrestled the big blue beast through traffic. Behind him, Gunny Roberts hung his elbow out the open window fighting for air in the stuffy confines of the car. Gus sat stoically beside him, unmoving between Gunny and the even bigger Mike. Up front in the passenger’s seat, Lorenzo Lucania sat in silence, considering the rest of his life.
“So, you done this before?” Gunny asked.
“Oh, sure,” Robbie said from the front. “We follow the guy just to make sure he’s going where his schedule said he was. We’ll find a nice quiet place to sit while he does his business, and then it goes down just like we talked about.”
“Not what I meant, Robbie,” Gunny said.
Lucania turned to face Gunny. “I knew what you meant.”
“Don’t sweat it, Lorenzo,” Mike said, giving his boss’ shoulder and affectionate punch. “It ain’t nothing, you know. And you made the right choice, stepping up like that. If you really want to be a leader, you can’t send guys to do stuff you ain’t never done yourself.”
“I wasn’t being negative, man,” Gunny hastened to say. “Just wanted to know that you know what you’re doing.”
“That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about, Gunny,” Lucania said. “I know very well what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, he knows,” Mike said, leaning forward to see Gunny past Gus. “The question is, do you know what you’re doing?”
“Don’t sweat me, Mike,” Gunny said. “I can keep the lane clear. If everybody does their part, all the boss has to do is make the touch.”
Gunny sat back and thought the whole ugly plan through. As much as he hated to think it, Lucania had assembled a good team. They would enjoy lunch, sitting at three separate tables. Mike would target the bartender and bouncer if the place had such people, and mark their positions. Robbie would leave first, returning to the car. They would wait out the ADA’s lunch with his contact, because he would be most relaxed when his business was finished. At Lucania’s signal, Mike would move to intercept the most likely troublemakers.
Gunny’s job was to keep the lane clear, meaning he would walk the path toward the mark in front of Lucania, blocking any obstacles. He would walk past the mark’s chair. Lucania, according to the plan, would walk up, draw his little thirty-eight millimeter Smith and Wesson revolver, and push a bullet into Assistant District Attorney Preston’s brain. He would cover Preston’s unknown lunch guest with the man’s brains and turn toward the street. Gunny would again precede him, keeping his path clear to the car. They would drive three blocks before abandoning the car for the subway. Shock would keep anyone from recognizing the shooter and it was likely to flow very smoothly.
And Gus? If all went according to plan, Gus had no job. Gus was the backup shooter. If Lucania’s weapon malfunctioned, or if for some reason he lost his nerve, it was Gus’ job to make the hit from across the room. Gunny had no doubts that he would do the deed if things went that way. So even if Lucania chose the right path and Gunny were somehow able to save his soul, saving the unsuspecting ADA seemed beyond Gunny’s reach.
Chastity Chiba was not surprised to find Francine Brooks’ red Aerostar minivan parked less than a block from Marty’s dealership. She was a little surprised to find no sign of her on the lot, although she did see Marty walking a young couple around and through the collection of cars. When Francine didn’t show up at the health club Chastity figured that she might be planning to grab lunch with her boyfriend, and maybe a nooner quickie. She was certainly the type.
Marty’s customers were both young and looked well off. The rock on the girl’s hand was a full carat and the man wore his camel coat with the calm indifference of familiarity. Marty was walking them around a Lincoln Towne Car. Perhaps he smelled a big score and had sent Francine away so he could ink the deal before he had her for dessert. In that case, she would be pouting nearby.
Chastity slid out of her car and stowed her field glasses in her bag, which was larger than usual for her, almost portfolio size. She strolled slowly down the noisy, dirty downtown street. The sun had barged through a dense cloud cover and was busy setting off sparklers at the edges of every stone building and around the skin of all the well-polished automobiles.
Snack bars, delis and taverns crowded onto these streets, all fronted with broad glass sheets that exchanged sunbeams in such a way that one could believe that the city’s businesses generated the light flooding the streets, instead of taking it from the sun above.
Looking in every window brought a smile to Chastity’s polished ivory face. She loved this city in ways and for reasons that were hard to fathom. When she thought about it at all she figured it was really because of her love for the bustling atmosphere of Tokyo. If you stood in the right place and squinted just a little, it was hard to tell Tokyo from New York.
Chastity had chosen a fawn pantsuit and moderate heels for today’s anticipated meeting with Francine Brooks. It was businesslike but not intimidating. It would be a negotiation if all went well, and Chastity could defuse the situation in the Brooks household long enough to get them into therapy. Whether or not the marriage lasted, Alex Brooks could be pulled back from the brink, personally and professionally, and their daughter Amy could be spared the torture of being forced to lie on the stand.
As Chastity passed a small snack bar, a smile curled her lips on one side. Beyond the front window, Francine sat in a booth sipping coffee and biting into a danish. She faced away from the street, but exasperation showed in her posture and the aggressive way that she bit into her pastry. If she was unhappy with Marty this morning, maybe Chastity’s job would be easier.
Francine must have been there a while to have secured a booth by herself. The early lunch crowd was just rolling in, and Chastity flowed in with it. The smell of frying bacon and ham made her feel greasy. The atmosphere was thick with a buzz of low conversation and the clattering of cheap china. Francine jumped in her seat when Chastity slipped into the booth facing her and rested her hands, one atop the other, on the Formica surface.
“Good morning, Francine,” Chastity said in a soft, friendly voice. “We missed you at the club this morning.”
Francine was transparent. Her eyes darted in every direction and she spilled a bit of coffee into her saucer trying to put her coffee down. When her gaze finally came back around to Chastity her eyebrows still had not come down from her brow line.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to talk to you, sweetie,” Chastity said, maintaining her smile. A waitress approached, but Chastity waved her away. “I thought we could talk about things, girlfriend. After all, I know what you’re doing here.”
“You found out, didn’t you? About Marty. Well, you know how unhappy my marriage is.”
“Francine, I don’t care who you’re shagging,” Chastity said, sliding a small folder out of her bag. “I like a lot of variety myself, to tell you the truth. It’s the girl I’m concerned about. It’s what you’re doing to Amy.”
“Amy?” Francine had to be a bit louder as the general babble in the room increased. “What are you talking about? I’m doing this to protect Amy, to provide for her.”
Chastity stopped her with an upraised palm and the simple phrase, “I know.”
Again Francine’s eyes strayed left and right. “What do you mean?”
Chastity flipped her folder open, revealing photocopies of Dr. Benson’s patient records. The page in question showed him rehearsing certain statements with Amy. Chastity’s smile dropped. “I know. And you disgust me.”
Across the table, Chastity could feel Francine’s pulse quicken and could see her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Now, Chastit
y thought, now we will see what kind of predator this woman is.
Francine took three or four deep breaths with her mouth clamped shut before speaking. Now her voice was lower and harder. “You can’t have those. That’s confidential.”
“Ah, but I do have them.” Chastity’s smile became a smirk. “And if you go to court, Alex’s lawyer will have them too. He could also have these.” Chastity flipped a page, revealing a black and white glossy shot of Francine staring straight at the camera while Marty pressed into her from behind.
“Oh my God,” Francine chirped, leaping backward in her seat. A hand went over her mouth.
Chastity sat back and crossed her arms. “The purpose of this exercise has not been to hurt you, although the thought does have its attractions. The object here is to protect a child from emotional damage and shield a good policeman from unnecessary abuse that would surely crush his career. So I have a proposition for you.”
Francine looked down at the picture until Chastity closed the folder. Then Francine looked up with her eyes only, not moving her head.
“I trusted you.”
That was a surprise. “Your husband trusted you, Francine. All I’m asking you to do is to back off this crazy plan to use falsified evidence and testimony to press an unfair divorce.”
“I trusted you,” Francine repeated, showing her teeth, “and you betrayed me.”
Chastity’s brows knit together in confusion. This isn’t the way to behave when you’ve been found out. Francine should accept that she’s been beaten. This is when you negotiate terms.
“You guys need some family therapy,” Chastity said. “If it doesn’t work out, then you split, but you can keep it civilized.”
Beyond Blue Page 18
