The camera panned, stopped and zoomed in on the several people sitting across the room at the makeshift bar. And finally Marty saw faces. He leaned forward and saw faces. The leather hoods had come off and people were sitting on wide wooden stools. The bartender wore a black rubber apron and nothing else. He swung his hips and cracked open beers. He laughed while he served them.
Marty was startled to find that he knew the man, had seen his face time and again on television and in the press. He was Jackie Diamond, the well-known, right-wing, bible-waving, oil-rich, big-nosed senator from Arkansas. He was worth millions, hundreds of millions, and here he was wearing black rubber and serving canned beer to a group of naked men and women probably just as wealthy and as powerful.
The camera panned up and Marty glimpsed the image of a bull painted money-green on the wall above the bar. He pushed pause and the image froze. The bull was enormous and towering. It leaned over Diamond’s shoulder with bulging eyes and flaring nostrils, as though it would tear him apart if given the chance. A gold hoop shot clean through its snout. The rack of spotlights nailed to the ceiling illuminated it in a half-moon. The head was an exact replica of the tattoo he’d seen on Wood.
Marty turned off the television, ejected the disc and put it back in the stack. His hands were trembling. He was beginning to see all of it now. This club wasn’t just New York, it was nationwide and he was right in the middle of it.
He and Maggie Cain.
The car alarm stopped. Marty checked his watch, went to the file cabinets and pulled open the drawers. Empty. He turned on the computer and looked for files. None. They had been purged, the hard disk cleared and reformatted, which wasn’t a problem because the information was still ghosted there, assuming the person didn’t fully wipe it.
He opened the desk drawer and found empty folders, pens, pencils, a stack of printing paper, the usual. But what, if anything, had been in those folders? And why leave behind the DVDs? He checked himself. Why leave behind every DVD save for the one marked November 2007? It was no coincidence the disc was missing—November 5, 2007 had been scrawled in blood above Wood’s bed. He knew what was on it—more of what he’d just seen on the July DVD. Whoever took it obviously was on it. They didn’t want to be seen.
Was it Maggie Cain? She’d just been here. But not long ago, so had the person who killed Schwartz. So who took it?
He checked his watch. Forty minutes had passed and still she wasn’t here, and yet she said she was only three blocks away. He couldn’t wait for her. He’d already been here too long. He turned off the lights, slipped through the small door that was in Schwartz’s closet and stood in his bedroom.
And when he did, he was forced to rear back.
Facing him were two people—a man and a woman.
Marty went for his gun but the woman moved forward with such speed, he couldn’t get to it in time. She wrenched his arm behind his back and the man came forward. He removed the gun from Marty’s holster, patted him down and nodded once at the woman, who released Marty and said, “We will kill you if you move.”
She had an accent. Spanish? He looked at the man. Italian? “Who are you?”
The man cocked his head. “Mr. Spellman, we’re the end of your life.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
8:37 p.m.
For Spocatti, Spellman was just the beginning of a long night.
He appraised the man standing in front of him and could sense him trying to calculate a way out of the situation. Spellman was solid and well-built, and Spocatti sensed he probably was quick on his feet. But right now, without his gun, he was powerless. “Sit over there.”
“Which chair?”
“The chintz,” Spocatti said. “You couldn’t pull off the Stickley.”
He watched Spellman cross to the chair and sit down.
“Before I kill you, you’re going to answer some questions.”
“Before you kill me, I’m answering nothing.”
“Not quite.” He looked at Carmen, who was standing beside him, her hands on her hips. “Make the call.”
She withdrew her cell and Spocatti watched Spellman lean forward as she dialed. She put the phone on speaker and they listened to the ring. And then Spellman’s daughter, Katie, answered the phone.
“Hello?”
Spocatti drew his gun, pointed it at Spellman’s head and put a finger to his lips. “Is this Katie?”
“Who’s this?”
“A friend of your father’s.”
“Which friend?”
“It’s Mark,” he said. “We met a year or so ago at your sister’s birthday party. I was wondering if I could speak to your mother?”
“She’s out.”
“Oh,” he said. “Do you know how long she’ll be?”
“She’s with the creep,” Katie said. “We were told ten. I’m betting midnight.”
“That’s several hours away,” he said, disappointed. “And my wife and I are about to leave the city. Here’s what’s up. Your father is on a case and he wanted me to get you something quickly. He said it was important. If we stop by on our way to the airport, would you mind ringing my wife up so she can give it to you?”
She hesitated. “I’m not allowed to do that.”
“Can you call your mother and ask?”
“My mother only wants to be reached if it’s an emergency.”
Spocatti was unfazed. “I see,” he said. “Well, this isn’t one.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
He locked eyes with Spellman. “Look,” he said. “I’m supposed to keep quiet about this, but time is running out and we need to catch our flight. Can you keep a secret?”
“I guess.”
“Our dog had puppies a few weeks ago and your dad bought one for you and your sister. He wanted to bring it by tonight, but he got hung up and so he asked us to do it instead. He knows we’re leaving town for a few weeks and he didn’t want you to wait.”
“Dad bought us a puppy?” The thrill in her voice was unmistakable.
“He did.”
“What kind?”
“I can’t give away everything,” he said with a laugh. “Do you mind if we drop by? You can see what it is then. I’ll be in the car, but Michelle, my wife, will run the dog up to you.”
The moment Katie agreed, Carmen snapped the cell phone shut. Spocatti ignored the tension on Spellman’s face and looked at Carmen. “You know the address. Go there and wait. I’ll call you if he doesn’t cooperate.”
“I’ll cooperate.”
They turned to Spellman.
“What do you want from me?”
“It’s simple,” Spocatti said. “We need Maggie Cain. We know she hired you. We know there’s an investigation. Tell us where she is.”
“I wish I knew.”
“Bad answer.”
“It’s the only answer I’ve got. I don’t know where she is.”
“Then call her and tell her to meet you here. Tell her what happened to Peter and that you need her here immediately. Tell her it’s critical.”
“Do you want to reach for my cell or do you want me to do it?”
Carmen walked over to him as he stood. She dipped her hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the phone, but not before copping a feel. She looked at Spocatti. “I know where to shoot him first. You can’t miss it.”
“Just hand him the phone, Carmen.”
She did.
“Is she at home or is she out?”
“I don’t know.”
“Call her at home first,” Spocatti said. “Put the phone on speaker. If she answers, do what I told you to do.”
They watched him dial. Outside, on the street, there was the faint sound of an ambulance.
The phone rang. Standing there, in the darkness, they listened to it while the ambulance’s lights started to illuminate the street. It was a ways off, but its siren was growing louder. Spocatti nodded at Carmen, who went to the windows across the room and looked out. She cran
ed her head into an awkward position and said, “I can’t see it.”
Maggie’s phone picked up. It was the answering machine. Her voice was barely audible above the ambulance’s alarm. “This is Maggie. Please leave a message.”
Spocatti reached over and snapped the phone shut. “Dial her cell.”
He looked over at Carmen and saw the ambulance’s sweeping red lights start to whip across her face. “What’s going on, Carmen?”
“I can see the lights, but I can’t see the ambulance.”
“Tell me when you can.”
“It’s the city, Vincent. Relax. People die.”
“You don’t say?”
The ambulance’s wail grew to a roar.
“I can see it now,” she said.
Spellman held out the phone as it started to ring.
“It’s not stopping here. It’s going too fast. It’s going to turn onto Fifth.”
And in that moment, just as the ambulance raced past the windows with its sirens screaming, Carmen Gragera crumbled in front of them and dropped to the ground.
* * *
For Marty, the next few moments came in waves.
From the doorway next to the windows, Maggie Cain rolled into the room, kicked the woman’s gun across the floor, lifted her own gun and started firing at the man named Vincent, but not before he dropkicked Marty and sent him flying over a chair. Marty went down with it, his cell slipped beneath him and he landed on top of it.
He was on his back.
He looked up to the sounds of muted gunfire and watched strobes of light reverberate off the walls. Maggie Cain was coming across the room, her gun poised in front of her, the determination on her face captured each time she fired.
With surprise on her side, she was shooting repeatedly at the man, but missing. He was taking his own shots at her, but missing. The room was too large and too dark to allow for accuracy, but with the chance for death so ripe, the space nevertheless was bright with fight.
Marty reached beneath him for the phone, tried to dial 911, couldn’t. He broke it when he fell.
There was another shot and this time the man reared back, the gun in his right hand now covering a wound on his left arm.
Maggie closed in. She fired again and this time a portion of the wall behind him exploded into bits of plaster. As a wavering white veil drifted up to consume him, the man stood at the center of it, his head turning to the door to his right.
Behind them came a groan.
The woman named Carmen was attempting to stand in front of the windows, but her balance was off. In the city light, Marty could see blood on her head, confusion in her eyes. She was clutching her side. Instinct lifted her up.
As she struggled to her feet, the man rushed out of the room, his hand over his arm, Maggie Cain racing after him, still shooting even as he ran down the hallway, took to the stairs and fled from the building.
Marty was about to run over to Carmen and tackle her for questioning when Maggie Cain rushed back into the room.
“Leave her,” she said. “This place is about to be filled with cops and I can’t be associated with any of it. I need you to move, Marty—now!”
* * *
Deep in shadow and halfway down the street, where he was concealed behind the back of a Mercedes SUV, Spocatti watched the front door of Peter Schwartz’s building open slowly before Spellman rushed out the building with Maggie Cain close behind him. He could see their guns in their hands. He knew they would shoot if provoked.
They came down the steps crouched low. When they hit the street, they intentionally slammed their backs against one of the cars parked curbside. The alarm went off, Spocatti looked up to see people coming to their windows or closing their curtains, and when he looked back, Spellman and Cain already were in flight and near the end of the block.
He watched them flag a cab, saw them snag one on their second try and then they were gone, fast into the night.
Spocatti wasted no time.
He ran across the street, entered Schwartz’s building, took the staircase to the second floor. He called out Carmen’s name and came face-to-face with her when he entered the room he’d left her in. When he saw her, she was standing with her back to the window, her gun raised and pointed at his face.
“Why did you leave me?”
He came toward her, knowing that time was running out and that they needed to leave. “I had no choice. She shot me. She ran after me shooting. I had to run or I would have been killed. You would have done the same thing.”
She looked at his arm, saw what must have been a flesh wound given the absence of significant blood, but nevertheless kept her gun as steady as she could on him.
“What did she do to you?” he asked.
“She threw a bronze bookend at me. It hit me in the kidney and I went down.”
He kept moving in her direction. “Why is there blood on your forehead?”
“I fell, Vincent. Guess what hit the floor first?”
“Put down the gun,” he said.
“I’d rather blow your fucking head off.”
“Just put down the gun.”
“I should take you out now for leaving me here.”
“I didn’t leave you. I came back for you. I can’t do this alone.”
“Bullshit.”
Maybe, he thought. But what he heard in her voice now wasn’t so much anger as it was ego, and that was enough for him. He kept moving toward her just as, in the distance, the faint wail of police sirens started to sound.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Those sirens are for us.” He reached out a hand and lowered the gun. “We have to trust each other. If we don’t have that, both of us will be dead.” He cupped the side of her face with his hand. “I didn’t have to come back. You saw what happened. I don’t know where she learned to shoot like that, but she’s no amateur. We can’t forget that.”
And with that, Carmen holstered her gun. “There are others on our list tonight,” she said. “We’ll chalk this up as a botched job and move forward.” She moved quickly past him. “Unless you want to get caught, I suggest we get out of here. I need to clean your arm and bandage it before we start again.”
They hurried out of the room, down the staircase and left the building. Outside, well down the street, a police car was speeding forward, its sirens mixing with the sound of the car alarm. Together, they moved to the end of the block, turned it and kept going at a steady pace.
“Who’s next?” she asked.
He told her.
“Good,” she said. “I need a little theater.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
9:14 p.m.
In the cab, Marty told the driver to take them to the Tarot Cafe on Prince. Then, he leaned back against the seat and was quiet while the driver shot down Fifth.
He needed to call four people, beginning with either Katie or Beth, but his phone was busted. He asked Maggie if he could use her cell, she gave it to him, he dialed and listened to the phone ring. Maggie looked out at the city, her gun in her lap, the side of her head against the window. He put his hand over hers and motioned for her to conceal the gun, which she did.
Beth answered on the third ring, music blasting in the background.
“Hello?”
“It’s Dad. Turn down the radio.”
“Radio? God, you’re old. It’s my iPod.”
“Whatever. Just turn it down. I need to talk to you.”
She turned off the music.
“Is your mother home yet?”
“She won’t be home until midnight. She said ten, but she always says ten. It’ll be midnight. And then they’ll be moaning and groaning all night long, as usual, which already wants to make me barf. Katie said something about a dog. Are we getting one?”
“Not tonight,” he said. “There was a mix-up, but that will be cleared up soon. I need you to listen to me.”
“You need me to listen to you after you deliver that shitty news?”
&nb
sp; “Beth,” he said. “This is important. It’s as important as anything I’ve ever said to you and I need you to do as I say and do it quickly.”
Maybe she sensed the urgency in his voice or maybe she was just playing nice so they’d get a dog, but there was a pause before she spoke again, and when she did, her tone was serious. “I’m listening.”
“Are the Moores home?”
“Of course, they’re home. They never go anywhere. I finished watching a movie with Andrea about an hour ago. Why?”
“I need you to take Katie and go down and stay with them. I need you to call your mother and say one word to her—blue. You don’t need to know what it means, but she will and that’s what matters. Call her now, get Katie, lock the apartment and go down to the Moores immediately. Say the same word to them. They’ll also know what it means and then I need you to listen to them and do as they say.”
“Are we in some sort of trouble?”
“Not if you do as I say.”
“Then, we are in trouble. Why are you scaring me? Why are you acting weird?”
“I’m not trying to scare you.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He couldn’t answer that without alarming her more than he had. And if he lied to her now, what good was he to her? “It’s complicated,” he said.
“It has to do with us,” Beth said. “That’s obvious. I think we have a right to know.”
She resembled her mother and also had inherited her mother’s tenacity. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his voice calm. “I really need you to cooperate with me right now, okay? Can you just do that for me? I need you out of the apartment in five minutes.”
There was a long hesitation before she agreed.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too, Dad.”
“And I’m sorry if I’ve scared you.”
The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set Page 62
