“As a matter of fact I do.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I was in bed.”
“Can anyone corroborate that?”
Coker looked past her at Alice.
“Take a walk,” Maria said.
Coker raised his eyebrows and Alice nodded.
Coker studied Maria, then turned back to the elevator and pressed the button. The door opened right away, and as Maria strode toward Alice it closed again.
“Don’t you ever give up?” Alice said. “I thought I’d seen the last of you.”
“Consorting with known criminals could be considered endangering the welfare of a minor.”
“Why does he have to be a ‘known criminal’? Because he’s black?”
“I’ll let his record speak when I check it out. I see you’ve moved up in the world.”
“What do you care?”
“This building’s board must not mind where their tenants get their income.”
Alice’s face tightened. “I’m the steward of my niece’s inheritance from my brother. I can spend it however I like if it’s in her interest.”
“Is that bling you’re wearing in her interest?”
“Somebody has to set an example for the child.”
“What kind of an example do you think you set for that little girl?” She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them.
“Careful, Detective. I might have to file a harassment complaint against you.”
Maria stopped two feet from the woman. “I’m not here to harass you, just to warn you.”
“About what?” Alice almost sneered as she enunciated each word.
“Someone popped two of Raheem’s hoppers this morning.”
“So? What’s that got to do with me?”
Maria knew her smile didn’t show much amusement. “Raheem’s going to come after whoever made that move, and he’s going to come hard.”
“That’s none of my concern.”
Maria moved closer. “Word on the street is that you’ve picked up where Joe left off, and you’re making moves to take over Lower Manhattan’s trade.”
“Then the street talks too much.”
Maria put her left hand on the doorframe. “You might think you’re safe from your enemies in this pricey condo, but you’re not, and neither is Shana.”
Alice stood still, showing no fear in reaction to Maria crowding her. “That little girl is safer with me than anywhere on earth.”
“No, she isn’t. She’s in more danger here than anywhere else. You should just let her go.”
“Go where? With who? You?”
Maria hesitated.
“I didn’t think so. You said your piece. Now you take a walk.” Alice entered her apartment.
Maria dropped her arm so the woman could close the door. Staring at the peephole for a moment, Maria bowed her head, drew her breath, and walked away.
Jake double-parked in front of his building and glimpsed Ripper standing inside the lobby. With the Maxima’s air conditioner humming, he unlocked the doors and lowered his window as the Korean exited the building.
“Throw that in the backseat,” he said.
Ripper opened the door and tossed the ATAC 3000 case on the backseat. Then he closed the door and got in beside Jake, who merged into traffic.
“What’s the score?” Ripper said.
“Hopefully a damsel in distress.”
“Your lady?”
“No.”
Ripper stared at him. “I want to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“We’re going to a mansion in Eastchester. A friend of mine is missing, and I think she’s being kept there. I’m going to go in and find out; you’re going to sit in the car and wait for me to come back.” He nodded at the box. “You’re going to watch me through the scope on that gun. If you see anything I need to worry about, warn me. If it’s more serious than that, shoot. When I come out, be ready to take the wheel.”
“What makes you think this friend is inside the mansion?”
“A feeling in my gut says so.”
Ripper snorted. “I can’t get caught holding any gun.”
Jake knew Ripper had served time for burglary. “Then you’d better keep your eyes open.”
Maria saw Bernie still sitting at his desk when she reentered the squad room. She sat at her desk. “Let’s run a check on one John Coker.”
“What did he do?”
She booted her computer. “He looked at me the wrong way.”
“Where did he commit this serious offense?”
“In the corridor of Alice Morton’s building.”
“Don’t tell me you went back there.”
Maria entered Coker’s name into the system. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Oy vey, why?”
“Because I don’t want Raheem killing Shana when he goes after Alice.”
“And here I thought you left to meet with Geoghegan.”
“There was that, too.”
“Was it over Edgar?”
“Nominally.”
“Helman.”
She didn’t say anything.
“We can’t all be wrong.”
“Bingo.”
“Huh?”
“John Coker, aka Ramses, has had his fair share of drug arrests, and Narcotics has linked him to Alice. He might even be her second in command.”
“Really? Ramses?”
“Go figure. I guarantee he’s sticking it to Alice.”
“What if he is? That’s got nothing to do with our investigation unless you think he was the triggerman this morning.”
Maria bit her lower lip.
“Unless, of course, this has nothing to do with our investigation. Why would it? You just got back from one personal mission. Now you want to start another?”
“I know you’re right but this is who I am. I’ll try not to cross my wires, but that’s difficult in this case. Everything ties back to Big Alice.”
Bernie stuck a stick of Wrigley’s gum into his mouth. “I got your back, partner. I just want to make sure I know your agenda—and that you know it.”
“I appreciate that.”
“At least this time I don’t have to worry about you tagging along with Helman.” His eyes widened. “He’s not involved in this, is he?”
Maria chuckled. “No, he has no idea what I’m up to, and I have no idea what he’s doing.”
11
Driving along a tree-lined road in a wooded stretch half an hour outside the city, Jake slowed down when the female voice of his GPS told him they were approaching their destination.
A high stone wall came into view, followed by metal gates that closed off a long driveway. Jake glimpsed the guardhouse one hundred yards away. Careful not to stare, Jake returned his attention to the road. A quarter mile later, he made a U-turn and pulled into a space behind some trees and bushes. The woods formed a sideways horseshoe around the Maxima.
“I bet cops use this spot to catch speeders,” Ripper said.
“No doubt,” Jake said.
“Then maybe it isn’t the best place to park. They could roll up on us without even meaning to.”
Jake lowered his window. “There’s a white plastic bag in the glove compartment. Do you mind giving it to me?”
Ripper removed the white bag and handed it to Jake, who closed the window over it so it dangled outside like a call for roadside assistance.
“You really think that will work?” Ripper sounded
unconvinced.
“There’s a chance.” Jake lowered the other windows an inch, then turned off the engine and gave the car keys to Ripper. “Don’t lose these, and plan on being the one to drive us back.”
Jake opened his door and got out, taking his duffel bag with him. “I’m going to change.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ripper said.
Jake went into the woods and changed into his green nylon running suit, which took longer than he had anticipated. He
put on the shoulder holster with the Thunder Ranch snug inside it and took out an olive-green backpack stuffed with goodies. Then he attached a headset to the walkie-talkie on his hip and secured the earpiece to his right ear.
When he returned to the car, he opened the door and tossed the duffel bag into the backseat. Then he stuck his right foot, clad in a leather combat boot, on his seat. “Tie my shoelaces, will you?”
Ripper frowned but tied the lace on the combat boot. Jake removed his boot and set his left foot on the seat. Ripper tied that one as well.
Jake handed him the other walkie-talkie. “Switch to channel three and get that case out of the backseat.”
Ripper adjusted the walkie-talkie, got out, and removed the case.
“Open it.”
Ripper opened the hard plastic case and took out the ATAC 3000. Jake could tell by the way the younger man held the weapon that he knew what he was doing.
Ripper snapped the super machine gun’s stock to his shoulder and peered through the scope, holding the gun ready to fire. Lowering the gun, he held it sideways and studied its features. “This is some serious shit.”
“You’re a one-man army.”
“Why are you trusting me with this? I have your car keys, too. What makes you think that when you get inside that mansion I won’t just take off? I could sell this artillery for a small fortune.”
“I don’t trust you. But I do trust Carrie and she trusts you.”
“I got your back.” Ripper slung the weapon over his shoulder, tossed the case into the backseat, and used the remote control on the car keys to lock the doors.
Jake spoke into the headset. “Walkie check.”
Ripper pressed his thumb against the control for the walkie-talkie. “Good check.”
“Then let’s go.”
They set off through the woods.
“Did you case this joint?” Ripper said.
“No time.”
“Floor plans?”
Jake shook his head.
“Inside information?”
“We’re going in cold.”
“Then why do this now? Why not wait and do it right?”
“That isn’t an option. The woman who owns this mansion is at an event in Manhattan right now. I need to get inside and find my friend before the woman leaves that event, which should be in the next hour.”
Ripper scrunched up his eyebrows. “Does this woman have a name?”
“You’re better off not knowing.”
“Why, so I have plausible deniability? I’m an ex-con. There’s no such thing. You’ve got me holding a gun, which could land my ass in jail.”
Jake sighed. “The woman who owns this estate is Lilian Kane. Ever heard of her?”
Ripper shook his head.
“She’s a big romance novelist and publisher.”
“What does she want with your friend?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.”
“How do you know she has her?”
“When you’re a cop you develop a sixth sense about bad guys.”
“Did your spider sense go off when you met me?”
Jake glanced at his companion. “You bet your ass.”
Ripper shrugged. “Then maybe there’s something to this after all.”
Reaching the edge of the woods, they crouched behind bushes overlooking a deep green yard spotted with floral gardens, which Jake recognized from the photos he had seen online. The breeze whispering across his face carried their sweet fragrance.
Two hundred yards away a white mansion with three floors and columns gleamed in the sunlight. Columns in the front and back supported roofs. The windows were tall and narrow and reflected the sun. French doors on the side faced a wide patio that wrapped around to the rear of the mansion, which overlooked the valley below.
Ripper whistled. “You sure Julius Caesar doesn’t live here?”
“I’ll let you know when I come out.”
“So many flowers . . .”
“They’ll provide me with cover. I don’t usually do this sort of thing in broad daylight.”
“Neither do I.”
Jake nodded to the front. “The guardhouse should be about two hundred yards that way. One guard, maybe two. If I come out and I’m not alone and any guards come running, shoot them in the legs.”
“What if police come?”
“Stash the gun somewhere we can find it later.”
Ripper unslung the ATAC, raised it to his shoulder, and peered through its scope.
Locating the zoom control, he pressed it. “I don’t see any alarm stickers on the side door or windows.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Someone’s moving around in there . . . looks like a maid. She’s fine, too.”
Jake wasn’t surprised that such a large dwelling required staff, and he told himself there might be more than one person inside.
“I count three cameras, which means there’s probably more.”
“Call me the Invisible Man.” Jake checked his watch. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Ripper sat at the base of a tree with the gun ready.
Jake pulled a lightweight green ski mask over his head with a single space for both eyes and a hole for his mouth, then a single green latex glove.
Jake circled the bushes to a clearing and glanced in the direction of the guardhouse. He got down on his hand and knees and lowered himself to the bright green grass and crawled toward the house. He moved with deliberation, sliding one limb through the grass at a time, squeezing the ground with his hand and pushing against the dirt with his boots. Sweat formed on his forehead, but the cotton mask absorbed it.
Fifty yards to the first flower garden . . .
He found the approach almost relaxing. The ground beneath the manicured lawn felt smooth, devoid of bumps and rocks.
Ripper’s voice came over the speaker in his ear: “I can hardly see you.”
Jake reached the garden and crawled inside it so he could not be seen by the cameras on either side of the great lawn. Water frothed from a stone fountain in the garden’s center. He moved along the shadow of the shrubs for another fifty yards. The sweet smell of so many flowers sickened him somewhat, and he swatted buzzing bees from his face.
When he reached the edge of the garden, he gazed at another one spaced an even fifty yards away. He took a breath and resumed crawling. Halfway to the second garden an airplane droned overhead. Within the second garden, he passed an eight-foot statue of a nude goddess who gazed down at him with blank eyes, her arms spread wide, marble skin gleaming in the sunlight. The tips of her sculpted feathered wings pointed at the earth.
Fifty yards ahead lay the last obstacle before the mansion: a polished stone bench facing a concrete fire pit, with tall, sculpted ferns on either side of it.
Jake spoke into the headset. “Do you see that maid?”
“A few minutes ago she moved into what looks like a living room at the front of the house, facing the driveway,” Ripper said.
Jake scanned the windows, which reflected the blue sky. He crawled the fifty yards to the bench, where he rested in the shade, and stared at long marks that started on the concrete and disappeared into the fire pit. They looked like they had been clawed by human fingers. He wanted to investigate the pit, but he knew his outfit would stand out against the hot concrete.
“The maid just went upstairs,” Ripper said.
Jake resisted the urge to stand and run the final fifty yards to the house, so he settled for crawling faster. When he reached a patio surrounded by shrubs, he leapt onto the pink rock surface and sprinted past ornate metal furniture to the French doors at the side of the house.
Feeling better as soon as shade enveloped him, he gripped one of the gold handles and jerked it, but the door was locked. He drew the hunting knife from a sheath on his boot, forced the blade into the space separating the doors, and pulled it up with so much force that the door unlocked. He pushed it open with his
stump before the lock could slip back into place.
Stepping inside with the knife still clutched in his hand, Jake used the blade to pull the door closed by its handle. He gazed at the interior: gleaming marble floors, black and white Italian furniture, and ceilings fifteen feet high. The room was thirty feet deep, and he saw no motion detectors or other sensors.
Five life-sized oil paintings with gold frames covered one wall: a woman with short curly hair; a blonde bombshell, her dress blowing up around her thighs; a rock star performing at Woodstock; an opera singer performing Aida in a red and gold opera house; and Lilian Kane reading one of her books to a circle of women gathered in a floral garden outside. Jake wondered if the mansion was large enough to accommodate Lilian’s ego.
Moving toward the back of the house, Jake passed through a threshold with hand-carved wood and entered another large room filled with six pianos, a harp, and padded chairs and sofas embroidered with golden trim.
As he crossed the hardwood floor, he glimpsed a library on his left: floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with hardcover books accessed by a long wooden ladder on a track. He crept to the threshold and peeked inside. Bookcases lined every available inch of wall space in the deep room, with six two-sided bookcases rising from the middle of the floor, creating aisles.
A noise behind him caused him to jerk his head back to the piano room.
Footsteps?
His gaze darted from one side of the room to the other, then turned to the ceiling. He heard the sound again, and a shadow glided across the floor. Jake snapped his head in that direction but saw nothing. Beneath his ski mask, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Moving away from the library with slow caution, he scanned the room. Out of the corner of his one eye, he glimpsed another shadow darting from view.
With his heart beating faster he crept into the middle of the room, where he could also see the kitchen in the opposite direction. In the gallery, forty feet away, a dark shape padded across the floor and blinked at him with green eyes: a black cat. Jake swallowed, and the cat took off like a shot.
Exhaling, he turned and entered the oversize country kitchen, which could have served a restaurant. Jake circled the room, taking in a breakfast nook, a long island, two dishwashers with German labels, a commercial oven, and a wooden table surrounded by eight chairs. Glancing through an archway to another room, he counted twelve plush chairs around an oval table carved of dark wood. Everywhere he looked he saw wooden fixtures and carvings of leaves or tree branches. Potted plants hung from the ceilings like lights, casting shadows of foliage on the walls.
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