Murder In New York
Chapter 4
08 August
Outside Criminal Courts Building
1400 HoursEven though she stayed with him as much as she could, she could feel the fear and anxiety rising with each passing second. She held his arm as they made the arrangements for his bail. She soothed him, telling him. "You have to go change. We brought you clean clothes to wear." He stared at the slacks and the knit shirt he now wore. They smelled clean and new. The underwear she had given him felt clean and soft too. Not at all like the stuff he had become used too. Ada had made sure he had clean clothes, of course. ‘I don’t want you to smell worse that you already do, you pathetic jerk.’ Ada had been mean to him, but she made sure he got his fix and could play the bar’s piano whenever he wanted. She made sure that Louie didn’t hit him again too.
He tried not to think about that. She - Sarah? Was this Sarah? Did he know her? He thought maybe he did. He would have to ask. But not now. It was hurting too much again. She was leading him out into the bright light and it hurt his eyes. Then he saw them. Cops. Their blue uniforms even seemed to crowd out the sun.
"Take my hand." Her kind, but stern voice captured his attention. "Take my hand and look at me. Don’t even look at them." Her eyes looked angry - but sad too. Bright. Almost like tears were forming in them. "The car will be here in just a second…" He thought she was going to say something. Call him something. He cringed as he thought of that other woman who had hovered over him calling him by the evil name. A low moan began to form in his throat, but before it could break free a long black car pulled up and the door opened. A flash of memory seized him. This had happened before. This was very bad. "Please, sweetheart. Please just get in. I’m getting in." She gently nudged him until he ducked inside.
She settled next to him and he met the eyes of the large bald man sitting across from him. This was different than the last time but still more memories seized him. Flashes of a sun-baked fountain with water splashing. The heady smell of flowers. Children running around yelling in a language he didn’t understand. Then, shots and screams. He squeezed his eyes shut and a name bubbled up from somewhere inside of him. "Teresa Marcello. I killed her. Who was she?" He asked just before he buried his head in his hands, rocking in pain.
AJ Chegwidden eyed the man sitting huddled next to his chief of staff and shook his head. "What a thing to remember."
"Well it makes sense, doesn’t it, sir?" Mac whispered. Once, at dinner with his mother, she had met Tim Fawkes and heard the whole story of the rescue in Italy.
AJ snorted. "Makes more sense that he would remember me breaking his nose." He eyed Webb but couldn’t tell if he had heard the remark or not. "Let’s leave it be, Co…M…Sarah."
Mac smiled sadly had her boss’s stumble. She caressed Clay’s back whispering soothing phrases but he seemed to cower even more. Finally, she scooted to the window and pulled him down until she could cradle him on her lap. He clutched at her but began to calm. "When we find…him…AJ, I’m puttin’ a whole world of hurt on…"
AJ held up his hands. "I know Sarah. I know."
The drive through Manhattan was slow. AJ was unsure of what to say or how to say it, and when his cell phone rang he was grateful for something to do. "Chegwidden…Yes Tiner." He listened and watched as Mac ran her fingers through the spy’s hair. He couldn’t bring himself to look into her fear-filled eyes anymore.
Clay lay there inhaling the scent of her. He remembered this smell with no pain at all. He tried hard to place it in context with his surroundings and what had happened to him. But he couldn’t. He didn’t try to close his eyes. That always led to the horrible images. Flashes of death. Screams of torture – some of the screams had been his but most had been women and children. "Need." He whimpered softly.
He heard her sigh. "I know, darling."
«Darling? She called me darling. She does know me. Maybe she’ll help me.» He clutched her knees tighter. "I need some stuff."
"We’re almost there." He heard the tightness in her voice.
"Can I play the piano?"
"Sure you can." Her whisper almost broke his heart. He wished he could make her happy. Maybe he would play something pretty for her.
"Here we are," the man calmly announced.
Clay pushed up in time to see the limo pass through an archway. Looking behind them he saw intricate wrought iron gates close. "Hey! This isn’t the club! You said we were going to the club." He gripped her shoulders, anger and fear shook him and she tried to pull away from him. He knew he was scaring her, but he felt what little control he had slipping away.
Strong hands pulled him away from her. "Easy. We had to stop here first." The gruff voice held a threat that cowed him. Clay shuddered but let the man sit him down firmly.
The door opened and a tall, pale man with very red hair peered in. "Ah. There we are. I’m Dr. Greenwood. Right this way." He reached in and gently tugged on Webb’s arm.
Sarah rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "Did he hurt you?" AJ demanded.
"No, sir. It’s not his fault." The tears were obvious in voice.
"I don’t care. I won’t have him hurting you. We don’t know what set him off when he…" His voice trailed off and Mac found she was having trouble maintaining her composure.
"You don’t think he really killed that man, do you, sir?" A single tear tracked down her cheek. AJ longed to hold her to him but knew she needed to be strong.
"I don’t know what was done to him, Mac. I don’t really care whether or not he killed the man. I do know he wasn’t responsible. Now let’s go see if we can figure out who is responsible, what they did to him and what we can do to get our annoying spy back."
Mac smiled through her tears. "Aye-aye, sir."
Stepping out into the courtyard she quickly joined Webb and Greenwood, who was patiently trying to get Webb inside the white brick building that rose seven stories above them. She took Webb’s arm and gently demanded. "We have to go inside. Please do what they tell you."
"But you said…."
"I said you could play a piano. He can play a piano, can’t he, Doctor?"
"Of course. Come. I’ll show you now."
He didn’t want to do it. The fear was nearly choking him, but Clay took her offered hand and followed her inside.
The piano was in a small room. The paneled walls and the chairs looked very comfortable. "We use this for patients with visitation rights." Greenwood explained. "Most of our patients come from very wealthy families or are," he cleared his throat, "subsidized by uhm…"
"Government funds." AJ supplied brusquely. Neither man continued. They watched Webb slowly circle the beautifully polished instrument before sitting on the wide bench. Mac just stood in the center of the room, one arm across her stomach supporting her other elbow. She was chewing on a finger while staring at her lover.
A sublime sense of peace stole over Clay as he sat and fingered the keys. This was a much nicer piano than the one at the bar. Tentatively he ran his fingers over each key. Perfectly tuned, he found. Smiling, he looked up at her. "What’s your favorite song? Maybe I know it."
Mac looked back at the doctor who nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath she smiled and walked over to him. "I really like Misty."
"Oh, that’s easy." He grinned and began.
AJ pulled Greenwood outside. The doctor grudgingly followed him, but kept his eye glued to the small window in the door.
"What’s the game plan?"
"We’ve already started. Right now." Greenwood said. "We are going to slowly introduce familiar things to him and watch for his anxiety to grow. We are going to take more and more blood and fluid tests to monitor the drug levels in his body. From the report I got from Bellevue he was given methadone this morning in an effort to calm him enough for the arraignment. Thank god it wasn’t Thorazine or something worse. I don’t want to keep that up. There are some other things I want to try."
"Try? You’re using him as a guinea pig?"
"No Admiral Chegwidden, he has already been used as a guinea pig. I’m going to try and bring him back. I have had some success, you know."
"I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t know. All I know is that Anspach said to bring him here."
Greenwood pulled his eyes away from the scene in the room and studied Chegwidden. "Well let me just tell you this, we’ll know when he is out of his fugue state immediately."
"Why?"
"Why, because Mr. Webb knows this place very well. He has brought several patients here for deprogramming."
"Okay. So what do you plan to do once he is tired of the piano?"
"That’s just it. Look at him. He won’t get tired of the piano. He will stay there as long as we let him. But we won’t, I’ll use the piano as an enticement for answering the questions we need answered and breaking through the programming. If Moriki is right, they didn’t have time to do a permanent turn, but it was probably very intense. That usually calls for extreme sensory and sleep deprivation. The sensory is easy. All it takes is a pool with water at the subject’s exact body temperature. The subject is suspended in a variety of ways, his eyes are covered, and the pool is enclosed. His breathing is usually controlled by a tube and his ears are plugged somehow." Greenwood shrugged. "Like I said there are variations on the theme. I can show you ours downstairs if you are interested."
AJ didn’t even bother to protest. He had been in black ops long enough to know there are things most Americans wouldn’t want to know about. "Wouldn’t Webb be conditioned against that type of thing?"
"Sure, if that’s all they did, he probably would just go to sleep. But even though there were only minute traces, we did find several amphetamines in his blood sample. That’s probably what made him jumpy."
"So Palmer – or whoever – didn’t addict him to heroin?"
"We have no way of knowing. The addiction is the least of our worries. Webb can fight that once he’s 100percent. Hell, knowing Webb, he’ll fight it if she," he nodded to where Sarah next to Webb at the piano, "asks him to – 100 percent or not. I read a little of the report that Agent Ryan got from Moriki. We are going to have to wean Webb from his dependency on this Ada Marshall."
"Well, doctor, if anyone can, I’ll put my money on the Marine in there."
"Well then, let’s start shall we." Without waiting for Chegwidden’s approval, Greenwood opened the door and entered the room.
"Well now, Mr. Webb."
Sarah and AJ held their breath. Clay’s fingers crashed down on the keyboard. "Don’t call me that."
"Why not. That’s your name."
"No!"
"Yes. And it’s a very good name."
"No! No! No!" Clay stood and when Mac touched him lightly on the arm, he threw it off and raged at her upturned face. "I’m not him! He’s evil!"
"No. Clay, you’re…"
The shriek that tore out of his throat had several orderlies crashing through the door. Webb put his hands to his ears and screamed again but made no move to harm Mac. She started to reach for him.
"No!" Greenwood snapped. AJ kept looking at Webb in horror and the doctor in anger, the emotions evident on his face. Greenwood ignored him completely. Stepping forward, waving off the huge orderly he pulled Webb’s hands away from his ears. "It’s okay. We’ll talk about it."
"No! No!"
"Stop it this instance, Mr. Webb!" Greenwood said firmly. "Stop it at once or you cannot play the piano ever again."
Mac could see the effort it took Clay to regain his composure. She didn’t need a stethoscope to register his rapid heartbeat. She prayed she would never see such a look of abject terror on anyone’s face again – well anyone but Palmer, but she doubted that anything could affect the rogue agent this way.
"N-never?" Webb’s voice trembled.
"Never, Mr. Webb." Greenwood insisted. "However, if you do well and do everything Colonel MacKenzie and Admiral Chegwidden tell you to then you may play some every morning, every afternoon and each night before retiring. Do you understand?"
Webb just stared at the Greenwood. "Who?"
Greenwood took Webb’s arm and led him to stand in front of AJ. "This is Admiral Chegwidden. You know him."
Webb violently shook his head. "No!"
Greenwood looked at AJ who took a deep breath. "Remember…Webb?" He paused when Webb put his hands over his face. Then at Greenwood’s nod AJ gently pulled at Webb’s arms until the spy was forced to look at him. "Italy? You and I saved Tim Fawkes life? You saved our friend’s life by shooting Teresa Marcello before she could detonate the bomb?"
Webb just shuddered.
"That’s okay, Mr. Webb. It will all come back." Greenwood soothed.
"D-don’t want to…"
Before he could finish, the doctor turned Webb around to face Mac. "Don’t you remember Colonel MacKenzie?"
Webb started to shake his head, but stopped when she cupped his cheek with her hand. Sarah MacKenzie considered herself to be an extremely private person. It hadn’t bothered her that they never went out. It pleased her that Harmon Rabb was comfortable with her relationship with Clay, but they never double-dated. Webb, though he took her to lunch whenever possible, had never made a habit out of kissing her in front of the other members of JAG. He always treated her with the utmost professional respect. "Sarah." She whispered. He groaned at her touch. "Remember? I love you."
"Colonel." Greenwood sighed. "I assume you call him by his name. He needs to get used to hearing it in a good context."
She never took her eyes off Clay. "I know doctor, but it hurts him. I can’t hurt him."
"Then he won’t get better." Greenwood said.
"Yes, you will, my love." She gently kissed him.
A shudder ran through his body. Brief flashes of smiling eyes and laughing lips dissolved in a muddle of swirling, harsh colors. Her soothing words began to garble and he fell to the floor as the pain ripped through him.
"Clay!" Mac cried as she tried to stop his fall. But she was helpless to stop the terror consuming him. Racking sobs shook him and she had to fight to keep her own tears at bay.
Greenwood sighed and motioned to the orderlies. "Take Mr. Webb – and Colonel MacKenzie to his room now."
"But can’t you give him…something?"
"What, colonel? More heroin? Methadone? You want him back, correct?"
"But…"
"Go with him. Say his name as often as you can. As tenderly as you can. Don’t expect much right away though."
AJ stayed with the doctor as Mac helped the orderlies move Webb into the corridor. "You’ve done this before?"
"Successfully? Yes. But just once." Greenwood wearily sank to one of the chair. "Usually someone like Webb – well did you ever see the movie or read The Manchurian Candidate?"
"You think Palmer indoctrinated Webb to assassinate someone?"
"Moriki and I agree that Palmer didn’t have time. It would help to know exactly what method, tortures and conditions Webb was subjected to. However, I suspect that the conditioning was interrupted. Perhaps Webb escaped. Perhaps Palmer is playing some kind of mind game. The report mentioned something about an insane hatred of another of your officers – Commander Rabb."
Chegwidden nodded. "Yes we took that into consideration. Not that it will stop Rabb, but one of Anspach’s boys took a precaution in that regard."
"Ah, yes. A homing device no doubt." Greenwood exhaled a long breath of air before standing. "Well, we will do what we can and what we must. It won’t be pretty."
"As long as it works, doctor!"
: :
08 August
Federal Building
1700 HoursCassie Ryan ran her hands over her face. There were never enough men anymore. The only concrete plan that had come from the nearly five-hour meeting was that they would have to begin a canvas of the area. They had little to go on.
She had five agents at her disposal. "But only until the end of next week, Agent Ryan, I’m sorry." SAC Kelly had been adamant.
Leaning back to stare out the window of the office Kelly had assigned for her use, she ignored the small paper-strewn conference table. She focused on a large bird hovering in an updraft and tried to order her thoughts. She was hoping that Commander Rabb would come up with a starting point. If not, they would have to start with ‘The Lucky Chance’ and work their way in an ever-widening circle until they find someone who remembered Webb or recognized the picture of the real Clark Palmer.
She considered the charges being brought against Webb. Southerlyn had asked for a charge of Murder Two. There was something going on there. Bobby Carter had been a ten-year veteran of New York’s finest. All ten years had been spent in Narcotics. He had been detailed immediately out of the academy and had an adequate arrest record, though nothing stellar. He was plain clothes but had never earned his gold shield.
The phone jarred her from her reverie and she reached behind her. "Ryan."
"Hey, Cassie, it's Harm."
"Well, tell me some good news."
"Nothing concrete at the bar I’m afraid, though something is weird about the cop."
"You get that impression too, huh?"
"Yeah. I’m going to run by his station house and nose around. I don’t expect much though. Cops tend to stick together."
"Like crazy glue, Harm. But, listen. I want you here first thing tomorrow. I want to start the canvas."
"Sure, Cassie. Who else?"
"Everyone I can get my hands on, which may only be you, Mac, AJ, me and five agents."
"Oh, I don’t know, Cassie. Sounds like a parade to me."
"Wait, Commander. New York kind of swallows you whole."
"Well, I’ll fill you in tomorrow on what little progress I’ve made."
Cassie looked at her watch and sighed. "Look, Harm can you do me a favor?"
"Name it."
"Can you call AJ and Mac and let them know about tomorrow morning. Here at the Federal Building 11th floor, 8:00 a.m."
A low chuckle tickled her ear. "You two still feuding?"
"Excuse me?" She snapped.
"Hey! Sorry, Cass. No problem. I’ll do the dirty work. Hell, if it will help, I’ll even partner with him tomorrow."
"Thanks, Rabb." She sighed and hung up the phone. Looking at the clock she groaned. Midtown traffic was impossible at any time during the day, at rush hour it made no sense to do anything but walk back to her hotel. She wished she could see him. Talk to him. One kiss in the elevator hadn’t changed anything. Her mother was still there in background, waiting for Cassie to come to her senses, return to a place that had never been home and settle into a life that still seemed alien to her.
Harmon Rabb hung up his cell phone and glared up at the entrance to the 15th District’s front door. Uniformed cops and plainclothes detectives wearing their shields around their necks or on their jacket pockets milled around laughing or talking. It was end of shift and a lousy time to do this. Sighing, he trudged up the steps, deciding on a course of action.
"Excuse me," he interrupted two sergeants behind the desk. "I’m here to see Captain Alavera or Lieutenant Crenshaw." Before either man could question him, a booming voice called out.
"I’m Crenshaw."
Rabb turned around and found himself staring into a mirror. Tall, thin, dark hair with blue eyes, Crenshaw appeared to be in his late thirties. It was obvious the man kept fit and he had a friendly ‘how can I help you’ smile that Rabb recognized as the look he used when he wanted to find out ‘who the hell are you and what are you doing on my turf.’ Rabb had perfected the look long ago and it had served him well. He quickly made up his mind on how to play this and put on his own ‘I’m on your side’ smile and extended his hand.
"Lieutenant. Harmon Rabb. I was sent up from DC to look into the death of Officer Carter."
"Why?" The smile was gone and Rabb would swear that not a little fear was hiding behind the narrowed blue eyes.
Rabb’s smile never left his lips. "Oh, a case one of ours was working on dovetailed with Officer Carter." It wasn’t a lie.
"Is that a fact? Well why don’t you come upstairs?" Crenshaw didn’t give him an opportunity to object. Turning, he led the way up the metal stairs to the second floor. "Brady?"
"Yo."
"Find the Captain for me. Ask him if he can join us in my office."
"You got it."
Rabb settled himself and quickly finalized his game plan.
"So, DC, huh?" Crenshaw settled himself behind his desk. "Uh…you want coffee or something?"
"Nah. I’m fine. I got plans for later."
"Sure. So what case dovetailed with Carter’s?"
"Oh, that case was finalized two weeks ago. Carter wasn’t even aware that our guy was in place. Agent…Galindez was - still is actually - undercover with a gang here in New York. You’ll understand why I can’t tell you much. Anyway, Galindez was impressed with the way Carter handled himself and when Carter ended up dead, Galindez wanted to check into it, but we can’t take the chance of him blowing his cover."
"Whose cover?" A tired voice from behind him demanded.
"Captain Alavera, Agent Rabb," Crenshaw mistakenly supplied. "Agent Rabb was just telling me that the Feds are interested in Bobby Carter’s death. Evidently he ran into one of Rabb’s buddies who is undercover with…what gang, Agent Rabb?"
Rabb just grinned and pretended he was Clayton Webb. "Oh, I can’t tell you that. I can’t afford to compromise Galindez’s cover."
"I take it this Galindez is undercover with one of our Latino gangs," Alavera growled.
"Now, Captain, not necessarily. And don’t bother looking for his records. Galindez isn’t his real name, nor his undercover identity either. Look, gentlemen. I just stopped by to see if Carter’s death was in anyway connected with something he was working on now or if it was a fluke. This Palmer who is supposed to have killed him..." He left it open for them to supply any details.
"There’s no suppose about it, Rabb," Crenshaw snapped. "The little bastard went berserk when he approached Bobby for some stuff."
"Why? They found two nickel bags in his pocket, I understand. The report read that Carter had a wallet full of cash."
"That don’t mean that Palmer had the cash to pay for the bags," Crenshaw quickly supplied.
Rabb just stared at him. "You know a lot of dope dealers that will let their ‘clients’ put two bags of horse in their pocket without seeing the green?" Rabb twisted around to see the expression on Alavera’s face. Nothing. Just fatigue and disgust that he was wasting his time. "Look guys, you got any information on this Palmer character? How long he had been buying from your undercover cop?"
"Look, Rabb. I don’t like your tone," Crenshaw insisted but Rabb never took his eyes off of Alavera.
The captain finally sighed. "We don’t know, Agent Rabb. Look, Bobby was a good cop. But he was in deep. You ever go deep?"
"Once," Rabb lied.
"So you know what it’s like. He had no choice but to sell to the users or no one would ever believe he was a dealer. We have gotten good solid information from Carter. In the past." The last was a slip that Rabb was sure Alavera would never have made except for his exhaustion. "Damn it. It’s not like he ever sold to school kids or anything."
"Captain." Crenshaw’s voice cracked like a whip. "No one is going to muddy Bobby’s good name. Right Rabb?"
Rabb turned and studied Crenshaw for a moment. Alarm bells were going off. Something wasn’t right, but then he wasn’t really surprised. "Guys, look. All I want to know is about this Palmer and his connection with Carter. Galindez is willing to check into it…"
"We’re on it, Rabb. When we need the FBI’s help, we will ask for it."
Rabb stood and held up his hands. "Hey. Fine. I suppose if Galindez finds out anything, you don’t want it. Good day, gentlemen." He edged passed Alavera and walked out into the bullpen. He had just made it to the top of the stairs when Crenshaw’s voice stopped him.
"Watch yourself out there, Rabb. You never know just how dangerous the streets of New York can be."
Considering the warning, Rabb paused on the landing to find himself staring into Serena Southerlyn’s very surprised blue eyes. "Hey. We really have to stop meeting like this." He smiled.
She couldn’t help smiling back but she quickly grew serious. "What are you doing here, Mr. Rabb?"
Harm figured she would spill the beans anyway so he laughed out loud. "Oh, conducting IQ tests on the command here at the 15th."
Southerlyn sighed. "And?"
"Oh, I have a godchild brighter than those two. Good luck. And if you find any exculpatory evidence, I expect a copy. Though…well, good luck."
Serena watched the defense attorney stroll out into the early evening. "Well, well, well." Turning she made her way up to the second floor. She immediately spotted the two men she had come to see. Strolling up to the Lieutenant’s office she introduced herself and then asked. "So what did you tell Mr. Palmer’s defense attorney." She just sighed at Alavera’s ‘son-of-a-bitch.’ But, she was surprised at the look of pure hatred that suffused Crenshaw’s face.
Chapter 5
08 August
Havenhurst Hospital
1900 HoursAJ lightly tapped on the door. "Come in." Mac was standing in the center of the room, surveying the luxurious space.
"Where is he?"
"In the bathroom," she said, turning. "It’s almost like a hotel instead of a hospital room, don’t you think?" She shrugged, "Well that and there’s no windows."
There was a hospital bed, complete with restraints and rails, but everything else smacked of a designer, an expensive designer.
"Well it should make him more comfortable."
"I don’t know, sir." Mac met AJ’s kind gaze with a hard one of her own. "You think this guy will do anything for him?"
AJ struggled with his answer. He didn’t like Greenwood much, but his gut told him that the doctor might just be Webb’s only hope. "I think so, Mac."
Before Mac could challenge him the door opened and Webb stepped out wearing pajamas. A rather large orderly followed him carrying the slacks and soft sweater he had worn from the courthouse. "We’re just fine now, aren’t we, Mr. Webb?"
Mac watched a shudder go through Clay’s body. He cringed away from the man but didn’t scream in agony. "What did you do to him?" she snapped.
The man didn’t even flinch. "Nothing Colonel. I just helped him. You have to expect this. Doctor told us both what to expect. Either Frank or I, oh, my name’s Artie, will be observing Mr. Webb day and night. Frank is going off duty now to get some sleep. I’ll be in the room next door." He nodded toward the large mirror against one wall. "It’s two-way. We’re monitoring everything that’s said in this room 24/7, ma’am. Doctor said to be sure and tell you that."
Mac blushed a bright red. «What the hell do you think I’m going to do Artie? Fuck him back to sanity.» "I’ll keep that in mind. But tell me this."
"Yes, ma’am."
"When we brought him up here not 20 minutes ago he was almost catatonic. Now he seems fine."
Artie shrugged. "Ma’am, he isn’t fine. He just snapped out of it on his own." He straightened to his full height and seemed to tower over AJ. "If you think I gave him something, I can show you the security tapes. Everything in this suite is monitored. It’s the director’s orders." It was his turn to blush.
"Oh. I see. I’ll remember to step down the hallway to use the bathroom. You really aren’t orderlies at all. You’re CIA."
Before Artie could confirm or deny the accusation a painful cry was ripped from Clay’s throat. Artie and AJ reached for Webb but Mac got to him first. Firmly she took his face in her hands, making him look at her. Taking a deep breath, knowing she had to do it, she said firmly, "Clay. Stop it. Please don’t. It will be okay."
"Bad. Bad. Hurt. Kill."
"No Clay. Who told you that the CIA was bad?"
Clay stiffened and tried to pull away but she held him. "Can’t remember. Hurts to think. Don’t want to think."
The door opened and Greenwood walked in. "That’s enough for today, Mr. Webb. Your dinner is being brought up now. For you and the Colonel." He looked steadily at Mac. "May I see you for a moment?" He held open the door. Clay tried to clutch at her, but she gently pulled away from him.
"Talk to AJ for a bit…Clay."
Webb clinched his eyes shut but opened them immediately at the gentle touch on his arm. He found himself looking into dark concerned eyes. Not at all like Sarah’s but familiar. He tried not to remember, but something was wrong. The concern seemed misplaced and yet not. It was all very confusing. "You hit me?" he whispered, as he remembered a dark, rain-slick airfield. He remembered the pain, but it wasn’t like the pain he had experienced recently. "Why did you hit me?"
AJ sighed. He was unsure of how far to go. This was the doctor’s place but he knew he couldn’t just leave. "I’m sorry I hit you, Webb. I was angry at the time. You had gotten them into trouble and I was worried."
"I got someone in trouble? Who?
"Doesn’t matter. All that matters now is that I’m sorry I hit you."
"Will she come back?"
"Sarah?" AJ snorted softly. "All the orderlies in the world couldn’t keep her out of this room, Webb."
"That’s not really my name, you know." Webb supplied almost conversationally. "Ada said it’s Palmer. And my wallet says it’s Palmer. That Webb person is a very bad man."
"No, Clay." AJ glared now, the anger he felt for Palmer blossoming into hatred. "No. Webb is a very good man. He’s a man who is needed by his country and by that woman out there. So, mister, you keep that in mind."
The door opened again and Webb visibly relaxed when she came back inside. Following her was a nurse pushing a large cart. "Clay. The nurse needs to draw some blood."
"No!" He sounded like a petulant child.
"Yes, Clay." Mac took his hand. "Then we can eat. They made your favorite."
"Hamburgers and fries and a scotch," he said with finality. "That’s what I always ate at the bar."
"No. Lobster and baked potato and a salad with blue cheese dressing. No scotch right now though, okay?"
He just sighed and cringed when the nurse reached for his arm. "Please don’t." His whimper caused a flash of pain to tighten Mac’s face.
"Don’t let go of my hand," she whispered.
"Mac, I’m going to go check in," AJ announced. He found he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take the pain on her face. And he found the torture inflicted on the man who had always been a pain-in-the-ass was almost as unbearable. «When the hell did Webb become part of my family?» he thought as he stomped down the corridor.
He reached the street and took several deep breaths. "I’m going to kill Palmer with my bare hands," he muttered before noticing that a woman walking her dog looked at him with some concern. Shaking his head to clear it, he motioned for the limousine to pull forward. It had been decided that Mac would stay in the hospital in case she was needed, but Anspach had provided an apartment for them mid-town. Cassie, to preserve her cover, was staying at the Holiday Inn two blocks away.
Settling in, he leaned his head against the rich leather seat back. But not for long; just as the car pulled out into traffic, his cell phone jarred him out of any real contemplation. "Chegwidden."
"Sir, it’s Rabb."
"What did you find out?"
"Not much sir, I’ve got some impressions though that I want to go over with you. Also, I need to go back down to the Lucky Chance tonight."
"Not alone, Rabb."
"No, sir." AJ could hear the smile in his top gun’s voice. "So, sir, what are you doing for dinner tonight."
AJ exhaled a deep breath, "Let me guess, the Lucky Chance?"
"God NO. Uhm…sorry…sir, uhm…actually I was thinking maybe Thai or Chinese, then we could go up there. You could get something with meat in it and I…"
"Fine, Rabb. Meet me back at the apartment, I have to check in with SecNav and the office."
"Aye-aye, sir."
"Rabb, knock it off. Where are you?"
"I’m back at the apartment. Man, I didn’t think anyplace could have worse traffic than DC, it took me an hour to get back from the 15th Precinct."
"Well, the limo is just pulling up to the apartment now. Thank God it and the hospital are centrally located."
"Yes, sir. I’ll be in the shower when you get up here, sir."
: :
08 August
Room 1510
Holiday Inn - MidtownCassie listened as AJ filled her in on what he and Rabb were planning to do. She longed to go up there with them. "I know you can take care of yourself, AJ. But you two guys are going to be targets. No, don’t take the limo. Give me a minute. I’ll have someone meet you in something a little less showy. Let me know when you’re back at the apartment. I have to go to a dinner meeting with several Homeland Security people tonight to discuss the extra precautions we will need to take here in New York next month. I miss you, AJ." She hung up the phone and whispered, "I love you." Then all business, she picked up the phone and placed another phone call.
As she walked down the noisy crowded streets she felt the tug of the city. She loved New York. It really never did sleep. It was noisy and alive and raw for all its sophistication. New York, particularly at night, seemed to throb. She kept her eyes open to her surroundings but let the glaring lights almost calm her as she considered the plight of Clayton Webb and what his kidnapping might mean to national security. Her promotion to FBI security liaison to Homeland Security was a nice little feather in her cap. But, what it meant really was longer hours and more responsibility. While Mac and Rabb and AJ were all concerned with Webb’s well-being, her job was supposed to be geared to finding out just how badly this attack had hurt CIA and US security secrets. «Why the hell didn’t they figure out he was missing and not just on some high funk?» She fumed as she made her way down one long city block.
"Hey sweet thang. Why you look so mean?" A low seductive voice whispered in her ear.
She kept her cool and turned her head to glare at her assailant. Perhaps 16, the kid wore a baseball cap and a jacket with some kind of signet on it. Fifteen years ago she had known the name of every gang emblem from Canal Street into the Bronx. Now she just studied the punk, letting him know that the little girl in dress-up clothes really was old enough to be his momma. She didn’t have to say a word. Understanding finally dawned and the kid back off. "Sorry lady. Don’t mean no disrespect."
She sighed and continued on her way. «43 years old and still getting hit on by boys.» She smiled as she remembered the first time AJ had seen her. She had seen it in his eyes then. The look that said, ‘no way is she old enough to be doing this.’ She reached the restaurant and took a deep breath. This past year had made her feel every one of her 43 years with interest.
: :
Apartment In Midtown
2200 HoursThey traded their suits for jeans and casual shirts. Their jackets hid their side arms. Cassie had somehow snagged them carry permits. No way did Chegwidden want Rabb or MacKenzie, or himself for that matter, going up against Palmer with just law books and briefs.
He spotted the car and stepped out on the street. "Come on. Maybe the driver will know of a good Chinese Restaurant."
"Agent Mary Perkins, gentlemen. At your service. Hop in." Even sitting down, AJ could tell she was tall and she looked like she could handle herself. She didn’t look hard; in fact, she was rather pretty, with her almost jet black hair pulled back in a braid, her bright blue eyes were twinkling with cocky mirth. It took him a moment to realize who she reminded him of. He looked over at Rabb and sighed.
"Know anywhere to get good Chinese between here and Harlem?" Rabb asked eagerly as he hopped in front next to the rather surprised agent. AJ sighed again and climbed in the back.
Mary grinned and pulled away from the curb. The restaurant she pulled up to looked like a hole in the wall. The fact that they found a parking place attested to the neighborhood. Perkins called a kid over, gave him a bill and said. "Stay here. Tell anybody that comes near that Baldie Longo got out of jail and is having dinner. Got it."
The kid looked AJ up and down gulped and nodded. He pocketed the ten bucks and lounged against the car.
AJ just shook his head and walked in to the steamy restaurant. The smells were wonderful. "So you think I look like the current ‘don in absentia,’ Agent Perkins?"
"Got me, sir. Longo wasn’t don for very long and I never met the man. But I always liked the nickname." Perkins rattled off something in Chinese and the owner came out from in back. Several long tables covered in vinyl table clothes were the only sit down dining. Whatever profit this place made was obviously from carry out. Several young men followed the old man, all weighed down with heavy bags. "The beef conge is to die for here."
"Uhm…I’m vegetarian." Rabb said.
"Ewwww." She looked at AJ.
"Always eat the specialty of the house is my motto. The conge is fine."
The agent studied Rabb for a moment, her eyebrow arched. Rabb shrugged. "Hey, as long as it’s vegetarian." She gave their order, the owner bowed and hurried back to the kitchen.
Sitting at one of the surprisingly clean tables AJ studied the woman before him. "So, Agent…"
"Please AJ, call me Mary. It will be better when we get uptown."
"Very well, Mary. Where did you learn to speak Chinese?"
"I dated a guy in college."
Rabb looked dazed. "You dated a guy and picked up Chinese?"
Mary laughed. "Sweetheart, I pick up languages the way your wife picks up your socks."
"I’m not married."
"Oh, yeah?" She smiled. "I speak 10 languages." She sighed. "Which means I’m always invited to go for lunch whenever the guys want ethnic."
"Seems like a waste of your talent, these days."
Perkins shrugged. "Doing my time, admiral. I figure somebody will eventually figure out that I just might be able to help in this damn mess."
"Why? You speak Arabic?" AJ asked.
"Three dialects."
"Seems like a stupid place to bury you," Rabb said.
"Well, if I can figure out how to keep my big fat mouth shut at the appropriate times, maybe SAC Kelly might sign my request for transfer."
Rabb looked like he was going to say something else, but the owner returned with their orders. They ate in silence.
Returning to the car, Perkins inspected the vehicle and started to reach for her wallet. AJ beat her to it and gave the kid a twenty and grinned. The boy quickly backed away and then ran to join his buddies who had been milling around the corner staring at the car and the three people inside the restaurant.
"You really don’t think they thought we were the mob do you?" Rabb asked.
"Sure. Let’s just hope they think that down at the bar."
"I’m sure I’ll be remembered, sir."
"Well, I’ll go inside and you and Perkins can do a quick canvas of the neighborhood."
"Beggin’ your pardon, AJ," Perkins snapped. "Excuse my language, but no fuckin’ way. I really want to get to DC and having the JAG of the Navy roughed up in a Harlem dive on my watch ain’t gonna look too good."
"Oh, shit," Rabb sighed. «Here we go.»
AJ looked from Rabb to Perkins, ran his tongue over his teeth and then nodded. "Fine, Rabb can wait in the car."
"Hey!" Rabb yelped. At the amused look on his CO’s face he sighed. "Fine. We’ll figure it out."
There was a different bartender. The piano was quiet and there was no sight of Ada. The bar became really quiet when the two of them walked in. AJ had been surprised when Perkins didn’t even bother to pay a kid to watch the car. "Hell, AJ, you think these guys up here don’t know a fed mobile. The word is going to get back to the DA for sure."
"Maybe you better move down the street then, Perkins." He thought she was going to argue with him, but something changed her mind and she just nodded. "I’ll be down three blocks. I’ll be able to just make out the front of the bar." She handed him a radio. "I’m on channel 6. Call me if you do anything particularly stupid, like go out the back…sir."
"Ah. Now I see why you can’t get transferred." Rabb laughed.
AJ led the way up to the bar and sat down. The bartender took a long time to approach them. When he did he tried for a little bravado. "Lookee here. Ain’t got nuthin for the cops tonight."
AJ sighed. "Where’s Miss Marshal?"
"Who."
"Son. I’ve got twenty bucks for the person who shows me where Miss Marshall is. I want to be taken to her. I don’t want to be sent on any snipe hunt."
"Huh."
"Ada ain’t here."
AJ turned and eyed the older man standing behind him. Tall and muscular, the man had an air of someone nobody messed with; not because they were afraid of him per se but simply because he looked like he finished any fight that anyone cared to start. "Who are you?"
"Name's William Tyler. I been comin’ in here near 30 years. Since I got home."
"Nam?"
"Sure. You?"
"Yes."
"Figured." Tyler waited.
"Name's AJ Chegwidden. This is Harmon Rabb."
"You that white guy’s lawyer. Heard about you comin in and talking to James and Louie. Louie ain’t too bright, and James is sometimes too bright for his own good."
"Well, I still want to talk to Miss Marshall. You want the twenty?" AJ interrupted.
"Sure. She lives three doors down but she ain’t there. Joey’s been in lookin for her."
"Joey’s the boyfriend."
"Sometimes."
"You got any idea where Miss Marshall might be?"
Tyler studied AJ. Even in the dim light the two navy lawyers could see he was coming to a decision. "Buy me a drink. Hey Maurice, bring us a bottle of Jack Black and three glasses." He turned and went to an empty banquette and slid in. Rabb sat on one side and Chegwidden after a moment, sat on the other. The bartender bought a bottle and the glasses and glared not at either white man but at Tyler. "Forty."
AJ reached for his wallet. After the man stomped back to the bar, Rabb poured three fingers into each glass. Tyler sipped the dark liquid but didn’t say anything. Instead he glared around at the other patrons who finally tore their eyes away from the spectacle and returned to their own conversations and drinks.
"This ain’t like it used to be in the 30s. Or so says my momma." Tyler grinned, still sipping his drink. "Don’t see too many white guys up here that ain’t cops. When the piano play came in I was sittin’ over there. Thought for sure he was goin’ cause trouble. At first I figured he was some plant sent in by Carter. Carter wasn’t the brightest of men."
"Why would Carter send in someone like…Palmer?" Rabb asked.
"'Cause Carter weren’t getting’ nowhere."
AJ poured another glass for himself and Tyler. Rabb had hardly touched his. "What was Carter up to?"
Someone put some money in the jukebox and AJ was happy to hear the soothing tones of Miles Davis fill the room. Tyler must have seen a look on his face because he laughed. "Don’t have no hip-hop, rap, gansta bullshit in here. Most of the folks like to pretend like we was back in the 30s. Lucius sure does. His daddy owned this place and his granddaddy too; only Lucius ain’t either one of them genl’mens. Old Jimmy, he was the granddaddy, had Ella and the Duke in here back then." He spared Rabb a quick glance, "And that ain’t no John Wayne neither, boy."
"I know who Duke Ellington is, Mr. Tyler."
"Do you now?"
"What. Was. Carter. Up. To?" AJ was tired. He wanted to go back to the apartment. He wanted to find Cassie. He didn’t want to talk about dead jazz greats.
"Why Mr. Carter was into getting’ his gold shield. That was what Mr. Carter was up to. Only Bobby Carter was one dumb sombitch. Mean bastard too. Wanted out of narco so bad he could taste it."
"So everybody here knew Bobby Carter was an undercover narco cop. Why was he still alive?" AJ asked more conversationally.
"'Cause Bobby never busted anybody up here. The local dealers used him to take care of the competition. Hell, he was their pet pig." Tyler threw back his second drink and reached for the bottle. AJ’s hand shot out and grabbed his.
"So this guy was stupid enough to think he could play both sides of the street?" AJ asked with incredulity.
"Nah. He knew he would never get out of narco doin’ a big narco bust. He was after somethin’ else. Somethin’ bigger."
"What!"
"Now that’s the question. He was payin’ off everybody in free dope and passes on solid arrests lookin’ for somethin. The last couple of weeks he had been fuckin’ nuts."
"Cops know about it?" Rabb asked thinking back on the look on Crenshaw’s face.
"Sheeet son, far as I knowed the cops is all in on it, you know what I mean?"
AJ sighed and released his hold on the bottle. Tyler carefully poured three more drinks. "So where do you think we might look for Miss Marshall?"
Tyler considered his drink. "Well, I know when Joey and her are feudin’, which is a lot here anymore, Joey starts drinkin' down at the Pit."
"Which is located where?" Rabb asked.
"Two blocks over on Deal Street."
Chegwidden again pulled his wallet from his pocket. Taking out a card he handed it to Tyler. "You see Ada Marshall, you call me. Keep the bottle. Come on Rabb."
As they walked out up to the car, AJ pondered the problem. "We’re going to have to go and see if we can find this Joey. Damn we need his last name."
"Joey Mitchell. It was in the paperwork."
Mitchell wasn’t at the so aptly named bar on Deal Street, at least not that anyone would admit to. AJ had carefully watched their faces and there wasn’t even a furtive glance to give the man away if he was there. Rabb finally yawned. "Sir, it’s 2330 hours. We are supposed to meet Agent Ryan at 0800 tomorrow to begin a canvas."
"Fine."
Perkins let them off at the apartment, but AJ stood on the street. "You go ahead up, Harm. I want to take a walk before I turn in. I want to go over this stuff in my head."
"Aye-aye, sir." Rabb started to point out that the Holiday Inn where Cassie Ryan was staying was in the opposite direction but stopped himself in time.
Home :: cross-overs Index :: e-mail