by Steven Henry
“I think,” Erin said slowly, “he wanted to tell me. I think he wanted me to know he wanted to tell me.”
“But he didn't tell you.”
“Nope.” Erin sighed. “So maybe you're right, maybe it doesn't matter.”
Kira was shaking her head. “Hold on,” she said. “Has he been helping you with the other case?”
“Yeah. But he doesn't know anything concrete. He's more of a... technical adviser, I guess.”
“So he'll help you with police work.”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“Why not this time?”
“He likes being difficult, playing games with me.”
“He could get killed for talking to you at all, Erin. What are we missing here?”
Then Erin got it. She just had to stop thinking like a police detective and start thinking like a mobster. From Carlyle's perspective, it was obvious. “You're right,” she said. “The O'Malleys will kill him if he squeals on them. So he can't.”
“Okay,” Kira said. “But the O'Malleys are the ones getting attacked.”
“No! Carlyle is getting attacked. I think he's been targeted by someone inside his own organization. Using an outsider, so it's harder to trace back.”
“Yeah,” Kira said. “He wants it known that he's not betraying the O'Malleys, so he said, in front of a witness, that he couldn't help you. But he said it in a way that you'd know what he wanted to say.”
“He's got a pretty high opinion of my logic, if he figured all this ahead of time,” Erin muttered. “But if we're right, then we know where Rüdel is. Sort of. One of Carlyle's internal rivals in the O'Malleys is hiding him.”
“It's thin,” Kira said. “I don't think we can get warrants on the basis of what a criminal isn't telling us.”
“But we can focus our search,” Erin said. “The O'Malleys operate in southern Manhattan and northern Queens. Rüdel's there somewhere. I'd bet on it.”
“That's still a lot of territory,” Kira said doubtfully.
“It's a start,” Erin said. “So, is my interrogation over?”
Kira laughed and unbolted the door. She opened it and found herself face to face with Sergeant Brown.
“You two ladies finished screwing each other?” he asked. “You could at least leave the door open next time so the rest of us can watch. You willing to let a Vice cop try a cup of decent coffee?”
Kira smiled sweetly, gave him the finger, and stepped around the Vice sergeant. “See you around, Brown,” she said. “Some of us have work to do.”
Chapter 16
“I know it's thin, sir,” Erin finished. “But—”
“Thin?” Webb echoed. “O'Reilly, skim milk is thin. Piano wire is thin. Hell, back in high school, I was thin. This? This is two-dimensional.”
Erin started to protest, but Webb wasn't finished yet.
“It's not a hunch,” he went on. “It's a hunch, based on another hunch you think Carlyle has, which you think he told you, by not really telling you. Have I got that right?”
Sometimes there was nothing to do but face the music. Erin stood at parade rest, hands clasped behind her back, looking straight ahead. “Yes, sir.”
The Lieutenant sighed. “We're putting his face out on the evening news. Full-court press. Captain's orders. What do you think you can get done by then?”
She glanced at the clock. “That's less than two hours from now.”
“What about it? You still think Rüdel will go to ground when he sees his picture?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You've got until then to see if you can dig up anything better.”
“You're giving me two hours to find one guy in Manhattan?”
“Or Queens,” Webb added.
“Thanks,” she said, managing to keep most of the sarcasm out of her voice. “I better get on it.”
Kira and Rolf were waiting for her at her desk. “What's the word?” Kira asked.
“If we don't find him by six thirty, he'll hide somewhere so dark and deep, we'll need dynamite and a team of coal miners to dig him out,” Erin said. “That's assuming he's even still in New York.”
“Maybe he's not,” Kira said. “He's an out of town hit man, right? He always meant to go home after taking Carlyle out.”
“Yeah.”
“So how's he getting out?” Kira smiled. “You don't have to follow a guy if you know where he's going.”
“He's not going by air,” Erin said. “Rüdel wouldn't want to mess with the TSA after shooting someone. He's on Homeland's watchlist because of the terrorist thing in Munich. I'm guessing he'll go out the same way he got in.”
“Boat?”
“Boat.”
“Okay.” Kira shrugged. “I dunno if you noticed, but unfortunately, New York's made of islands.”
“I know,” Erin said absently, sliding into her chair and calling up the case information on her computer. She was looking for Captain MacIntosh's statement. “Apparently, Rüdel used a cigarette boat for his hijack. Fast, fairly short-range.”
“He didn't cross the Atlantic in one of those,” Kira said.
“No,” Erin agreed. “He's probably planning to hop along the coast to another port and get on a cargo ship.”
“Why not just use a ship here? New York's got hundreds.”
Erin nodded. “Okay, maybe he comes in as a passenger, picks up the little boat here, and uses it to intercept the Loch Druich. Then he comes back and gets on another ship heading back to Europe, or wherever he wants to end up.”
“That doesn't help,” Kira said. “He could be on any ship in the harbor.”
“No,” Erin said. She was playing her hunch based on Carlyle, so she needed to think like one of the O'Malleys. “Rüdel wouldn't chance being on just any ship. He's on an O'Malley ship.”
“They've got ships?”
“I expect they've got a lot of things,” Erin said. “But they're smugglers, so yeah, they've got ships. What we need to do is to figure out which of the O'Malleys has access to shipping, and also wants to take out Carlyle.”
Kira shook her head. “We've got a big file on the O'Malleys. They've been operating for decades, and there's a bunch of them. It'll take days to sort through it all.”
“We've got,” Erin looked at the clock again, “an hour to do the research, tops, and still have time to run down a lead or two.”
“We can't delay it going out to the networks?”
“I don't think so,” Erin said. To be honest, putting Rüdel's name and picture out was probably a good idea. They only needed to get lucky once to nail him, and having eight million pairs of eyes on their side would help. But she couldn't shake the feeling that Rüdel was clever enough to get out of sight and stay there, that this was their chance. “Wouldn't matter anyway. He's gonna be gone soon, unless he's planning to make another play for Carlyle.”
“You think he'd try that again?”
“No. Carlyle's on guard now. He's protected. I saw all sorts of thugs at Corky's place.”
“Corky?”
“Corcoran,” Erin corrected herself.
“Oh, right. Carlyle's buddy.” Kira moved to her own desk. “I'll see what I can skim from the O'Malley file.”
Detectives, Erin had found, spent an awful lot of time staring at computer screens. She wasn't the quickest at gathering information off files and reports. Being on a clock didn't help either. She was trying to learn the ins and outs of a major criminal organization in the space of a few minutes. This would normally be the outcome of a months-long investigation.
As it turned out, the O'Malley file was long on size but short on substance. The NYPD hadn't made any serious effort to shut them down. There was a laundry list of names, all of them linked to various aspects of the family, but the overall picture was blurry.
“We gotta get at someone on the inside,” she muttered. There wasn't any substitute for having an officer working the human angle. Informants and undercover work were best.
“Got anything?” Kir
a called over. They'd used up most of their self-imposed time limit.
“Jack,” Erin said, “and maybe his buddy, shit.”
“Looks like the Organized Crime unit thinks Corcoran's behind most of the smuggling,” Kira said. “Maybe he moved Rüdel.”
“I don't think so,” Erin said. “Cork—Corcoran's the only guy I think Carlyle really trusts with his life. Carlyle's staying with him right now, for God's sake. If Corcoran's got it in for him, Carlyle would probably already be dead.”
“Okay,” Kira said. “Then he wouldn't be using any of Corcoran's guys either. Corcoran's plugged in with the Teamsters and the ILA.”
“But the Longshoremen's Association moves everything that comes into this city, practically,” Erin said. Her dad was a big supporter of labor unions and had made sure his children knew how important they were to New York.
“Exactly,” Kira said. “So we're looking for a small, non-union operation affiliated with the O'Malleys.”
“How many options does that give us?”
“Too many,” Kira said. “How lucky do you feel?”
“Hey, Vic!” Erin called.
“What?” Vic was at his desk, staring at his computer screen as if he could kill the Internet with his eyes.
“You want to knock on some doors, maybe find this asshole?”
He stood up. “Hell, yes.”
“Not just yet,” Kira said. “We still need to find out which doors to knock on.”
Vic's face fell. He slumped back into his chair. “So, what're you gonna do? Play blindfold darts with a map?”
Kira had called up the Port Authority's records. “Not quite,” she said. “We're looking for a dock with a ship bound for Europe. Rüdel's going to be headed for home. Cross-reference for non-union longshoremen...” She kept typing. “God, I wish I hadn't given up smoking.”
Erin and Vic waited.
“O'Malley connections,” Kira went on, flipping through the gang's file. “O'Malleys not connected to Corcoran...”
“You really think this is gonna work?” Vic asked Erin.
She shrugged. “Best chance we've got.”
“There,” Kira said, pointing to her map. “Off Columbia Street, Brooklyn. This cargo dock.” She hesitated. “Or, this other one. Or maybe over in Jamaica Bay. Or...”
“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Vic said.
“I can't help it,” Kira said. “It's not like there's a neon sign pointing to the right answer. None of this is collated. I'm doing it in my head, dammit!”
“So, we each take one of these?” Vic suggested.
“No,” Erin said. “Rüdel's dangerous. And last we knew he's got at least one friend with him. If were sure where he was, we'd want ESU. We need to pick one and check it out together. We can probably get some uniforms to go for the other sites, too, but we can't grab too many resources off the street. Like Webb said, it's a hunch based on a hunch.”
“Shouldn't we get some more backup?” Kira asked.
“What for?” Vic replied. “All we know, this asshole's ten miles from any of these places. Face it, Erin, you're shooting in the dark.”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “But what else can we do? What's your best guess, Kira? Off this list?”
“Why me?”
“You're our best data analyst.”
“Okay, Columbia Street it is,” Kira said. “Here, on the East River.”
They took two cars, Erin and Rolf in her Charger, Kira and Vic in Kira's Taurus. The arrangement left Erin to wrestle with her thoughts during the drive. She was thinking about Rüdel, but she was also thinking about the hotel killer. And most of all, strangely, she was thinking about Carlyle. She couldn't prove it, couldn't even explain it in a way that made sense, but she knew he was trying to help her. She found herself wanting to trust him more than the situation warranted.
Either she was right or she wasn't. Even if she was right, maybe he wasn't. Erin was uncomfortably aware just how big the Five Boroughs were. She also knew how many people lived in New York. It was rush hour and the bridges were packed. Fortunately, as police on official business, they could use the bus and bike lanes. Since their cars were unmarked, not all their fellow New Yorkers recognized them as cops. They collected some rude gestures and irritable honks along the way.
Erin liked Long Island. She'd been born there and had spent almost her entire police career in Queens. The blue-collar feel of the place was a lot more comfortable to her than the skyscraper canyons of Manhattan. This was her hometown, her people.
The two cars drew up at the dockyard. A chain-link fence surrounded the yard, topped with a coil of razor wire. On the other side they could see big, bright-colored cargo containers that reminded Erin of the blocks she and her brothers had played with as kids. The parking lot inside was almost empty. Two cars were parked there, a black Lexus and a silver Suburban SUV.
Vic and Kira got out of Kira's car and walked back to meet Erin. Kira was working the Velcro fasteners on her vest. Vic was already wearing his. Erin took a moment to put Rolf's body armor on him, then geared herself up. She was carrying a loaner Glock from the precinct's armory. Her own sidearm was still being held as evidence in the Barley Corner shootout, but that didn't bother her. One Glock was pretty much the same as another.
“We can't go in there without a warrant,” Kira said.
“Pop the trunk, would you?” Vic said, ignoring her words. Kira flicked the button on her key fob. Vic took out the M4 carbine he'd stowed there, slapped a magazine into the rifle, and chambered a round.
“You could at least pretend to listen to me,” Kira said. “Because I'm right. That's private property. We need PC to go in, and we don't have it.”
“I'm just getting ready,” Vic said. “In case.”
“Seems kinda quiet, doesn't it?” Erin observed.
The others looked around. Kira nodded. “Yeah, where is everyone?”
Cars were passing on Columbia, but the dockyard itself looked deserted. The work day was about over, true, but there still should've been a few workers around.
“Whose cars are those, you think?” Vic asked.
“Got me,” Kira said.
“Can you make out the plates from here?” he went on.
“Vic, it's not like we're going to find Rüdel listed in the DMV database,” Kira said. “He didn't bring a car from Germany.”
“No, he didn't,” Erin said, getting it. “But he's not buying cars or renting them, either.”
“Meaning?” Kira asked.
Erin didn't explain right away. “Alpha Golf Bravo six eight niner three, I make it,” she said, squinting to see the SUV's rear plate.
“I got the same,” Vic said. “Tango Mike Echo eight oh thirty-three on the sedan.”
“I'll run them,” Kira said, climbing back into her car. “But I still don't see—”
“If they're being used by Rüdel, they're probably stolen,” Erin explained. “And that's our probable cause.”
“Oh,” Kira said. “Geez. I feel like an idiot.”
Inside three minutes, she'd run both plates. “I got nothing on the Lexus,” she said. “But the Suburban was reported stolen yesterday.”
“Beautiful,” Vic said quietly. “Let's rock.” The difference in him was palpable. The surly, grumpy desk jockey had come alive. He was doing what he'd been put on Earth to do.
“Hold on,” Kira said. “We can get ESU now, right?”
Erin hesitated. Kira might be right. But they still weren't sure. Right now, all they had was a stolen car in a Mob-affiliated parking lot. That was good enough to go in, but not to get a whole squad of door-kickers. Besides, that would take time, and in that time Rüdel might be gone... assuming he was even there.
“Let's do this,” she said.
“Erin, seriously,” Kira said. “I've got a bad feeling about this.”
“Stay with the cars,” Vic said to her. “Call it in, get some uniforms, direct them in after us. Erin and I will go in.”
&nb
sp; “And Rolf,” Erin added.
“And Rolf,” Vic agreed. Holding his rifle against his shoulder, barrel angled slightly down, head scanning for threats, he moved to the gate. Erin drew her Glock, press-checked the pistol to make sure a round was chambered, and followed.
“Careful, guys,” Kira called after them.
“Careful?” Vic repeated. “If I wanted to be careful, I'd have done what Mom wanted and become a florist.”
“A florist?” Erin echoed.
“She thought it'd be a good way for me to meet girls,” he said defensively.
“She's probably right,” Erin admitted.
They looked at each other. Then, some combination of the strange conversation topic and the tension of the moment hit them and they both started laughing. Kira was staring at them like they were crazy, and Erin thought maybe they were, a little. Then they got themselves under control.
“Hey!” Vic shouted. “You in there! NYPD! We're coming in. Hands where we can see them!”
Chapter 17
There was no response from the dockyard. Vic covered the grounds with his rifle while Erin checked the gate.
“It's not locked,” she said.
“Makes sense,” he grunted. “In case they need to get out fast.”
She put her shoulder to the chain-link barrier and shoved it back on its rollers. She opened it halfway, leaving it that way to prevent a vehicle's exit. Kira, behind the wheel of her car, moved the Taurus to block the road.
“I've got your back,” Vic said. “Go.”
Erin sprinted across the parking lot, Rolf running easily at her side. She got to the parked cars and gave them a quick once-over. No one was inside.
“Clear!” she called to Vic, then crouched behind the Suburban's engine block, keeping it between her and the dock.
Once she was set up, Vic came in. It was a game of armed leapfrog. He took position behind the Lexus. “Where the hell are they?” he wondered.
Erin considered the problem. The dock itself was empty. A ship was scheduled to leave the following day, but it wasn't anchored there now. Someone could easily be hiding among the stacked containers, or even inside one, but there were dozens of the huge metal crates. They'd need twenty cops to canvas the area.
