New York Night

by Stephen Leather

  ‘No,’ said Nightingale. ‘To be honest with you, we don’t have her number.’

  ‘Her phone has been off for a few days now,’ said Makayla. She pulled an iPhone from the back of her jeans and tapped out a number. She held it to her ear and shook her head. ‘Straight through to voicemail,’ she said.

  ‘Can you let us have her number and we’ll keep trying?’ asked Perez.

  ‘Sure.’ Makayla held out her phone and Perez tapped the number into her own cellphone. ‘She did tell me about one guy she’d met,’ said Makayla. ‘Didn’t tell me his name but she said she’d seen him a few times. His sister had died and the guy was distraught. Kept talking about killing himself. I said she should have passed him on to the Samaritans because the StressLine people aren’t trained for suicides but she said she was sure he didn’t mean it.’

  Nightingale looked over at Perez and realised that the same thought had struck them both. Leon Budd’s sister had died recently.

  ‘Can you remember anything else she said about this guy?’ asked Nightingale.

  ‘Not really. Just that he was really sad and she wanted to help him. She was always doing that, helping waifs and strays.’

  ‘When was this? When did she mention this guy?’

  Makayla rubbed her neck as she thought about it. ‘Three weeks ago. Maybe four.’ She nodded. ‘Last month.’

  CHAPTER 26

  Andy Horowitz parked behind an ambulance and climbed out. Across the road were two black SWAT vans next to which were lined up a dozen beefy men all dressed in black and carrying an assortment of weaponry with a preponderance of AR-15 assault rifles and Mossberg 590 shotguns.

  A sergeant jogged over, cradling his AR-15. ‘You Horowitz?’

  Horowitz nodded. ‘Thanks for waiting. Can you give me a sitrep?’ He walked around to the rear of his car, opened his boot and took off his coat.

  ‘Perp’s in a hotel around the corner. Fifth floor at the back. Booked in this afternoon, hasn’t been out of the room.’

  ‘It’s definitely Donaldson?’

  ‘We’ve had a plainclothes guy in there to show the desk guy a photograph and he’s sure. He used a credit card belonging to his father to check in.’

  ‘Careless,’ said Horowitz. He tossed his coat into the boot and took out a bulletproof vest with POLICE across the front. He put it on and pulled the Velcro straps tight, then took his gun from its holster, checked the actions and put it back.

  ‘He’s a kid,’ said the sergeant. ‘It was the desk clerk who dropped the dime and he said the boy had nothing with him when he checked in.’

  ‘So far as we know he doesn’t have a gun,’ said Horowitz, slamming the boot shut. ‘There wasn’t one in the house and the killings have all been with knives or things he’s grabbed opportunistically.’

  ‘Understood, but we’re not taking any chances.’

  ‘I hear you, I’m just saying that Tasers might be all the fire power you need.’

  ‘We’re the professionals here, just let us do our job,’ said the sergeant. ‘Happy for you to ride along but you need to hold back and leave the tactics to us.’

  Horowitz held up his hands. ‘Wasn’t trying to teach anyone’s grandmother to suck eggs, sergeant. And I certainly wasn’t trying to minimise the seriousness of this guy. I’ve seen both crime scenes so I know the damage he can do with a knife or with anything he can grab.’

  The sergeant smiled thinly. ‘Good to see we’re on the same page.’

  ‘So what’s your plan?’

  ‘It’s a cheap hotel, nothing fancy. One way in, one staircase up and one elevator. There’s a fire escape running down the back of the building, accessed from the rear window. We’ll take four men up the staircase and two in the elevator. Four will go around the back just in case he heads out of the window. We don’t think we can get up the fire escape without making a noise so our guys will maintain surveillance on the ground. I’ll leave two at the entrance. Your call where you want to go.’

  ‘I’ll stick with you, sergeant, if that’s okay.’

  The sergeant nodded briskly. ‘Not a problem. Just stay behind us and keep your weapon holstered.’ He jogged back to the vans and Horowitz hurried after him. He gave his orders in clipped tones then headed towards the entrance, cradling his assault rifle. Seven of his team followed him while four split off and went down a side alley.

  Horowitz fell into step next to the sergeant. ‘So this guy murdered his folks?’ asked the sergeant.

  ‘Looked like a frenzy killing.’

  ‘Drugs?’

  ‘No evidence of a drug problem, but these days, who knows? No drugs in the house and his bedroom looked like the bedroom of a regular High School kid.’

  They reached the entrance to the hotel, a single door with a neon sign above it that said VACANCY. To the left was a bellpush with a plastic sign that said ‘RING AFTER 10PM’.

  The sergeant led the way into a cramped reception area. The Asian hotel clerk sat in a metal cage and he looked up with bored disinterest as the armed cops filed in. ‘He’s still in his room,’ he said. ‘When do I get paid?’

  ‘Soon,’ said the sergeant.

  The clerk handed the sergeant a key card. The sergeant took it, pointed at a narrow stairway and four of his men headed up. Horowitz followed the sergeant into the elevator. Another armed cop joined them. Horowitz pressed the button for the third floor and the door closed. They rode up in silence.

  The elevator opened onto a hallway that was as shabby as the reception downstairs. There was a sign on the wall opposite them showing the room numbers to the left and right. The sergeant pointed to the right. The four men who had come up the stairs joined them. Horowitz held back as the SWAT team moved towards the door.

  The sergeant carefully slid the keycard into the lock but a red light flashed. He tried it again. Another red light. He put the card into a pocket on his overalls and stepped to the side.

  A black officer with a shotgun rapped on the door with a gloved hand. ‘Police!’ he shouted. ‘Open the door!’

  There was no answer from inside.

  ‘Break it down,’ said the sergeant.

  CHAPTER 27

  Nightingale was cleaning his teeth when his cellphone rang. It was Perez. ‘Where are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Office,’ he said. ‘Getting ready for bed.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up outside in five minutes,’ said Perez.

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘Matt Donaldson.’ She ended the call.

  Nightingale pulled his clothes back on, grabbed his coat and hurried down the stairs. He was halfway through a cigarette when Perez pulled up in front of the block. He dropped what was left of his cigarette in the gutter and climbed into the passenger seat. He had barely closed the door before she sped off down the street. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Andy’s in hospital. Something to do with the Donaldson kid.’

  ‘Andy’s in hospital or the kid’s in hospital?’

  ‘Would I be driving like this if it was the perp?’ snapped Perez.

  Nightingale decided that his best option was to stay quiet so he said nothing as she zig-zagged through the traffic, pounding her horn impatiently.

  She drove to Bellevue Hospital close to the East River and parked in a multi-storey. Nightingale had trouble keeping up with her as she hurried across the road to the main entrance.

  ‘He’s on the third floor so don’t give me any crap about elevators,’ she said as she punched at the ‘up’ button. Nightingale could see the entrance to the stairs but decided to stick with her, and he concentrated on breathing slowly and evenly as the elevator went up. As soon as the doors opened he headed out but Perez elbowed him to the side and beat him to it. There was a sign showing the directions of the room numbers and she headed left. Ahead of them were half a dozen uniformed cops and they parted to let her through.

  One of them put an arm out to stop Nightingale. ‘I’m with her,’ he said.

  ‘H
e’s with me,’ said Perez and the cop nodded and raised his arm.

  Perez opened the door and Nightingale followed her in. Andy Horowitz was in a bed with the head raised. His left arm was in a splint and there was a plaster above his right eye. There were bruises and cuts all over his chest and he was hooked up to a machine that was monitoring his vital signs. A doctor in a white coat was bent over Horowitz, checking his dressings. There were two heavy-set men in suits standing by the window and the older of the two nodded at Perez. ‘How are ya doing, Perez?’

  ‘All good.’

  The man nodded at Nightingale. ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘A Brit, he’s working with me.’

  The man nodded at Nightingale. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey,’ replied Nightingale.

  ‘Pete Taylor and Don Ashley,’ said Perez, by way of introduction. ‘They work with Andy. How’s he doing?’

  ‘I’m not dead, Perez,’ said Horowitz. ‘I can speak for myself.’

  The doctor turned and headed for the door. Perez went over to the bed. ‘What happened, Andy?’ asked Perez. ‘Looks like you got hit by a truck.’

  ‘That kid. He was a machine.’

  ‘A machine?’ repeated Perez.

  ‘He was unstoppable,’ said Horowitz. There were six guys at his door. Six. Armed to the teeth, Kevlar helmets and vests, the works. They knock, Nothing. They announce they’re cops. Still nothing. At that point you figure he’s either shitting himself or he’s out on the fire escape, right?’ He winced and closed his eyes.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Nightingale.

  Horowitz opened his eyes. ‘Are you fucking serious? No I’m not okay. I’ve got a broken arm, three of my discs are out and I’ve lost my spleen. One of my kidneys is on the watch list and I’m pissing blood.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nightingale.

  ‘Why the fuck are you sorry?’ asked Horowitz.

  ‘He says sorry a lot,’ said Perez. ‘It’s a British thing.’

  Horowitz nodded. ‘Anyway, he wasn’t heading down the fire escape. They tried a key card but that didn’t work so they kicked door down the door and he was just standing there, his head down, his hair hanging over his face. The door’s lying on the floor, there are six rifles and shotguns pointing at him and everyone’s shouting. Shock and awe. The fucking works. And he’s just standing there, like it’s nothing. Then he looks up, real slow. And I swear to you, his eyes had gone red.’

  ‘Red?’ repeated Perez.

  ‘Red. Not red like he’d been crying. Red like blood. All hell’s breaking lose, everyone’s shouting, and he’s just standing there. I’d told them he wasn’t armed and one of the guys lowers his shotgun and pulls out his Taser. He fires it and the two prongs shoot out and hit Donaldson square in the chest. We hear it crackle and Donaldson just laughs. He laughs. Laughs like he’s crazy. Laughs like the Taser is nothing. I got Tasered in training. It’s not nothing. I went down like I was poleaxed. He just stood there and fucking laughed.’

  He winced again and closed his eyes as he took two long, slow breaths. He opened his eyes again. He focussed on the ceiling as he continued to talk. ‘He pulls the barbs out from his shirt, just grabs the wires and pulls. The guy holding the Taser is off balance and he stumbles into the room. Then Donaldson starts to move. Man, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve seen Navy Seals in action and they’re fast but this guy… This teenager. He moves like.. I don’t know. Like fucking lightning. He grabs the Taser guy, spins him around and breaks his neck. You could hear it snap through all the shouting. They can’t shoot now because the SWAT guy is between them and the kid. Then he throws the SWAT guy at us. That guy is two hundred and twenty pounds minimum and he tosses him as if he was a fucking doll. The SWAT guys hits the team as a dead weight and then Donaldson is heading for the door, heading right at us. The sergeant who was second in line is the size of a small tank. The sergeant pulls his trigger but Donaldson is so fast, he steps to the side and grabs the barrel. You fire a gun and the barrel gets hot but he doesn’t seem to feel it. He pulls the guy into the room and then he does I don’t know what and the SWAT sergeant flies through the air and slams into the wall. The guy who was behind him fires but Donaldson ducks and rolls and then he comes up right in front of the guy his hands are a blur and the cop’s face just turns to mush. Then Donaldson turns and with one hand he throws the guy into the room and with the other hand he grabs the next cop by the throat. I’ve never seen anything like it. He didn’t even look, he just reached out and the next moment he’s squeezing his throat. Then he turns and breaks the guy’s neck. Snap. Just like that. One handed.

  ‘That leaves two SWAT guys between me and Donaldson. They’ve got assault rifles and what’s he got? Nothing. Just these red eyes that don’t seem to be blinking. The first one fires, bang-bang-bang, and all three shots hit the wall because he’s moved. He didn’t jump or flinch, he just moved from where he was to the side of the guy that was shooting and then he slams him up against the wall. And I mean up. The guy’s feet were swinging off the ground and he must have weighed as much as me. Donaldson is doing it one-handed. Then the other guy fires but Donaldson throws the body at him and they both end up on the floor. Donaldson stamps on the second guy’s hand and I hear the bones crack. Then I’m the only one left.’

  Horowitz winced again. ‘Cheryl, you’re going to have to ask them to increase my painkillers because my ribs are hurting like fuck.’

  ‘I will,’ she said. ‘Just tell us what happened.’

  Horowitz nodded, clearly in a lot of pain. ‘The cops had told me not to draw my weapon but it was clear that it was turning to shit so I pulled my Glock. He came towards me and I had my gun aimed right at him and I pulled the trigger three or four times. He moved out of the way every time. How could he do that? How can a kid move that fast? He was as close to me as you are and I missed every time. I pulled the trigger and he moved and I missed. Then he came at me and started hitting me and I just went out like a light. The guy was a machine. A fucking machine.’

  ‘He didn’t do martial arts, anything like that?’ asked Nightingale.

  Horowitz turned to look at him. ‘He played softball. Tennis. That was it. He was just a regular kid. How does a regular kid move that fast?’

  ‘Angel Dust, maybe’ said Taylor. ‘That’s a game changer. We’ve had a few kids go crazy after smoking joints laced with PCP. They call them water joints and if the dose is too high they go crazy.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Perez. ‘But nothing we’ve seen suggests he was on drugs. Right, Andy?’

  ‘Yeah, but nothing in this case makes any sense,’ said Horowitz. ‘I mean, what was Donaldson doing killing the girl in the first place? He didn’t know her, no connection that we can find, and by all accounts he was a good kid. He wasn’t a straight A student but he wasn’t failing at school, no drugs, no gang affiliations. How does he go from that to butchering a girl and taking out an entire SWAT team?’

  ‘Sometimes in stressful situations, adrenaline kicks in,’ said Nightingale. ‘Like when mothers lift cars to rescue their kids.’

  ‘It wasn’t that,’ said Horowitz. ‘It wasn’t anything like that. He busted my fucking spleen with one punch. And all the time it was happening, he was smiling.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nightingale. Perez looked over at him and gave him a withering look.

  ‘He wasn’t scared,’ said Horowitz. ‘He wasn’t the slightest bit fazed. In fact it looked to me as if he was enjoying it.’

  CHAPTER 28

  Nightingale lit a cigarette as he walked out of the hospital with Perez. There was a half moon overhead but it was mostly obscured by cloud. Nightingale stopped and blew smoke up at the night sky. Perez had parked in the hospital car park but there was a bar in the other direction and she nodded at it. ‘You feel like a drink?’

  Nightingale nodded. ‘And some.’

  They walked over to the bar in silence. Nightingale threw away what was left of his cigarette, pushed open t
he door and stepped inside. A country and western song was playing on a jukebox. Opposite the door was a long bar of polished wood that ran the full length of the room. By the window was a line of wooden booths, most of them occupied, and at the far end of the room were a few round tables with wooden chairs. ‘Bar or table?’ he asked but she was already walking to the bar. She slipped onto a stool and nodded at the barman, an anorexically thin blonde guy with tattooed arms. ‘Tequila,’ she said. ‘A shot. Hold the salt but I’ll take the lemon.’

  Nightingale climbed onto the stool to her left. ‘Bottled beer,’ he asked the barman. ‘Whatever’s good.’ The barman went off to get their drinks. ‘Are you okay?’ asked Nightingale.

  ‘If I’m not, what’ll you do? Say sorry?’

  ‘I can see you’re upset.’

  Her eyebrows arched. ‘Do you think?’

  ‘I am sorry what happened to Andy. But there’s no way anyone could have known.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  Nightingale opened his mouth to reply but the barman returned and put their drinks down in front of them. Perez downed her tequila shot in one, then picked up a slice of lemon from a small dish and bit into it. She put the lemon peel back on the dish and nodded at the barman. ‘Another,’ she said. ‘And keep them coming.’ The barman headed back to the tequila bottle. ‘Matt Donaldson was a regular teenage High School student,’ said Perez. ‘Mr average. Mr less than average, maybe. How does a scrawny teenager end up beating the shit out of a SWAT team? And you saw what he did to Andy? Andy went through two tours in Iraq without a scratch. How does a teenager put him in a hospital bed?’

  ‘Like that cop said, drugs maybe.’

  The barman came back with a fresh shot. Perez toyed with it but didn’t drink it. ‘Not an adrenaline rush, like you said back at the hospital?’

  Nightingale shrugged. ‘Either are possibilities, I suppose.’