Don't Close Your Eyes (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 1)

by Lawrence Kelter

“Breakdown by chemical composition and spectrographic analysis confirm the same.”

  “Herbert, what the hell are we looking at?” I fired.

  Ambler rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Doris. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Nice meeting the two of you,” she offered. I checked my watch. It was past five—Fuchs was probably late for her canasta game.

  Fuchs squinted at me disdainfully before walking off. “Nice dress,” she scoffed.

  Why, you . . .

  “Guess you got yours,” Ambler blurted before propping himself up on a nearby windowsill.

  Yeah, kiss my . . .

  I could see lower Manhattan behind him. The sun had set. The evening skyline was magnificent. It helped to calm me down.

  Ambler cleared his throat before he began. “The slides were made from residual material found with the footprints that were lifted from the tramcar and—” Ambler raised his eyebrows, heightening his sense of the dramatic.

  “Come on, Ambler,” Lido shot. “Spit it out.”

  “Party poopers. The other set of prints were taken at the Hilary Glenn fundraiser.”

  Lido and I looked at each other. “No shit!” came out of our mouths simultaneously.

  “Wow. Good going,” Lido offered.

  Ever the ham, Ambler, took a bow. “There’s more,” he announced. “These are paint samples. They consist of PSN-12 and GE-40. They’re lead-lock paint inhibitors.”

  “And I’ll bet you’re about to tell us the significance of that, aren’t you?” I can be such a pistol.

  “These are industrial materials, not exactly the kind of stuff you find at Home Depot. Our boys didn’t think much of it when they found it on the tram and dismissed it out of hand. There’s certainly a call for its use in that instance, but when they found it in the middle of the dance floor at the fundraiser, it hit us like a ton of bricks.”

  “Ergo, it’s traceable. We find out who’s working with this stuff and we’ve got a good lead on Clovin.”

  “Exactly, Stephanie. These materials are used for encasement. They’re used in the refurbishing of old construction and such. They power-spray it over rusting iron and flaky delaminating lead-based paint. There are a finite number of projects going on. This is the break we’ve been waiting for.”

  “Have you come up with the number of projects this lead-lock paint stuff is being used on yet?” I asked.

  “The computers are still processing the request and my team is still checking out leads, but I don’t think that it’ll take very long. I should have a preliminary list in no time at all. It won’t be fully comprehensive, but it’ll give us a good, solid start.”

  I would make sure that it did. But hey, what about Clovin, our pressure-spraying painter of a perp? He had just vaulted the dung pile to become one of the most wanted men in America. He was certainly the most wanted man on my list. I had the feeling we would soon cross paths.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Lido huddled just within the loading dock bay at United Encasement Systems. A light rain had begun to fall. Lido looked out into the night. Irradiated by the light of the sodium lamps, the rain droplets glistened like falling diamonds before a sapphire sky. A multitude of white commercial vehicles were distributed at fixed positions around the parking field: large material transports, panel vans, and economy passenger cars. Each was stenciled with the company logo: red letters UES within a hunter-green oval.

  He had spent the last two hours combing through case upon case of employment records. Clovin’s name had not surfaced.

  UES was the largest encasement firm on the East Coast and the principal user of the industrial paint compounds PSN-12 and GE-40. There were several smaller regional firms using these materials. Each would have to be checked out individually if, and it seemed likely, nothing was found at UES.

  Herbert Ambler approached Lido and handed him a coffee cup. “How much longer?” Lido inquired.

  Ambler put his foot up on a sealed five-gallon pail of paint and began sipping coffee. “All night if necessary.” He winked at Lido. “Getting lonely?”

  Lido tried the coffee and grimaced. “Kiss my butt.”

  “Is that a bribe?”

  “Don’t you ever give up?”

  “I’ve put in eighteen years as a Fed. Does that answer your question? If I didn’t have a sense of humor, I’d be as tight-assed as everyone else at Twenty-six Federal Plaza.”

  Lido poured the contents of his coffee cup on the ground outside the loading bay. “What do you want to know?”

  “Excuse me?” Ambler scrunched up his nose.

  “Come on, Ambler. You’ve been bugging the shit out of me for days. So tell me what’s on your mind and let’s get it over with. You want to know if we’re doing it, or if she’s good? Come on, spit it out.”

  “I’ve known Stephanie since she was in grade school. Chalice’s dad and I knew each other forever. He’d be on the job now if his health hadn’t taken a turn for the worse.” Ambler took his foot off the pail, crushed the coffee cup in his hand and stepped up to the plate. He was shorter than Lido, but he looked directly into his eyes, no more than six inches away. “I’ve been part of her family since I was a wet-behind-the-ears investigator. So, Gus Lido, what I really want to know is, do you care for this girl, or is this just hot sex? It may be none of my business, but I figure I owe it to my old friend to find out.”

  Lido wrinkled his forehead and pursed his lips momentarily, uncertain of how to respond. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s beyond physical, Herb, way beyond.”

  Ambler gave Lido a playful slap on the cheek. “That’s what I thought . . . and don’t worry about what you told me. I’ve cracked tougher eggs than you. I won’t say a thing,” Ambler said gleefully and then backed away.

  “I don’t believe you. That was it?”

  “The whole enchilada, kid. I needed to know what kind of guy you are.”

  “Amazing.”

  Ambler grinned. “Why don’t we go back upstairs and see if we can wrap up for the night? It’s after ten. These people are getting pretty testy and I don’t know that I blame them.”

  Lido walked alongside Ambler. “I’m glad that Stephanie’s as important to you as she is,” Lido said. He put his hand on Ambler’s shoulder. “Stephanie told me you were all right.”

  “Just keeping my eyes open, Lido. She’d do the same for me.”

  Lido and Ambler took the stairs two at a time. They stopped outside the company’s executive offices. “You think there’s a decent place to eat around here? I’m absolutely famished.” Lido rubbed his belly to demonstrate.

  “Matter of fact, there is. Let’s see where we stand and I’ll take you out for a fat, juicy steak,” Ambler replied.

  “What happened to the all-night-if-necessary attitude?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I want Clovin as badly as anyone, but have you ever read the file on Hilary Glenn?”

  “No. What’s up with her?”

  Ambler pushed air past his sealed lips. “Let’s put it this way. We’re sworn to serve and protect, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, between you and me, we won’t be serving or protecting anyone by finding Hilary Glenn. Getting her back and setting her safely on the path to the Senate will be the worst thing that ever happened to the people of New York.” Ambler cleared his throat. “Remember the gas shortages of the seventies?”

  “Vaguely. I was just a kid.”

  “Well, guess how the young Ms. Hilary Glenn got promoted to the CEO spot at Vycon Petroleum?”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “She was only in her twenties, for God’s sake.” Ambler rubbed his nose. “Anyway, her father the charming Roger Glenn was a ne’er-do-well Connecticut, white bread WASP who didn’t have two nickels to rub together until he married Samia Farouki, Hillary’s mother. She calls herself Samantha Glenn now but the Farouki family controls two thirds of the oil production in Saudi Arabia.”

  “
So you’re telling me that Hillary is the self-serving type and the Senate seat just puts her in position to help her family become even richer.”

  “That and a bag of chips.”

  “Okay, she’s an opportunist but it sounds like you missed your refresher class in motivation. Where’s that rah, rah, go-getter spirit you Feds are famous for?”

  Ambler pursed his lips. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  Lido nodded. “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

  Tara Hughes cringed when she saw Ambler and Lido in her doorway. “I’ve gotta go,” she said in dismay. She was shaking her head from side to side as she spoke into the phone. “Yes, eat without me. I’ll be home when I can. Love you too. Bye.” She made no attempt to conceal her irritation. “Yes, gentlemen. What is it now?”

  Lido and Ambler invited themselves in and sat down in the chairs positioned in front of Hughes’ desk.

  “We’ve come up empty,” Ambler explained.

  “As I was sure you would,” Hughes blurted. UES’s VP of Human Resources was worn to the point of combustion. “I’d like to send my staff home. They’re tired and hungry.”

  “Me too,” Lido added, unmoved by the complaint. “This goes beyond dollars and cents, Ms. Hughes. “Lives are at stake, very important lives. So what we do in a case like this is start all over again so that we’re absolutely sure we haven’t missed anything.”

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Hughes moaned. “I’ve had it,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “We’re leaving. You can sleep here if you like. You’ve been through everything. There’s nothing here!” She stood up and yanked her drawer open. She grabbed a handful of the drawer’s contents and threw it on the table. “Here!” she bellowed. “Look all you want. The computers are on and the files are unlocked. Help yourself.”

  Ambler and Lido looked at each other. Ambler turned to Hughes. “Better sit down. I want to go through the payroll for the last two years one more time.”

  “Why?” Hughes asked indignantly. “The printout hasn’t changed. What do you think you’re going to find?”

  “You never make out any manual checks?” Lido asked.

  “Not for payroll. All full-time employees are on the computer. ADP pays them every other week. The only one with a regular checkbook is Lloyd Bochner, the comptroller.”

  Lido and Ambler stood. “Get him down here!” Ambler demanded.

  ~~~

  Tara Hughes was glad to hand them off to the comptroller. “I’m leaving,” she told Bochner.

  “Edward wants you to help these men as long as they need it. Call him if there

  are any problems.”

  Lloyd Bochner acknowledged the instructions she had relayed from UES’s president. “Will do.”

  “I’ll make this short and sweet,” Lido announced. “We want to see any manual checks that have been cut for part-timers, outside contractors or freelancers for the last two years.”

  Bochner’s expression froze. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “The FBI doesn’t kid,” Ambler replied. “Is that your way of telling us there are more than a couple?”

  Bochner reached for the phone. “I’ll have to call—”

  Lido grabbed his hand. “No, you don’t. We made a simple request. Take care of it.”

  Bochner didn’t reply. He stared at his desk blotter, searching for a solution that wasn’t there.”

  “Oh, for the love of God, we’re not the goddamn IRS,” Ambler blurted. He turned to Lido. “Son of a bitch is afraid of getting pinched for cheating on the payroll taxes.”

  Ambler turned to Bochner. Sweat was pouring from the comptroller’s forehead. “So, what’s it going to be? We’re looking for a man named Zachary Clovin. Now, is he hidden away in your dirty little file or isn’t he?”

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Bochner nodded.

  Ambler slammed his fist down on Bochner’s desk. “Goddamn it. You son of a bitch, you cost us two hours. Why, I ought to tear your throat out.” He turned back to Lido with a knowing expression on his face. “All right, Lido, here we go.”

  Chapter Forty

  The smash of Clovin’s hand across Hilary Glenn’s face summoned her back to the conscious world, but did not succeed at reviving her. Again, his hand exploded across her face, again and again, until adrenaline forced her awake. Simultaneously, searing pain ripped through her wrists, arms, shoulders and back. Her trunk was painfully locked in spasm. Glenn’s eyes twittered open. Clovin stood beside her, the sickness of psychosis manifesting itself across his face.

  Her position had not changed; nor would it until death blessed her with its arrival. Bound by her wrists, she dangled from a nylon rope, her toes hanging little more than an inch above the floor. As before, she knew that pleading was useless, but she tried nonetheless. She hadn’t been fed or given any water. She had no saliva to moisten her throat. Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. “Please let me down.” The floor was so close she could almost feel it. She ached for the pads of her feet to caress the surface. “I beg you.” Her dry, pasty eyes closed. There was no moisture available for her to produce tears.

  “It’s so close, isn’t it, the cement floor beneath you? I could let you down but I won’t. Why should I? Why are you wasting my time? By the way, your dress fits you better than it did when I seized you. Too many social occasions, Hilary.” He pretended to whisper. “You’ve put on a few. Shame I don’t have a camera. You’re looking stylishly anorexic. Of course, you’ve been eating low-cal, now, haven’t you? Let’s see if I can smell it on your breath.” In his stocking feet, Clovin was still far taller than she was. He bent over and pretended to sniff her mouth. “That’s a new one on me. Help me out with this, Hilary. I’m not sure . . . oh wait, I know. You’ve been eating your trusted campaign manager. That’s it, isn’t it?” Hilary Glenn blinked her eyes sadly. She had nothing left with which to register the insult. She stared at her captor through tortured eyes. “You’ve been a very naughty politician, sucking off Mr. Wainright. Evan’s a—” Clovin grinned, “was a married man.” Clovin seated himself on the floor at her feet. “Now he’s a corpse.”

  “Money.” It was the only thing left to try. She felt her shoulder joints tearing from their sockets. “How much?” she offered in a hoarse, muffled voice.

  “You think I want money? You really are a stupid cow. That’s the way you’re accustomed to having it, right, Hilary? Men at your feet, anybody for a price? How does it feel to have absolutely nothing? Can’t you place the face?” Hilary squinted, but in her failing state, Clovin’s features seemed distorted and unrecognizable. “That’s right, we all look the same, don’t we? Faceless voters. You don’t give a shit who we are as long as you get elected. Next time you’d better be nicer to the Window Washers’ Union.” He searched her face and finally saw a spark of recognition. “That’s right, I was in your office. I cleaned your windows right after you and Wainright had gotten off on one another. Pity, isn’t it? Had you pushed me from the window instead of pulling me in, you wouldn’t be in the situation you are right now. How does it feel to know that the one time you acted in good conscience, you signed your own death warrant?”

  Hilary Glenn’s voice was barely audible. “I’d spit in your face if I could.” She was overcome from the ordeal.

  Clovin stood abruptly. “Sorry, Madame CEO, I couldn’t quite make that out.”

  He turned until his ear was in front of her mouth, so he could hear her failing voice. “I’d like to spit in your face,” she repeated.

  “You can’t, though, can you? The old bag’s all dried out.” He sniggered. “Would you like something to whet your whistle?” Clovin produced a dramatic smile. “How about it?”

  Glenn narrowed her eyes, sneering until the total extent of her malice was focused on Clovin.

  “No? Well, then I think it’s just about that time. We’ve been hanging around here long enough. Oops, sorry, bad choice of words, but I assumed there’d be people looking for you. App
arently no one gives a shit! I guess everyone’s figured out that New York State and the rest of the world would be far better off without you.”

  Clovin waited until he could see the sadness register in Glenn’s eyes and then walked into the shadows. She tried to follow his movements, but her eyes burned from dryness and could not be kept open for more than a few seconds at a time. She could hear him though, tinkering with something in the shadow. Metallic sounds, sounds to dread. She then heard a small engine starting. Her body tensed with fear as the engine caught and began to race. She tried to manage some dignity as he emerged from the shadows, wheeling the power-paint compressor in her direction. He set it in place and then picked up the spraying wand and held it to her face. She began to retch from the intense odor of the petrochemical. Bile poured forth from her empty stomach and when there was none left, Clovin forced the wand into her mouth and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Assault. There was no other way to describe the action taken in the attempted apprehension of Zachary Clovin at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, the site where he had been working. There was no subtlety, no stealth, and no ingenuity. Of the five million feet of under-roof construction, ninety percent of the Brooklyn Navy Yard had been renovated and subsequently rented by commercial tenants. Only ten percent remained, as yet unimproved, leaving a mere five hundred thousand square feet of decrepit, rotting, rusted, and highly compartmentalized space for the FBI and NYPD forces to search and secure.

  Storm clouds had come. The FBI and NYPD forces assembled in the pelting rain: hundreds of agents, at least twenty personnel transport vehicles, tactical units, helicopters, emergency lighting, and electric generators. The area to be covered resembled Anzio after the war: crumbling walls, debris, rusting metal pipes, rotting water-damaged materials everywhere.

  Ambler and Lido stood side by side as the agents under Ambler’s command filed past them into area one. The half million square feet had been broken up into ten fifty thousand square-foot parcels for the purpose of permitting a thorough and comprehensive search. All tactical personnel had been issued protective headgear and boots. They had all been cautioned as to the building’s dilapidated and unsafe condition.