Muzzled

by Rosenfelt, David

  “Good. Don’t stay anywhere within his sight line; we know where he is going.”

  In truth I don’t know for sure, but I’m damn near positive and betting a lot on it. Because if Victor is not coming here, then he’s going somewhere else, and the results could be catastrophic.

  I call Pete and tell him that we are a go. Then Laurie drops me off and I get in position. She drives off and goes to get in place herself.

  I’m wearing a jacket even though it is way too warm for it to be necessary. I need a place to keep the handgun, and I’m afraid that if I keep it in my belt, or even in my pants pocket, I might shoot my foot off. Or worse.

  I keep my hand in the same pocket, trying to keep the gun from being jostled. It’s no doubt ridiculous and unnecessary to do so, but it makes me feel better. I don’t go anywhere near the trigger.

  We’re all set. All we can do is wait and hope we’re right.

  The pounding on the door started at 6:55.

  Gerald Bennings was sleeping when it began, which is why it took him a few minutes to get his bearings and go to the door to see what the hell was going on.

  By the time he got there, the door was no longer functioning as intended. That’s because it had been knocked down by police uninterested in whether they were disturbing Bennings’s sleep.

  Pete Stanton led the charge, a courtesy granted by the Paramus police, since that is where Bennings’s house is located. Paterson and Paramus cops have conducted a number of joint operations in the past, so Pete had friends there who were willing and anxious to be part of this operation.

  Pete handed the warrant to Bennings. Judge Mahomes had signed it eighteen hours earlier. Pete then insisted that Bennings leave the house, graciously allowing him to get dressed first. Once he was out of the house, so was Pete.

  He had gone over in detail with the Paramus cops what they should take, and two of Pete’s men stayed behind as well. The instructions, while detailed, also contained the directive “If in doubt, take it.”

  Bennings was vocal in proclaiming his outrage and his innocence of any possible wrongdoing. He insisted that he be told what they were looking for, but nobody cared about his insistence.

  As Pete was leaving, he got a good look at the man.

  Gerald Bennings sounded angry, but he looked scared.

  I expected Victor would be here at seven thirty, but he beats that by five minutes.

  I hear the car pull up; it’s a windy day so I don’t know if Laurie can hear it from where she is. She doesn’t have a straight sight line to it either, but she might see the dust that the car must have raised on the dry dirt road.

  The next sound I hear, besides my heart pounding, is the car door opening but not closing. It’s a sign that Victor only plans to be here for a few seconds. He doesn’t know it, but his plans are about to change.

  The shed door opens, and the first thing Victor sees is me, Andy Carpenter, leaning against the water tank and holding a gun on him. I’ve had guns held on me before, but I’ve never been the one doing the holding. It’s significantly better this way, but I’m still nervous as hell.

  I take comfort in that the worst than can happen is that the gun will accidentally go off and Victor will get shot. I could live with that, even if Victor couldn’t.

  Victor looks surprised when he sees me, but not panicked. Far from it. This guy always thinks he is in control, and until now he’s always been right.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I ask, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. “We’ve been worried sick about you.”

  He doesn’t say anything, so I add, “This is the time you raise your hands.”

  He pauses a moment, conveying the impression that whether he raises his hands is his decision, not mine. When he does raise them, he hits the top of the shed. It makes me realize how big this guy is.

  Victor is probably six-four and must weigh two-fifty. He could have been a tight end for the Giants, if he hadn’t chosen to be a scumbag killer. Bad career choice.

  “You will not leave here alive.” He points up and to the left, which is in the direction of the main house. “They will die, but you will die faster and easier. Consider yourself lucky.”

  “On the other hand, I could shoot you now, which would be a net plus for humanity.” If my hand wasn’t shaking so much, I think there would be more chance he would be intimidated.

  Before Victor can respond, he is pushed from behind up against the wall. A hand comes around and deftly removes his gun from his pocket. The other hand takes something out of the other pocket. Victor reacts more to that, so I know what it must be.

  “Victor, have you met Marcus Clark?”

  Victor doesn’t answer, so I say, “Step outside.”

  He exits the shed along with Marcus, and I follow them, still nervously holding the gun. I know that the correct thing is to just stand there like this until the police arrive, but I made a promise to Marcus.

  I make it a habit never to break a promise to Marcus.

  Marcus is standing between Victor and his running car, and I say, “If you can get to your car, you’re free to go.”

  It’s a complete lie; the police are blocking off the road below and Laurie is up at the Jefferson Home. But if I was okay with the possibility of shooting Victor, I’m certainly fine with lying to him.

  The cops are not here already because of the deal I made with them to let them be a part of the operation. I was afraid that Victor might detect their presence and be scared off. That was one reason; the other was that promise to Marcus.

  For some reason it’s somewhat disconcerting to me to realize that Victor seems unfazed by what is happening, as if he can handle things quite well.

  He looks at Marcus, who himself looks so unconcerned that I think he might actually be asleep. I expect Victor to make a move, and he does, just not the one I expected.

  He whirls and knocks the gun out of my hand. A wave of panic hits me as we both go for the gun and I realize that he is going to beat me to it. And he does beat me, but he still comes in second, with me a distant third. Marcus gets there first.

  Marcus kicks the gun and it goes rattling down the hill. At first I think Victor is going to run after it, but Marcus is in the way. Victor makes the smart choice; he goes for the car.

  Marcus reaches him before Victor gets to the open car door and knocks him into the side of the car. He could have just shot him instead, since he has Victor’s gun in his pocket. But that is not Marcus’s style.

  Victor bounces off the car and whirls around, his face contorted with fury. It’s the first emotion I’ve seen him display.

  If someone is going to fight Marcus, and I would strongly recommend against it, anger doesn’t help. If you don’t want to bring a knife to a gunfight, you don’t want to bring rage to a Marcus fight. It makes clear thinking difficult, and if you’re going up against Marcus, you’ve already got enough problems.

  Victor rears back and throws a roundhouse right at Marcus’s head. It appears to be so powerful that it could knock down a medium-size sequoia. Marcus steps inside it and delivers a straight left into Victor’s chest. The thud can likely be heard on Long Beach Island.

  Then Marcus follows it with a right to Victor’s temple, which sends the piece of garbage staggering backward.

  I can’t follow it all too well because I am backing down the hill about thirty feet to retrieve my gun, just in case. Based on my previous performance with that gun, we’d probably be better off with it lying on the road.

  But I do get to see Marcus completely dismantle Victor. He winds up sitting against the wall of the shed, his head backed against it, close to unconscious, as Marcus prepares to throw a punch that a rhinoceros could not survive.

  “Marcus, no!” I don’t yell because I care what happens to Victor; I’d be fine to see his brain splattered against the side of the shed. I yell because Pete and the state cops are coming up the hill, and Laurie and one of Pete’s cops are coming down from th
e main building.

  What Marcus is about to do, in the eyes of somebody who gives a shit more than I do, could be considered murder at worst and manslaughter at best. So I don’t want Marcus to do it because I don’t want him to get in legal trouble.

  And because I sure as hell don’t want another client.

  Marcus listens and doesn’t throw the punch. I put the gun on the ground because I won’t know any of the arriving state cops and I don’t want them making a mistake.

  Pete and the cops get there and take over. Laurie gives me a hug and I’m embarrassed because my hands are shaking. “You okay?” she asks.

  “Yes.” Then, “You should know that I didn’t cover myself with glory.” I don’t tell her what I mean; there will be time for that later.

  Marcus comes over to me and hands me what he took out of Victor’s left pocket, which is a small vial, sealed at the top.

  It is what all this was about.

  As search warrants go, this was a classic.

  Bennings was careless and obviously never thought anyone would invade his home like that. Plenty of incriminating evidence not only clearly established his guilt, but also the conspiracy.

  The most damaging documents were two sets of test results for the Pharmacon drug Loraxil. One included the results of the real-world testing, which showed a drug of limited effectiveness against the superbugs it was supposed to destroy. It also showed significant and unintended side effects, which were problematic at best and disqualifying at worst. Those documents were duplicates of the ones that were in Alex Vogel’s stolen filing cabinet.

  The other set of documents portrayed a much rosier picture, and in those Loraxil came off as a drug that was not only promising, but likely a breakthrough. Those were the documents submitted to the FDA, which would have had them leaning toward approval.

  But ultimate approval wasn’t enough for Bennings and his investors; they wanted it to happen immediately. And even that would not satisfy them; they wanted it approved in such a way as to send the stock soaring.

  Evidence showed that a husband and wife named Radford in New York State came down with a superbug infection, and that Loraxil cured it. That was impressive to the FDA, but not conclusive. More pressure was needed, as was a stunning event to pressure the FDA to act.

  So the deadly bacteria was going to be put into the water supply at the Jefferson Home for Seniors. Water came up the hill from the county, then pumps in the shed sent it the rest of the way up to the main house.

  Two tanks held the water. The situation was perfect for Victor; he could easily infect the water, and the unknowing people at the home would drink it. It would be contained to the people staying at the house, plus the family day visitors.

  Two things would then happen. First, the FDA would find that Pharmacon, having never gotten approval, did not have the supplies to treat the contained epidemic. People would die, possibly by the dozens.

  Second, the public would go nuts and panic in their fear that the superbug was going to end the world, with only Loraxil and Pharmacon able to stop it.

  The stock would react accordingly. Estimates were that the $10 stock would top out at $150, which would mean the initial $600 million valuation would become $9 billion.

  You can buy a lot of Joseph Russos with $9 billion.

  Usually our victory parties are held at Charlie’s.

  This time is different because we wanted Aggie, Cash, Sebastian, Simon Garfunkel, and Tara to attend. That seemed a little much for a sports bar typically patronized by humans.

  So in addition to those five dogs, as well as the twenty-five we have up for adoption, Laurie, Corey, Hike, Edna, Willie, Sondra, and Marcus are here. Pete and Vince have come as well, since I told them we’d be bringing food and beer in from Charlie’s. Beth Morris and her husband have stopped by, and I am happy to report that Ricky is here as well, having come home from camp yesterday. He wouldn’t miss an event with this many dogs for the world.

  The mood is far more subdued than at previous victory parties, for obvious reasons. But I think we all understand that we accomplished a great deal: we saved lives.

  Corey and I haven’t had a chance to talk for a while, so he has a bunch of questions he’d like answered. The first one is “Why did they have to kill Alex?”

  “Because he knew the real test results, the ones they did not submit to the FDA. He wasn’t supposed to have seen them, but once he did, he had to go. They also were in that filing cabinet. Alex didn’t realize that what he knew was significant because he had no way of knowing they were committing fraud by lying to the FDA.”

  “If he didn’t realize that what he knew was significant, why was it so important that they kill him?”

  “Because approval of this drug, in light of the public’s panic about the superbug, would become big news. He was the only one outside the conspiracy that knew the truth: that the drug was not an effective one. If he revealed that, it would destroy their chance to make a fortune.”

  “How did you figure it out?”

  “I wasn’t really sure I had until Victor showed up at that shed. But for one thing, the stock going up was the only possible way for them to make huge money. And Carla D’Antoni had told her sister that she was going to be giving her a stock tip.”

  “They told her about the stock? Why would they do that?”

  “You didn’t hear?” I ask. “The state police arrested Eric Buckner this morning. Bennings turned on him; he’s claiming that Buckner gave all the orders and he was just following them.”

  Corey nods. “The ultimate loyal employee.”

  “Right. But Bennings drew them a picture of the whole operation. Buckner had been dating Carla; she referred to him to her sister as Rick. But that’s who she meant. They think he gave her all the cash, but he was apparently okay with her being killed once she was no longer useful to them. And she must have overheard talk about the stock.”

  “How was she useful?”

  “By telling them where Alex kept his work papers, and when he would be on the boat. Also, another tip-off was when Big Tony was killed. The day before, I had asked Bennings if he had heard of Victor. They must have figured out that Big Tony gave us the name; there’s no one else it could have been.”

  Pete comes over to provide a new piece of information. “You know that couple that got cured? The Radfords? Turned out they didn’t have that superbug thing at all; the lab guy was in on it. He tested contaminated blood, but it wasn’t from the Radfords; it was from some poor guy in Omaha that they infected with it.”

  “So the Loraxil cured what they had?”

  “Any antibiotic would have cured what they had.”

  “What about Victor?” I ask.

  “He was Russian Mafia. Interpol has three warrants out on him, so when he gets out of the hospital, he’ll be going away for a long time.”

  Then Pete delivers what in friendship land is the ultimate compliment: “I gotta admit, you didn’t screw this up.”

  Laurie comes over and points out into the middle of the dog-play area, where Aggie is wrestling with Simon Garfunkel and Tara. That fantastic black Lab, Bruiser, has already gone to a great home, which is what this is all about.

  “You think Aggie remembers and misses Alex?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” Laurie says. “But she is happy, and safe, and loved, and that is the best we can do. And you know what? That’s pretty good.”

  ALSO by DAVID ROSENFELT

  ANDY CARPENTER NOVELS

  Dachshund Through the Snow

  Bark of Night

  Deck the Hounds

  Rescued

  Collared

  The Twelve Dogs of Christmas

  Outfoxed

  Who Let the Dog Out?

  Hounded

  Unleashed

  Leader of the Pack

  One Dog Night

  Dog Tags

  New Tricks

  Play Dead

  Dead Center

  Sudd
en Death

  Bury the Lead

  First Degree

  Open and Shut

  K TEAM NOVELS

  The K Team

  THRILLERS

  Black and Blue

  Fade to Black

  Blackout

  Without Warning

  Airtight

  Heart of a Killer

  On Borrowed Time

  Down to the Wire

  Don’t Tell a Soul

  NONFICTION

  Lessons from Tara: Life Advice from the World’s Most Brilliant Dog

  Dogtripping: 25 Rescues, 11 Volunteers, and 3 RVs on Our Canine Cross-Country Adventure

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  David Rosenfelt is the Edgar Award–nominated and Shamus Award–winning author of twenty Andy Carpenter novels, most recently Dachshund Through the Snow; nine stand-alone thrillers; two nonfiction titles; and The K Team, the first in a new series featuring some of the characters from the Andy Carpenter series. After years of living in California, he and his wife moved to Maine with twenty-five of the four thousand dogs they have rescued. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Begin Reading

  Also by David Rosenfelt

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.